By JOSHUA GOODMAN and GISELA SALOMON

MIAMI (AP) — As hundreds of migrants crowded into the Krome Detention Center in Miami on the edge of the Florida Everglades, a palpable fear of an uprising set in among its staff.

As President Donald J. Trump sought to make good on his campaign pledge of mass arrests and removals of migrants, Krome, the United States’ oldest immigration detention facility and one with a long history of abuse, saw its prisoner population recently swell to nearly three times its capacity of 600.

“There are 1700 people here at Krome!!!!,” one U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement employee texted a co-worker last month, adding that even though it felt unsafe to walk around the facility nobody was willing to speak out.

That tension — fearing reprisal for trying to ensure more humane conditions — comes amid a battle in federal courts and the halls of Congress over whether the president’s immigration crackdown has gone too far, too fast at the expense of fundamental rights.

At Krome, reports have poured in about a lack of water and food, unsanitary confinement and medical neglect. With the surge of complaints, the Trump administration shut down three Department of Homeland Security oversight offices charged with investigating such claims.

A copy of the text exchange and several other documents were shared with The Associated Press by a federal employee on the condition of anonymity for fear of retaliation. Other documents include detainee complaints as well as an account of the arrival of 40 women at Krome, an all-male facility, in possible violation of a federal law to reduce the risk of prison rape.

There is a critical shortage of beds in detention facilities

Krome is hardly alone in a core challenge faced by other facilities: a lack of bed space. Nationwide, detentions have surged to nearly 48,000 as of March 23, a 21% increase from the already elevated levels at the end of the Biden administration. In recent weeks, they have mostly flatlined as efforts to deport many of those same migrants have been blocked by several lawsuits.

To address the shortage, ICE this month published a request for bids to operate detention centers for up to $45 billion as it seeks to expand to 100,000 beds from its current budget for about 41,000. As part of the build-out, the federal government for the first time is looking to hold migrants on U.S. Army bases — testing the limits of a more than century-old ban on military involvement in civilian law enforcement.

By some measures, Trumps’ controversial approach is working. Barely 11,000 migrants were encountered at the U.S.-Mexican border in March, their lowest level in at least a decade and down from 96,035 in December 2024, according to U.S. Customs and Border Protection.

Other facilities have caps on the number of detainees

Krome is just one of five facilities that ICE directly runs — the others are in Buffalo, New York, Arizona and two in Texas — and can house detainees for more than 16 hours. After Trump took office, ICE had orders to round up migrants with few options on where to send them. The vast majority of bed space is leased from local prisons, jails or privately run facilities that have strict limits on how many detainees they are contractually obligated to accept.

As its concrete cellblocks began filling up, federal workers started documenting the worsening conditions in weekly reports for the Department of Homeland Security’s leadership. They worked their way up the chain through DHS’ Office of Immigration & Detention Ombudsman, an independent watchdog established by Congress during the first Trump administration to blunt the fallout from a string of scandals about treatment at detention facilities.

The office went through four ombudsmen in two months as Trump officials surged arrests with no apparent plan on where to send them. The situation worsened in mid-March, when the office’s 100 staffers — including a case manager at Krome — were placed on administrative leave in what officials described as an effort to remove roadblocks to enforcement.

“Rather than supporting law enforcement efforts, they often function as internal adversaries that slow down operations,” DHS spokeswoman Tricia McLaughlin said.

Around the same time, Krome’s chaos spilled into public view. Images secretly shot on a cellphone and posted on TikTok showed a group of men sleeping on concrete floors and under tables with little more than their shoes as pillows.

“We are practically kidnapped,” Osiris Vázquez, his eyes bloodshot due to a lack of sleep, said in the grainy video, which garnered 4.4 million views. “We don’t want likes. We want help. Please!”

Vázquez, who was detained while driving home from a construction job near Miami, said he shared for two weeks a small room with some 80 men. Showers and phone calls weren’t allowed, the fetid-smelling bathrooms were left unattended and food was restricted to peanut butter sandwiches.

“There was no clock, no window, no natural light,” recalled Vázquez in an interview. “You lost all notion of time, whether it’s day or night.”

Eventually, Vázquez decided to self-deport. But his nightmare didn’t end. Once back in his hometown of Morelia, Mexico, where he hadn’t set foot in almost a decade, he had to be hospitalized twice for a respiratory infection he says he caught at Krome.

“Everyone I know got sick. We were so close together,” said Vázquez.

It could’ve been worse. Since Trump returned to the White House, three detainees have died while in ICE custody — two of them at Krome.

The latest, Maksym Chernyak, died after complaining to his wife about overcrowding and freezing conditions. The 44-year-old Ukrainian entered the U.S. legally with his wife in August under a humanitarian program for people fleeing the country’s war with Russia.

He was sent to Krome after an arrest in south Florida for domestic violence and immediately got sick with a chest cold. After being monitored for a week with high blood pressure, on Feb. 18, at 2:33 a.m., he was taken to a hospital for seizure-like vomiting and shaking. An ICE report said he appeared intoxicated and unresponsive at times. Two days later, he died.

Other than acetaminophen, he received no medication to treat the blood pressure, according to a two-page ICE report about Chernyak’s death. An autopsy listed the cause of death as complications from a stroke aggravated by obesity.

Chernyak’s widow said that before her husband’s detention he was a “strong, healthy man.” Without a translator, she said, her husband struggled to communicate with guards about his deteriorating health.

“They saw his condition, but they ignored him,” said Oksana Tarasiuk in an interview. “If he wasn’t put in Krome, I’m sure that he would still be alive.”

ICE, in a statement, didn’t comment on specific allegations of mistreatment but said it adjusts its operations as needed to uphold its duty to treat individuals with dignity and respect.

“These allegations are not in keeping with ICE policies, practices and standards of care,” the agency said. “ICE takes its commitment to promoting safe, secure, humane environments for those in our custody very seriously.”

Attorneys said that in recent days, Krome has transferred out a number of detainees and conditions have improved. But that could just be shifting problems elsewhere in the migration detention system, immigration attorneys and advocates say.

Some 20 miles east of Krome, at the Federal Detention Center in downtown Miami, correctional officers last week had to deploy flash bang grenades, pepper spray paint balls and stun rounds to quell an uprising by detainees, two people familiar with the matter told the AP.

The incident occurred as a group of some 40 detainees waited almost eight hours to be admitted into the facility as jail officers miscounted the number of individuals handed over by ICE, according to the people, who spoke on the condition of anonymity because they are not authorized to speak publicly. As confusion reigned, the arriving detainees, some from Jamaica, ripped a fire sprinkler from a ceiling, flooding a holding cell, and took correctional officers’ batons, according to the people.

The federal Bureau of Prisons, which runs the facility, would not confirm details of the incident but said that at no time was the public at risk.

“That has put a massive strain over our staff,” said Kenny X. Castillo, the president of the union representing workers at FDC Miami. “We are doing the job of two agencies in one building.”

Detentions drive profits

Trump’s administration has yet to reveal his plans for mass deportations even as he seeks to eliminate legal status for 1 million migrants previously granted humanitarian parole or some other form of temporary protection. The latest ICE data suggests so-called removal of migrants is actually below levels at the end of the Biden administration.

That means detentions are likely to rise and, with facilities at capacity, the need to house all the detainees will get more urgent. Spending on new facilities is a boon for federal contractors, whose stock prices have surged since Trump’s election. But finding workers willing to carry out Trump’s policy remains a major challenge.

Only a handful of applicants showed up at a recent hiring fair in Miami organized by Akima Global Services, a $2 billion federal contractor that staffs several immigrant detention centers, including Krome.

“Many of these facilities have been chronically understaffed for years,” said Michelle Brané, an immigration attorney and the last ombudsman during the Biden administration. “These are not easy jobs and they aren’t pleasant places to work.”

On Thursday, advocates led by the Robert F. Kennedy Human Rights organization filed a lawsuit against DHS seeking to challenge the Trump administration’s decision to shutter the oversight offices.

Krome has a history of substandard conditions

Allegations of substandard conditions are nothing new at Krome.

The facility was set up as essentially the nation’s first migrant detention center in the 1970s to process the large number of boat refugees fleeing Haiti. Before that, almost no migrants were detained for more than a few days.

In the early 2000s, the facility was wracked by harrowing accounts of guards sexually assaulting or coercing sexual favors from female prisoners. Several guards were criminally charged.

But more recently, the facility appeared to have turned a corner, with ICE even inviting the media to tour a first-of-its-kind mental health facility.

Then it changed abruptly.

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The facility housed 740 men and one woman on March 31, according to the latest ICE data, which reflects only the midnight count on the last day of the month. That’s up 31% from just before Trump took office. ICE refused to disclose Krome’s current capacity because of security concerns.

So far this year, the ombudsman’s office has received more than 2,000 inmate complaints, according to the federal employee.

Brané said she worries that detainee deaths, which started to rise during the Biden administration as arrests surged, could spike without anyone on the ground to investigate complaints of mistreatment.

“To my knowledge, everything was just frozen and people were told to go home,” said Brané. “If you’re ramping up, you’re taking away the oversight and you’re increasing the number of people you’re detaining, it’s a recipe for disaster.”

Following Chernyak’s death, a grassroots coalition of immigration activists and far-left groups organized a demonstration on the highway leading to Krome’s entrance calling for the closure of the center. A few hundred protesters showed up, some holding pictures of migrants “kidnapped” by ICE and signs that read “American Gulag, American Shame” and “Immigrants Make America Great.”

This month, Miami Mayor Daniella Levine Cava, a Democrat, wrote Homeland Secretary Kristi Noem requesting a tour of the facility. The DHS media office didn’t reply to an email asking whether Noem had granted her request. In addition, 49 Democrats in Congress have also written Noem demanding to know how the agency intends to ease overcrowding at ICE facilities.

Huber Argueta-Perez said he saw many of those same conditions during his detention at Krome last month. The 35-year-old Guatemalan, who has lived in the U.S. for almost two decades, was detained March 10 after dropping off his two American daughters at school in Miami. He spent nine days sleeping on the concrete floor of a small, overcrowded room. He said he got feverishly sick from the cold but was repeatedly denied a sweater and medicines.

“We didn’t fit,” Argueta-Perez, who was deported March 19, said in an interview from Guatemala. “But the more we complained, the worse was the punishment.”

AP writers Michael Sisak in New York and Rebecca Santana in Washington contributed to this report.

By MICHAEL R. SISAK

NEW YORK (AP) — Luigi Mangione pleaded not guilty Friday to a federal murder charge in the killing of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson as prosecutors formally declared their intent to seek the death penalty against him.

Mangione, 26, stood with his lawyers as he entered the plea, leaning forward toward a microphone as U.S. District Judge Margaret Garnett asked him if understood the indictment and the charges against him.

Mangione said, “yes.” Asked how he wished to plead, Mangione said simply, “not guilty” and sat down.

Mangione’s arraignment for the killing last December attracted several dozen people to the federal courthouse in Manhattan, including former Army intelligence analyst Chelsea Manning, who served about seven years in prison for stealing classified diplomatic cables.

Mangione, who has been held in a federal jail in Brooklyn since his arrest, arrived to court in a mustard-colored jail suit. He chatted with one of his lawyers, death penalty counsel Avi Moskowitz, as they wanted for the arraignment to begin.

Late Thursday night, federal prosecutors filed a required notice of their intent to seek the death penalty.

That came weeks after U.S. Attorney General Pam Bondi announced that she would be directing federal prosecutors to seek the death penalty for what she called “an act of political violence” and a “premeditated, cold-blooded assassination that shocked America.”

It was the first time the Justice Department said it was pursuing capital punishment since President Donald Trump returned to office Jan. 20 with a vow to resume federal executions after they were halted under the previous administration.

Mangione’s lawyers have argued that Bondi’s announcement was a “political stunt” that corrupted the grand jury process and deprived him of his constitutional right to due process. They had sought to block prosecutors from seeking the death penalty.

Mangione’s federal indictment includes a charge of murder through use of a firearm, which carries the possibility of the death penalty. The indictment, which mirrors a criminal complaint brought after Mangione’s arrest also charges him with stalking and a gun offense.

Mangione, an Ivy League graduate from a prominent Maryland real estate family, faces separate federal and state murder charges after authorities say he gunned down Thompson, 50, outside a Manhattan hotel on Dec. 4 as the executive arrived for UnitedHealthcare’s annual investor conference.

The state murder charges carry a maximum punishment of life in prison.

Surveillance video showed a masked gunman shooting Thompson from behind. Police say the words “delay,” “deny” and “depose” were scrawled on the ammunition, mimicking a phrase commonly used to describe how insurers avoid paying claims.

The killing and ensuing five-day search leading to Mangione’s arrest rattled the business community, with some health insurers deleting photos of executives from their websites and switching to online shareholder meetings. At the same time, some health insurance critics have rallied around Mangione as a stand-in for frustrations over coverage denials and hefty medical bills.

Prosecutors have said the two cases will proceed on parallel tracks, with the state case expected to go to trial first, but Mangione lawyer Karen Friedman Agnifilo said his defense team would seek to have the federal case take precedent because it involves the death penalty.

Mangione was arrested Dec. 9 in Altoona, Pennsylvania, about 230 miles (about 370 kilometers) west of New York City and whisked to Manhattan by plane and helicopter.

Police said Mangione had a 9mm handgun that matched the one used in the shooting and other items including a notebook in which they say he expressed hostility toward the health insurance industry and wealthy executives.

Among the entries, prosecutors said, was one from August 2024 that said “the target is insurance” because “it checks every box” and one from October that describes an intent to “wack” an insurance company CEO. UnitedHealthcare, the largest U.S. health insurer, has said Mangione was never a client.

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By SUSAN MONTOYA BRYAN

ALBUQUERQUE, N.M. (AP) — Thousands of people are gathering in New Mexico for a celebration showcasing Native American and Indigenous dancers, musicians and artisans from around the world.

Billed by organizers as the largest powwow in North America, the annual Gathering of Nations festival kicks off Friday with a colorful procession of dancers spiraling into the center of an arena at the New Mexico state fairgrounds. Participants wear elaborate regalia adorned with jingling bells and dance to the tempo of rhythmic drumming.

The event also features the crowning of Miss Indian World, as well as horse parades in which riders are judged on the craftsmanship of their intricately beaded adornments or feathered headdresses and how well they work with their horses.

Powwow roots

Powwows are a relatively modern phenomenon that emerged in the 1800s as the U.S. government seized land from tribes throughout the Northern and Southern Plains. Forced migrations and upheaval during this period resulted in intertribal solidarity among Plains people and those from the southern prairies of Canada.

Alliances were formed, giving way to the exchange of songs and dances during gatherings between different tribes. In the decades that followed, powwows were advertised to pioneers heading westward as “authentic” Native American dance shows. For some, it was an exploitation of their cultures.

The word powwow was derived from pau wau, an Algonquian Narrtick word for “medicine man,” according to the Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage. Scholars say English settlers misused the word to refer to the meetings of medicine men and later to any kind of Native American gathering.

Today, some of the large powwows like the Gathering of Nations have become more commercialized events that use dancing and drumming competitions with big prize money to provide a glimpse into Indigenous cultures.

Reconnecting with culture

At ceremonial dances, participants wear traditional regalia specific to their tribe, whereas powwow attire often is more contemporary and flashy with sequins and sparkles. It’s about dressing to impress the judges, said Warren Queton, a Kiowa Tribe legislator and adjunct instructor at the University of Oklahoma who has participated in community dancing and cultural events since he was a boy.

Queton, who served as the head gourd dancer at the university’s recent spring powwow, said ceremonial dances are deeply rooted in community, identity and cultural values.

It’s a struggle to keep traditional cultural practices and commercial powwows from being lumped into the same category, he said. They have very different meanings in Native American and Indigenous cultures.

There has been a focus on promoting smaller powwows held in tribal communities. Queton said these gatherings serve as a way for people who live elsewhere to return home and reconnect with their families and the land, and to share traditions with younger generations.

“Knowing where you come from, your land, your oral traditions, your language, but also values and traits — that can only be learned from a community,” he said. “That’s why those smaller dances are so important because people learn those community values. They’re all a part of our identity.”

Capturing good energy

There still are elements of tradition woven in to modern powwows. Competitors wear feathered bustles, buckskin dresses, fringed shawls and beaded head and hair pieces. Some of the elaborate outfits are hand-stitched designs that can take months to complete.

The sounds, movements and emotions that radiate from the dancing are challenging to capture on canvas. But Cochiti Pueblo painter Mateo Romero did just that when he partnered with the U.S. Postal Service to create a series of powwow stamps to be unveiled Friday during Gathering of Nations.

Powerfully hypnotic, atavistic and somatic is how the artist describes the dancing. One of his pieces depicts what is known as a fancy shawl dance with its dips, pivots, hops and twirls. Each tassel on the shawl flows and flips, accentuating the dancer’s movements.

Romero said he used color, thick and thin paint and soft and hard edges along with photographic elements to create something that feels alive, embedded with feeling and bright pops of color.

Romero called it a huge honor to transform powwow culture into a postage stamp filled with “good energy.”

“I look at it as a sort of vehicle to express this sentiment, the energy, the celebration, the vibration, the beauty of it,” he said. “It’s the power of it.”

Former Hennepin County District Judge Jay Quam, who retired last month, has been publicly reprimanded by the Minnesota Board on Judicial Standards after its investigation concluded he engaged in a sexual relationship with his law clerk and made inappropriate and sexually suggestive comments to other clerks.

Quam was appointed to the Fourth Judicial District bench in 2006 and stepped aside March 7 in the midst of the board’s investigation, which concluded that he violated the Minnesota Judicial Council’s harassment policy.

Former Hennepin County District Judge Jay Quam (Courtesy of Minnesota Judicial Branch)

The board began the investigation after receiving a complaint concerning Quam’s conduct. He cooperated with the case and did not demand a formal complaint and public hearing. He admitted that he engaged in the misconduct outlined in the public reprimand.

The reprimand says Quam engaged in inappropriate sexual contact with his law clerk for a period of time of her employment. The judge and clerk were seen by court employees and justice partners in and around the courthouse “without any apparent business reason,” the reprimand says.

Several years after she left the job, the relationship was renewed and continued until recently. In 2022 and early 2023, on at least three occasions, a court staff person overheard explicit sounds of sexual activity while Quam and his former clerk were in his chambers.

Within the past year, an attorney saw Quam and his former clerk “canoodling” outside the courthouse, sitting close together with hands on each other’s knees, the reprimand says.

Inappropriate comments

Quam’s inappropriate comments to other clerks included telling one that he would like to go to happy hour with her to “see another side of her after a few drinks,” according to the reprimand.

While looking another clerk up and down, Quam said, “Yeah, you definitely have a runner’s body.”

Quam commented to a clerk that she looked great for just having a baby.

He commented on clerks’ clothing in an awkward or flirtatious way, and offered compliments about food intake and appearance.

One clerk estimated that Quam made 50 to 60 inappropriate comments to her during her employment.

Quam would also stand “unnecessarily close” to clerks, or “leer” at them in a way that made them feel uncomfortable.

‘Substantial harm’

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In response to Quam’s conduct, clerks began to wear longer skirts, avoided his invitations to coffee or lunch and acted in an “extra-professional way” to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

“Clerks are fearful that Judge Quam may have an impact on their career and expressed uncertainty about including him as a reference,” the reprimand says.

Quam has otherwise enjoyed a “good reputation” throughout his career and does not have a disciplinary record with the board, the reprimand says.

“However, the degree of notoriety and effect of his misconduct has damaged the public’s confidence in the integrity of the judiciary,” it continues. “Judge Quam’s misconduct was serious and caused substantial harm to the court clerks and staff.”

If Quam had not yet retired, the board may have sought more serious discipline, the reprimand says.