Twelve miles west of downtown Chicago, Illinois, a quiet grid of warehouses and low buildings sit in the suburban Village of Broadview. On the edge of town sits a U.S. Customs and Immigration Enforcement (ICE) facility, which has long been used as a federal immigration processing center; it is now being used as a de facto detention station, where buses full of immigrants detained by ICE are brought before being put on deportation flights or moved to other facilities.
When the Trump Administration launched its immigration raid campaign in Chicago, dubbed Operation Midway Blitz, in early September, Broadview became a hub for ICE operations and a flashpoint for the immigration debate. The Broadview facility is designed only for short-term processing—typically less than twelve hours. But over the past several months, some migrants have been detained there for a week or longer without access to showers, medicine, beds, and lawyers.
The facility has joined the much-photographed 26 Federal Plaza in New York City, New York, as a site of escalating confrontations between protesters and federal immigration agents. At Broadview, protesters gather daily just beyond the chain-link fence that surrounds the facility, singing, praying, marching, and calling out the names of the detained. Department of Homeland Security (DHS) agents have fired rubber bullets, tear gas, and 40 mm baton rounds into the crowd. More than eighty protesters have been arrested since early October.
At the facility, the machinery of immigration enforcement and the logic of national security have fused into one. The result is a quiet form of intimidation, a sense that showing up, bearing witness, or even posting the wrong phrase online might be enough to draw federal attention. Legally, people in the United States still have the right to speak and assemble, but in practice, that right feels increasingly conditional. In early November, protesters were told that even praying outside the facility could result in arrest.
If the border once existed as a line on a map, Broadview shows what it has become. It is a mindset, a surveillance network, a predictive algorithm searching for disobedience. What is happening outside the facility is no longer only about immigration. It is about who is allowed to dissent, and who becomes a threat for trying.
Wali Khan
A family attempting to visit a family member inside the facility waits outside the entrance on September 12, 2025. Agents refused to let them in.
Wali Khan
A DHS agent standing outside the facility wields his pepper ball gun on September 12, 2025. Agents assaulted protesters while trucks full of detained immigrants entered the facility.
Wali Khan
DHS agents standing on the roof of the facility fire less lethal rounds into a crowd of protesters on the ground on September 26, 2025.
Wali Khan
Two demonstrators sit shoulder to shoulder after being tear-gassed and pepper-balled by DHS agents on September 26, 2025.
Wali Khan
Two people embrace outside the facility moments before DHS agents rushed into a group of protesters with crowd control munitions on September 27, 2025.
Wali Khan
DHS agents carry buckets of less lethal ammunition on September 12, 2025.
Wali Khan
A protester is arrested outside the facility on the night of September 26, 2025, after blocking the road to the immigration facility.
Wali Khan
A woman holds her guitar, which agents shot through with a 40 mm baton round while she was playing protest anthems as part of the Songs for Liberation Protest Music Collective outside the facility on September 26, 2025.
Wali Khan
A man peers through a newly erected steel fence at the facility on September 26, 2025. The same fence had to be taken down weeks later after the mayor of Broadview declared it illegal and unsafe and sued the DHS to have it removed.