It’s a heightened concern for the estimated who are U.S. citizens or legal permanent residents, as new work requirements kick in for the federal-state healthcare program that serves low-income and disabled Americans.

Starting next year in most states, many adults enrolled in Medicaid will have to prove they work, are enrolled in college or vocational courses, volunteer, or do unpaid work for at least .

Advocates say this could pose a significant challenge to Medicaid-eligible farmworkers, who frequently work more than 80 hours a month during harvest season but less in other months. What’s more, outside the harvest season, many workers take on informal jobs in construction, landscaping, or home repair for which they don’t receive formal paychecks that would prove their continuing Medicaid eligibility. Still, they can establish eligibility if they prove their average monthly income over six months is equivalent to at least 80 hours of work at the federal minimum wage.

“Having a work requirement — having to create more paperwork and more proof — is certainly extremely challenging for farmworkers and others who are low-income and who may especially have seasonal jobs, not year-round, and do have periods” when there is no work available, said Alexis Guild, vice president of strategy and programs at .

New Requirements, Additional Hurdles

Agriculture is a , and Americans to put food on their tables. Nearly 60% of those workers are U.S. citizens or green-card holders, according to the . The remaining 40% lack legal status or are otherwise ineligible for Medicaid.

Even among farmworkers with citizenship or legal status, the uninsured rate is three times that of the general population, and most farmworkers with insurance are Medicaid beneficiaries, although participation rates vary by state. According to a , 71%-79% of eligible farmworker households report participation in Medicaid.

The new Medicaid work requirements were a key provision of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act signed last July by President Donald Trump. Under the federal law, and the District of Columbia must implement the requirements by Jan. 1. A few states have the work rule early.

The 80-hour rule applies in states that expanded Medicaid, a process that began in 2014 and was tied to the Affordable Care Act. Following the initial expansions, agricultural workers with legal documentation became to have health insurance, according to a 2021 article in the American Journal of Agricultural Economics.

Immigration Anxieties

The work requirements are the latest in a long list of obstacles placed between workers and the healthcare they’re legally entitled to, Guild said. “Medicaid certainly helps because it alleviates the cost issue,” she said. “But there are still other barriers, such as transportation, taking sick leave, and finding time to visit a health center. All these factors can prevent them from actually receiving medical care.”

For farmworkers with green cards and naturalized U.S. citizens, there is another source of stress: the fear that signing up for Medicaid could put personal information in the hands of immigration authorities.

That’s what worries Luis, a 45-year-old green-card holder and Medicaid recipient who dreams of becoming a U.S. citizen. Luis — who asked to be identified by only his middle name — lives with his wife and daughter in North Carolina, where he has worked in agriculture for nearly a decade.

Speaking in Spanish, he said that when he learned about the work requirements, he knew it would be challenging for him to prove that he works 80 hours a month. “I only work on farms for six or seven months; the rest of the year I work in whatever I can find,” he said.

Republicans in Congress argue that work requirements will reduce federal healthcare spending, encourage nondisabled adults to , and preserve safety net resources for the most vulnerable populations.

Among Hispanic adults enrolled in Medicaid, 67% are already working, according to a 2025 .

The Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services did not respond to requests for comment for this article. But in June, when its “nationwide framework” to implement the Medicaid work requirements, Administrator Mehmet Oz said it would help beneficiaries “build skills and independence through work, education, job training, or community service, creating new opportunities for themselves and their families.” Federal officials say the new requirements “could reduce poverty by as much as 2.9 million people.”

Chronic Illness

Agricultural work is one of the nation’s , and it is associated with and , including respiratory conditions. A found that 37% of male farmworkers and 47% of female farmworkers in the state had at least one chronic health condition. The new work requirements present one more barrier for those seeking care, advocates said.

“People skip checkups and screenings, and conditions that could be caught early and treated cost-effectively” aren’t, said Adriana Cadena, executive director of .

Emergency rooms often become the “natural” place to go for healthcare, Cadena added. “This drives up waiting times and costs for all of us. … And when people are sick enough that they miss work, it starts a vicious cycle of lost productivity and family economic instability that again threatens all of us.”

A Loss for Families and Children

The new federal rules also require beneficiaries to verify their eligibility at least twice a year, twice as often as previously, creating another potential obstacle.

“Letters can easily be missed, and forms may go unfilled. If people get caught up in the paperwork, they could lose coverage,” said , an assistant vice president at , a nonprofit that promotes an equitable healthcare system.

For farmworkers who travel from state to state, the process can be especially difficult.

“You have to find the time to transfer your coverage and probably find a person or organization that can help you — and that can be really hard when you’re constantly moving,” Cadena said.

The situation highlights the difficulties of navigating a complex system for individuals and families already struggling to make ends meet.

“The result,” Cadena said, “could be the loss of coverage not only for workers, but also for their families and children.”

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He had been targeted by a drive-by shooter in Jacksonville, Florida, and hospitalized with two gunshot wounds. During his weeklong hospitalization, he said, a physician assistant changed the course of his life by visiting his hospital bed each day and warning him that Black men with gunshot wounds often end up paralyzed — or worse.

“I used to run the streets, you know, on the wrong sides of the track,” Pinckney said. “He made me promise that I would never come into his ER that way again. That was the last conversation we had, right before I was discharged.”

His goal since then has been to become a physician assistant. Pinckney, who spent most of his career working for New York City’s Department of Sanitation and as an Army Reserve medic, recently took a step toward achieving it. In May, he graduated with departmental honors from Lehman College with a Bachelor of Science degree.

After moving from New York to Prince George’s County, Maryland, he’d planned on applying for physician assistant school this year. But now, he’s worried his dream may be thwarted by new student loan rules.

Starting July 1, the amount of money graduate students will be allowed to borrow from the federal government . The new student loan limits are part of the GOP’s tax-and-spending legislation known as the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which President Donald Trump signed into law last year.

The caps are intended to curb the cost of higher education and student loan debt, according to the Trump administration.

But critics widely agree the new limits are too low, especially for students allowed to borrow only $20,500 a year in federal loans due to the law’s controversial definition of a “professional degree.” On June 24, a federal judge temporarily blocked the Department of Education from enforcing that definition. Still, for many students, the new caps won’t cover the combined cost of tuition, housing, and living expenses.

This could leave hundreds of thousands of students who borrow money for graduate school each year at the mercy of private lenders with higher interest rates and fewer repayment options.

Some experts and students also worry that the limits will threaten efforts to diversify the healthcare workforce by deterring minorities and people from low-income households from applying to graduate programs. A drop in incoming students could worsen existing rural and primary care shortages, they argue.

Many politicians and loan experts have acknowledged that the cost of higher education needs to be addressed. But the new federal loan limits are “just not going to achieve that goal,” said Todd Pickard, president of the American Academy of Physician Associates, one of several organizations that have sued the Department of Education over the rules.

“It’d be like if you had a hangnail and I cut your whole arm off instead of just taking care of your hangnail,” Pickard said. “The treatment doesn’t match the problem.”

‘A Rock and a Hard Place’

Students working toward what the law describes as “professional degrees” — including trainee doctors, dentists, pharmacists, and chiropractors — will be allowed to borrow up to $200,000 total, and no more than $50,000 a year.

Meanwhile, the median cost of attending a public medical school is nearly $300,000 over four years, while the median cost of a private medical school education exceeds $400,000, according to the Association of American Medical Colleges.

The caps were set even lower for those pursuing other “graduate” degrees, who face a $100,000 borrowing limit for federal loans over the course of their degree programs. The annual limit for this category of students is only $20,500. Students pursuing physical therapy, physician assistant, and nursing degrees were originally included in this group. But according to new guidance issued by the Department of Education on June 29, some of these students will at least temporarily be able to borrow up to the higher limit, .

The Department of Education, which has been sued by clinician trade groups and about two dozen states over the new rules, did not respond to questions for this article.

As the law was written, a physician assistant student who completed their degree within the average two to three years would not have been eligible to borrow the full $100,000. Meanwhile, physician assistants typically start their careers with an average debt of $112,000, meaning some could be forced to finance their education with higher-interest private loans.

“I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place,” said Olivia Trull, 24, who is scheduled to begin the physician assistant program at Northwest University in Kirkland, Washington, this summer. The 28-month program costs $137,000, with about $62,000 in tuition and fees estimated for the first year, she said. That doesn’t include living expenses.

Before the court order, Trull said she qualified for the maximum annual allotment under the new rules of $20,500 in federal loans during her first year of graduate school. The balance would need to be financed through a private lender.

She anticipated she would need up to $100,000 in private loans to finance her graduate degree and would face loan payments of more than $3,000 a month when she was done.

“I have to actually sit down and have a conversation with myself,” Trull said, to consider “if I want to be drowning in debt for the next 10 years of my life.” One private bank offered her a loan with an interest rate of nearly 14%, she said.

Pinckney, who said he finished his undergraduate degree with about $10,000 in federal student loan debt, said some of his friends who have already applied for private student loans have been quoted interest rates as high as 13%. Meanwhile, interest rates for federal loans for graduate students, which are set annually, are currently about 8-9%. Federal loans also offer more flexible repayment options than private loans typically do.

In May, 25 states and the District of Columbia against the Department of Education over the new rules. The complaint described the law’s “professional degree” definition as “arbitrary and capricious.”

In a separate filed in June, the American Academy of Physician Associates and the PA Education Association alleged that the new rules deny students the loan amounts needed to attend physician assistant schools. They argue that PA students should be able to access the higher loan limits available to students in medical school and other professional degree programs. (While “physician assistant” and “physician associate” typically refer to the same role, the AAPA in 2021 because of “concern that ‘assistant’ does not reflect the important role of PAs in delivering high-quality healthcare to patients.”)

Meanwhile, Trump administration officials have contended the cost of graduate school is too high across the board. Education Secretary Linda McMahon, speaking before a House committee in May about the new limits, said, “It is our overall goal to bring down the cost of college and education.”

Indeed, some experts acknowledge that the new limits may be helpful in bringing down costs. The federal Grad PLUS loan program, established by Congress 20 years ago, did not cap the amount graduate students could borrow in federal loans. That program was eliminated in the One Big Beautiful Bill Act.

“There is considerable evidence that people borrowed more than they really needed to go to school,” said Sandy Baum, a higher education economist and a senior fellow at the Urban Institute.

Already, some graduate programs have lowered tuition prices, Baum said. In May, for example, the it would lower the cost of its MBA programs by tens of thousands of dollars to fall below the new federal lending thresholds.

And yet Baum doesn’t anticipate many other schools will follow suit.

“I don’t think we’re going to see some dramatic decline in prices,” she said. “I think some programs could close down because they can’t manage.”

‘Tears Have Been Shed’

The new lending limits will also disproportionately affect Black students, Baum said, because they have historically borrowed more than white and Hispanic students.

For some students who borrowed money to finance their undergraduate degrees, the new limits will hit especially hard. Under the new rules, they will be subject to a lifetime limit of $257,000 in federal student loans.

“There will be students who can’t enroll,” Baum said.

Andrei Robu, 26, a medical student at the Medical University of South Carolina, leads the Financial Literacy Interest Group on the Charleston campus. He said many of his peers are worried that the lending limits will make the student body less diverse.

He is also concerned that, because the demand for acceptance into medical school is already so high, schools could prioritize entrance for students from wealthy backgrounds and “still fill up their classes.”

“That’s just not what we want in our physician workforce,” said Robu, who isn’t subject to the new rules as a current student. “We want to represent the population of the country at large.”

Jasmine Vasquez, 26, who has been accepted into the physician assistant program at South College in Atlanta, decided to defer her enrollment until 2027, partly to see if her financing options change. She is worried about taking on too much debt from a private bank.

“Tears have been shed multiple times,” said Vasquez, who is due to give birth in September. “It’s nothing that’s within my control.”

Betsy Mayotte, president of the Institute for Student Loan Advisors, expects the new rules will force some graduates into bankruptcy when they can’t afford to repay private loans.

First, though, she expects enrollment numbers to drop and some graduate programs to close because they can’t recruit enough students. Completion rates will also drop, she expects, as students run into federal loan limits partway through their degree programs.

Beyond that, she predicts healthcare graduates will seek jobs in high-paying specialties, exacerbating shortages in rural and underserved communities.

“They’re going to go where they can make the most money,” Mayotte said.

Pinckney said he is “not really sure” what the future holds. He paid for most of his undergraduate education by working while he was in school, but that’s typically not possible for full-time physician assistant students.

He has considered applying to a biomedical science graduate program instead, which he estimated would cost about $30,000 — an amount that’s “a lot more doable,” he said. It would allow him to potentially work in a lab or in pharmaceuticals, he said. It’s still aligned with medicine, he said, but it wouldn’t help him realize his goal of working with patients.

“Maybe this thing will blow over,” he said of the new federal loan limits. In the meantime, he’s holding out hope.

“If I can influence one person’s life, that would be my way of paying him forward for what he did,” he said, referring to the physician assistant who inspired him back in 1999. “It’s very hard to pivot from that dream.”

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But after surgery, Bates said, she couldn’t get out of bed or walk to the bathroom without help. She complained of intense pain radiating down her left leg, weakness in her knee, and a numbing sensation below it, according to hospital records. Bates, who worked as an Uber Eats driver, didn’t have the strength to drive a car.

Still, Bates said, the hospital told her it was time to go.

“They didn’t do any further X-rays or CTs or MRIs to figure out why my knee was numb,” she said. “And they were just like, you know, ‘It’ll go away.’”

Doctors said she was medically stable, Bates said, and because she had no health insurance, they could not send her to a rehabilitation hospital or a skilled nursing facility, which can charge thousands of dollars a day for such care.

“They were just like, We need the bed for somebody who has insurance,” she said. “That’s of course, you know, what they say without saying it.”

At least one firearm injury is treated in an American emergency room every . Tens of thousands die from their injuries every year. Many more, like Bates, are left to face long recoveries, steep medical debt, and enduring trauma.

How insurance affects the care of gunshot wound victims has remained shrouded in mystery — until now, due to a new analysis by The Trace and Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News of data that Florida hospitals compile to collect payments from insurance companies and file with the state.

When uninsured patients arrive at hospitals in Florida with gunshot wounds, on average they spend significantly fewer days in the hospital — in some cases half the time — than those with health insurance, according to the data analysis.

Among the most severely injured patients, the uninsured stayed three fewer days in the hospital on average than their counterparts with insurance.

The data was obtained exclusively for this reporting on gun violence hospitalizations in the state, aided by Florida state law.

The newsrooms spent more than a year analyzing the records, which did not identify patients. The data contained patients’ insurance status, their residential ZIP code, their race, and other demographic info. Reporters reviewed academic studies and government documents and interviewed health policy experts, doctors, activists, and victims of gun violence or their relatives.

The results are a first-of-its-kind look at what happens to the insured and the uninsured who are shot and admitted to the hospital for treatment.

Across Florida, the analysis of hospital billing data from 2018 to 2024 obtained from the Florida Agency for Health Care Administration shows:

• Uninsured patients make up a quarter of the more than 20,000 gunshot wound hospitalizations identified, making them the largest single group treated for firearm injuries.
• Uninsured gunshot victims had hospital stays of about six days on average, only three-quarters of the time spent by patients with private insurance and less than half the average stay for patients on traditional Medicaid, the public health insurance program for poor and disabled people.
• The gap in hospital care persisted regardless of hospital size, location, or ownership type, including at facilities that receive taxpayer money with a mandate to treat all patients regardless of their ability to pay.
• Of the gunshot wound patients, nearly half were Black, making the group highly overrepresented. About a quarter of nonwhite patients were uninsured, versus fewer than a fifth of white patients.

The inequality echoes a in U.S. healthcare against Black and Latino patients, groups that and a .

The U.S. has deaths than other wealthy nations, and no group suffers more than Black Americans like Bates. Black people are far to become victims of a firearm homicide than white people, according to the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health.

Patient outreach workers say hospital personnel might perceive gunshot victims as gang members or troublemakers who deserve blame for getting shot. rehab centers refuse to admit gunshot victims more often than other patients, and some medical records from hospitals were littered with racist or insensitive descriptions of patients and their behavior.

The damage can be lasting: Patients who after a traumatic injury have a higher risk of serious complications, including infection, hemorrhage, nerve damage, and death, especially if wounds — and mental health concerns — are left untreated.

, a University of Florida professor and vice chair for research in community health and family medicine, said there’s evidence that financial incentives drive care — for patients and for hospitals.

Regardless of how often the care team is told to follow quality protocols, Mainous said, “ultimately there’s a business aspect to it, whether the physician is thinking about it or not, whether the nurses think about it or not. But somebody is.”

The Florida data findings come at a time when Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis and state lawmakers have pushed to make guns cheaper and more widely available, despite a in the state from 2014 to 2023, and when President Donald Trump’s administration has rolled back legislation from the Joe Biden presidency to curb gun violence and .

allows eligible residents to carry a concealed firearm and to openly carry a firearm without a state-issued license. State law also prevents cities and counties from enacting stricter gun control measures.

In early June, Florida Attorney General James Uthmeier to strike down the state’s three-day waiting period for receiving a purchased gun, arguing it is unconstitutional. Uthmeier’s request is part of a proposed settlement of a lawsuit brought by the National Rifle Association.

Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News and The Trace requested to speak with administrators at nine of Florida’s large hospital systems to ask why the disparities exist. None agreed to an interview.

Sarah Cannon, communications director at Tallahassee Memorial HealthCare, would not agree to an interview or address Bates’ account of her care for gunshot injuries.

“Clinical decisions, including acute medical intervention, readiness for discharge, and post-acute care needs, are guided by the patient’s condition and response to treatment,” she said in an email.

Cannon said the hospital offers support to patients after discharge, including from social workers who coordinate care and access to services including post-acute care placement, home healthcare, and primary care or specialty follow-up.

Bates said she had to coordinate her own care after being released from the hospital. She said nobody called to schedule a follow-up test of her leg’s muscle function, and her medical records show she did not receive one.

“If I had had insurance,” she said, “they would have definitely kept me there for at least another week to work with me on my standing and walking.”

‘It’s a Business’

Some of Florida’s largest hospitals showed huge differences in length of stay for gun injuries, the Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News-Trace analysis showed. In Miami at Jackson Memorial, the average number of days in the hospital for uninsured patients was 6.6; for those with private insurance, it was 10.7; and for those on traditional Medicaid, it was 15.4. Jackson Memorial did not respond to requests for comment.

Tampa General Hospital reported 4.9 days for uninsured patients, 8 days for those with private insurance, and 13.6 days for Medicaid patients. “To suggest that care decisions for trauma-related patients, and in this case, gun shot victims, are influenced by insurance status is not only absurd, it’s inaccurate,” Amanda Bevis, a hospital spokesperson, said in a written statement. “At Tampa General, every patient is treated equally, based on clinical need and urgency, not insurance coverage.”

And at UF Health Jacksonville, it was 7.2 days for the uninsured, 8.5 days for the privately insured, and 13.8 days for patients on traditional Medicaid. UF Health declined to comment.

Broward Health in Fort Lauderdale reported 7.5 days for uninsured patients, 10.5 days for privately insured patients, and 12.2 days for those on traditional Medicaid. “Insurance status does not impact treatment plans for patients,” Jennifer Smith, a Broward Health spokesperson, said in an email. “Our physicians always proceed in the best interest of the patient regardless of reimbursement or what length of stay may be required.”

Memorial Regional Hospital in Hollywood reported 6.7 days for uninsured patients, 8.8 days for privately insured patients, and 9.5 days for those on traditional Medicaid. Tania Ordaz, a hospital spokesperson, said in an email that she disagreed with the findings: “Treatment decisions are based on the patient’s clinical condition and what is necessary to ensure a safe and appropriate transition of care, not on the patient’s insurance status.”

Trauma surgeons and academics said the Florida data aligns with research nationwide on where gun violence occurs and who’s most affected. Some said they fear the differences contribute to long-standing disparities in America’s healthcare system along the lines of race and class.

The Florida hospital data showed gunshot injuries are concentrated in a handful of ZIP codes marked by poverty, disinvestment, redlining, and other injustices stemming from racial discrimination.

“Why would people without insurance be discharged earlier?” Mainous said. “Because they’re in better health? I think we’ve got a lot of data that would suggest that’s not true.”

Once they leave the hospital, people with commercial insurance or traditional Medicaid are more than twice as likely to receive follow-up care from another provider — such as a rehab center or home health service — as uninsured patients.

Those patients are staying longer, in part, because hospital case managers coordinate their transfers to other facilities, which can be time-consuming and take days.

“You have to go through insurance authorization and approval,” said , a trauma surgeon formerly at Jackson Memorial in Miami who now practices in Oregon. He said patients with private insurance might have access to rehab, preventive care, and training for both the patient and their caregiver to “help them transition to a completely new phase of life.”

For patients without insurance, he said, “sometimes our hands are a little bit tied.”

“The hospital is telling us that this patient has to leave the hospital because they’re medically ready,” he said, “and so I guess we’re discharging them to their car or to their tent, and it doesn’t feel right, but I think that would probably explain some of the differences” in length of stay.

, a trauma surgeon at Jackson Memorial, said hospital staff work to ensure that uninsured patients with long recoveries learn to care for wounds and to enlist family help at home.

Valenzuela said the county-owned hospital does not send uninsured patients home to fend for themselves. She goes into neighborhoods and follows up with patients as part of a Miami-Dade County violence intervention program, whose social workers help them access food, employment, and more to heal and feel safe.

“We know that full recovery is beyond just the hospital and even the rehab centers, even the best ones,” Valenzuela said, pointing to housing and navigating the healthcare system as factors.

runs the Miami-Dade program, which connects victims of gun violence with social workers who visit bedside at the hospital and an intensive care unit-trained nurse who visits at home to provide wound care and other services.

Rawlins said young, Black gunshot patients without health insurance are often at a loss when they leave the hospital about how to schedule a follow-up appointment or manage their mental health.

“After they have been shot and they’re getting out of the hospital and they’re still in crisis,” he said, “their concern is more: How am I going to now pay the rent? How am I going to live? Who’s going to take care of me?”

Often, he said, his uninsured clients leave the hospital before they are ready.

“That’s the reality of it: It’s a business,” he said. “It’s like a hotel. You know, checkout time: You got to go. We got to make room for someone, for a next customer.”

How Long Is Long Enough?

Alea Bates said the hospital discharged her with crutches and one prescription: a seven-day supply of the painkiller Percocet.

A family member drove Bates home. She wore a leg brace, with bandages on her back, stomach, hand, forearm, and feet. When she tried to get out of the car, Bates said, her knee gave and she fell.

Surgeons, health policy experts, and researchers say physicians follow evidence-based best practices for treating gunshot wounds and that a shorter hospital stay does not necessarily reflect a lower-level of care.

, an assistant professor of surgery at the University of Pennsylvania who conducts research on violence reduction, offered one explanation.

In published in The Journal of Trauma and Acute Care Surgery, Kaufman and colleagues found that patients who were admitted while uninsured but then enrolled in Medicaid during their hospitalization — and who needed ongoing rehabilitative care after discharge — spent more time in the hospital and had higher costs.

“I have personally been in situations where I felt like I did the best I could for a patient, but they would say, ‘You’re kicking me out,’” she said. “Sometimes, what the doctor is telling you doesn’t match what you are feeling in your body.”

But Kaufman said: “I’m not going to tell you hospitals never discriminate. That would not be realistic. I would say it is more indirect.”

Kaufman said she couldn’t judge whether Bates stayed in the hospital long enough because she was not her doctor. Still, she said, Bates “didn’t get what she needed from our healthcare system.”

Unlike many states, Florida excludes most single adults without children, like Bates, from Medicaid eligibility, making it exceedingly uncommon for a Medicaid patient to have been admitted as an uninsured adult.

Gunshot survivors endure bleeding and oozing flesh wounds and pain, and they experience . “These experiences are common, but they are not talked about,” Kaufman said. “Mental health is part of the recovery process.”

Recovering the ability to walk or use an arm or a leg after a gunshot wound requires rehab and physical therapy that can be out of financial reach for uninsured patients, said , a pediatric surgeon and an associate professor at the University of Maryland who that uninsured patients hospitalized for traumatic injuries have shorter stays than insured patients.

A shorter stay, he said, “suggests that these patients are not getting the same level of care, and that’s going to put them at risk for functional deficits down the road.”

He said it is impossible to arrive at a set number of days that any patient should remain in a hospital. Factors include the severity of their injury, their age, and any other illnesses they have.

“We’re looking for that Goldilocks length of stay,” Englum said, “and unfortunately, it is not perfectly defined for any specific admission, and it’s not perfectly defined for any specific patient.”

‘Oh, Shit. He Shot Me.’

Bates had delivered her last order for the night when she was shot. It was December 2019: As she was walking back to her car, she heard two loud bangs. Just kids playing pranks, she thought to herself. Then she turned toward the sound and saw a gun pointed at her.

“In that split second it registered in my mind, like, ‘Oh, shit. He shot me,’” Bates said. “I had some brief, like, burning, but it wasn’t registering in my brain right away what it was.”

Within seconds, Bates said, the stranger emptied the clip of his handgun into her body, even after she fell to the ground. He shot her seven times — twice in the back and once each in the pelvis, stomach, left forearm, right thumb, and right foot.

Bates screamed. She reached for her cellphone to call 911. She said residents came out of their apartments. Someone took her phone to tell the emergency dispatcher the address. Another person pressed towels on her wounds to slow the bleeding. An ambulance rushed her to Tallahassee Memorial.

Bates said she did not believe race was a factor in the care she received. But she believed that the circumstances surrounding her shooting — that it happened while she was working, and that she did not know the shooter — affected the way doctors and nurses viewed her.

Language in medical records can sometimes signal a bias in clinicians and perpetuate differences in care that patients receive, said , an associate professor at the Boston University School of Public Health who conducts research on exposure to gun violence.

Jay said bias based on patients’ race, income, or insurance status can deny some people necessary treatment once they leave the hospital.

He said his research suggests the healthcare system treats gunshot survivors and motor vehicle accident victims differently based on perceptions of “whether the victim was in no way at fault. They made assumptions when a person was violently shot.”

“The results are consistent with what we hear so much from hospital outreach workers for gunshot victims,” he said. “They say there is substantial bias. There is an assumption that they contributed to their condition with risky behavior.”

The preoperative notes in Bates’ medical records describe her as “a pleasant 39-year-old female who sustained multiple gunshot wounds to her abdomen, pelvis and extremities last night after performing Uber Eats delivery.”

Bates said it mattered to her caregivers what she was doing when she was shot.

“The nurses and doctors, they all talk about that stuff,” she said. “They were like, ‘Oh, my God, you were ambushed. That’s so scary.’

“I was working. Like, I don’t know these people. And the fact that they were teenagers, I think that that is what maybe changed the narrative,” she said. “Because I feel a lot of times people blame you for what happened.

“But when I was asked and I told them what happened and my story and how I got there,” she said, “I think just the shock in people’s eyes of like, ‘Oh, my God. So you really were, like, you know, minding your business.’”

She added: “And it also wasn’t in a sketchy part of town, if I can just say that. I was in a predominantly white complex. So I think that’s what saved me.”

‘Less Than a Human Being’

Bates had received care at the hospital before as an insured patient.

She had lost her job in the legal department of a state agency — along with her insurance — two months before she was shot.

As an uninsured patient, Bates said, “they kind of just dismiss you. It makes you feel like less than a human being.”

She said she felt ignored when she told doctors she didn’t feel safe going home after four days. She said the physical therapist working with her at the hospital had persuaded the facility to let her stay an extra day.

“We would like, as a medical community, I think as a society, to see everybody get the same care,” said Englum, the University of Maryland trauma surgeon. “Regardless of what color their skin is, what insurance status they have — we want them to get appropriate care.”

The reason for racial or ethnic differences in care is hard to tease out, Englum said. Is it that there’s mistrust of the medical system in some Black and Latino communities, leading people to avoid going to rehab because they don’t want to be there? Is it an income issue? Is it that medical providers see some patients and, due to implicit or explicit bias, think, “That’s as good as they’re going to get?”

“Getting that care is what you need to get your full functional outcome back. And if you’re not getting it,” he said, “patients are suffering that didn’t have to.”

At home, Bates said, she depended on family members to help her out of bed, drive her places, even help her feel safe out in public.

“I really didn’t know how to stand or move or walk around,” she said. “I had to figure it out.”

She still fears loud noises, which remind her of being shot. Bates said she and her dog stay indoors on July Fourth and New Year’s Eve.

“The fireworks were going off, and I was paralyzed,” Bates said of her first New Year’s Eve after being shot. “I was literally sitting there crying. My cousin actually came outside and put my noise-canceling headphones on and turned the music on so that I couldn’t hear anymore. That’s the only way that I could move from outside to inside.”

Bates said her follow-up care included getting her stitches removed at an orthopedic clinic that has physicians who work at the hospital and had performed the initial surgery.

During the visit, Bates said, the orthopedic clinic’s staff reminded her of the unpaid balance from her surgery, which was about $1,200 for physician services. She still owed the hospital $52,000 for treatment, according to her medical bills, and an additional $5,300 for the anesthesiologist. Bates was not working at the time.

Bates said a community outpatient clinic provided physical therapy at a reduced cost and that the victim advocate unit at the Tallahassee Police Department helped find her mental health counseling and get her financial aid from Florida’s .

By 2021, Bates developed a cyst on the gunshot wound to her right thumb, which required surgery. But, she said, the clinic would not perform the surgery until she paid her $1,200 balance. She said friends paid the bill so she could have the surgery.

Bates’ knee bothered her. “Even with going through physical therapy,” she said, “it was still like I couldn’t feel it.”

Bates said she now has private health insurance that pays for her mental health therapy. She pays for physical therapy out-of-pocket.

“It’s crazy that in this country somebody else can hurt you,” Bates said, and “you have to pay for what they did to you.”

“So it’s like you’re triple-paying: You’re paying every day mentally, you’re paying with the bills, and you’re paying by them saying, We know that this is not your fault, but we still have to make our money.”

Methodology

The Trace and Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News examined more than 20 million inpatient hospitalizations in Florida from 2018 to 2024, using data obtained from the Florida Agency for Health Care Administration. We identified 20,255 gunshot wound-related visits using the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s injury surveillance case definition, which relies on diagnosis codes. We limited the analysis to initial encounters and excluded patients who died in the hospital or left against medical advice. We excluded cases in the top 1% for hospital length of stay (68 days or more) to prevent these outliers from disproportionately influencing results.

Our primary finding compares the average length of stay of uninsured patients with that of privately insured patients. We chose privately insured patients as the reference group because many researchers believe their care on average is long enough to be effective but not longer than medically necessary. Overall, uninsured patients had hospital stays that were about 25% shorter on average than privately insured patients’ and 50% shorter than those of patients on traditional Medicaid. In most cases we also found that, within the same hospital, uninsured patients had shorter stays than privately insured ones.

To assess whether age or injury severity explained the shorter lengths of stay for uninsured patients, we calculated and fit regression models for Florida’s highest-volume gunshot wound hospitals. We found that, in nearly all cases, the gap narrowed slightly but did not disappear.

Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News data editor Holly K. Hacker contributed to this report.

This article was produced in partnership with The Trace, a nonprofit newsroom covering gun violence in America. .

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Hundreds of detainees across at least 33 states allege in federal suits that immigration detention facilities are failing to provide adequate medical care, an investigation by Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News and The Associated Press found. Detainees say they didn’t get medications on time — or at all — for conditions including high blood pressure, diabetes, depression, epilepsy, Parkinson’s, and HIV. Requests for help went unanswered for weeks. Blood sugars rose. Infections festered. Cancers remained untreated. Detainees collapsed and had seizures.

U.S. jails and immigration detention centers have to meet the medical needs of the people in their charge. But the system is sagging under an influx of detentions since President Donald Trump returned to office: More than 75,000 immigrants were being detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement , up from around 40,000 a year earlier.

Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News and AP analyzed thousands of court cases filed since Trump’s second inauguration that use a legal route known as habeas corpus to argue people are being held illegally by ICE. The records offer a rare window into how those detained say, often under penalty of perjury, ICE is handling their medical needs. Reporters also interviewed more than 50 detainees, family members, and lawyers.

The investigation revealed that medical neglect is alleged across the sprawling detention system, including in offices not designed to house people, county jails, and quickly staged sites with nicknames such as “Alligator Alcatraz.”

ICE custody is deadlier than it has been in two decades, researchers wrote in April. The Department of Homeland Security reported 51 people had died in detention since the start of Trump’s second administration — with suicides .

Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News and AP asked DHS to respond to the findings six days before publication, but it did not provide comment. The department’s acting chief medical officer, Sean Conley, has “it is both policy and longstanding practice for aliens to receive timely and appropriate medical care from the moment they enter ICE custody” and that the agency recruits healthcare professionals to maintain high standards. “This is better, more responsive healthcare than many aliens have ever received in their entire lives,” he has said.

Individual facilities and private prison companies contracting with DHS that responded to requests for comment said they follow ICE standards and detainees receive medical care when it is required. Some said they were unfamiliar with the allegations outlined in court documents; others blamed some detainees for lapses in their medical care.

“I have never seen such disregard or medical neglect like this anywhere,” Vardan Gukasian, a political dissident and former paramedic who spent years behind bars in Armenia, wrote in in March to contest his detention in Henderson, Nevada, as it stretched to 13 months despite health problems.

Madeleine Skains, a spokesperson for the city of Henderson, said medical care is always available at the facility and that the court had not ordered changes to his care.

Last June, as Gukasian experienced the symptoms of uncontrolled high blood pressure — dizziness, a nosebleed, and a headache — his cellmate banged on their door for help.

“When it did not arrive, the rest of the block banged on their doors,” he wrote. Gukasian was hospitalized that day.

‘Brazen Indifference to Really Obvious Problems’

The administration’s mass deportation effort has swept up during routine immigration check-ins, at traffic stops, at their homes, and in hospitals.

About have no criminal conviction. Their immigration proceedings are civil, not criminal.

“I couldn’t understand why they treated me so harshly,” said a father of six in Georgia. He said he was injured while shackled in custody when the vehicle transporting him to an Atlanta facility jolted, throwing him out of his seat and into a metal armrest. His wound became infected with E. coli, he said, because he had to sleep on a dirty concrete floor amid leaking toilets.

Like other detainees interviewed, he spoke on the condition of anonymity; they said they fear for their safety, for the safety of their families, or that speaking out would jeopardize their immigration cases. The AP and Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News are not naming anyone identified in court documents without their consent.

Staffers at Stewart Detention Center in rural Lumpkin, Georgia, didn’t adequately respond to that man’s request for medical help, , until he passed out and was taken to a hospital about an hour away. There, he said, a doctor told him he’d narrowly escaped amputation of his left leg. Medical staff found no records of a case matching this description, according to Brian Todd, a spokesperson for CoreCivic, which runs the facility.

The 48-year-old, who moved to the U.S. from Guatemala more than two decades ago, was released in October and is now a legal permanent resident. But he is unsure if he’ll be able to return to his job in construction because, he said, he can no longer lift heavy things due to his injury.

Some detainees or their lawyers said even basic care was denied: gauze to protect an open foot wound, prenatal care for a high-risk pregnancy, a pillow to ease the pain of sleeping with advanced stomach cancer, sanitary pads for postpartum bleeding.

“I would like to believe the government has the best interest of those it holds in detention for whatever period of time,” Judge Benita Pearson, a federal judge in Ohio, said during a hearing in October concerning a 70-year-old who alleged the government lost her glasses during her arrest. “If one is unable to see due to the loss of glasses when detained, that should be fixed.”

, who worked for ICE and now serves as a special adviser to the American Bar Association, said case law requires the government to treat people in immigration detention with the same care it affords those in traditional jails awaiting trial. But administrators are granted discretion and medical care standards vary.

Detainees are frequently moved across the country, often without warning, interrupting treatment. A woman from El Salvador said she missed a week of HIV medication when she was transferred from Colorado to a county jail in Wyoming.

A Russian man wrote that, while detained in Texas, he saw a gastroenterologist about his painful gallstones and scheduled an appointment with a surgeon. “Unfortunately, I never got to see him, due to my being moved around various detention centers.”

Advocates say that even obvious disabilities, like legal blindness, are ignored.

A detainee who lost one eye and had severe glaucoma in the other required twice-daily drops to maintain what vision remained. But, he said, some days the drops never came.

“Now I can only see a little bit straight in front. It now often looks like I’m seeing through gauze,” the man wrote in a court declaration. “This makes me very afraid that one of these times I am going to open my eyes and not be able to see anything at all.”

He wrote that he was scared he wouldn’t be able to see his infant son grow up.

“It’s just sort of brazen indifference to really obvious problems, things you would have thought absurd a decade ago — like the fact that you can’t see,” the man’s attorney, Brian Hoffman, said. “Before, you could attempt to work with folks on the government side and maybe shame them into doing the right thing. Now, it’s sort of like anything you want done you have to go to court and sue over.”

Even court orders aren’t always enough. One California judge ordered the government to take a man showing signs of prostate cancer to a specialist for diagnosis and treatment. Records show they did not take him.

Lawyers representing ICE told the judge that officials missed the appointment because of an “internal scheduling error.” CoreCivic, which runs that facility, said it was unable to comment on active litigation.

A Surge in Cases

When immigrants file habeas corpus petitions, they exercise a right to challenge unlawful imprisonment that dates to .

More than 40,000 such petitions have been filed during Trump’s second term, fueled by decisions last year to deny bond to many people held on immigration charges. Judges are split on whether that’s legal; the question appears headed to the Supreme Court.

Many habeas claims , but judges typically cite reasons unrelated to the medical neglect described in the petitions, such as detainees’ being held too long before being deported.

The more than 300 medical neglect claims found in this investigation represent a fraction of the problem. The details of habeas corpus cases are often hidden due to a federal rule barring the public from viewing such documents online. Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News and AP obtained some documents from courthouses and received records on 4,400 cases from , a project of the nonprofit Immigration Justice Transparency Initiative. But tens of thousands more remain largely inaccessible.

Some judges have written that the habeas process is not how to raise allegations of medical neglect and have declined to release detainees over those claims. Not every detainee who believes they experienced medical neglect files a habeas petition or cites their medical issues if they do.

Jose-Antonio Segismundo’s petition made no mention of being unable to see an oncologist for the cancer in his abdomen while detained for more than seven months at the Florida detention facility known as Alligator Alcatraz and Folkston D Ray ICE Processing Center in Georgia. Medical records in his court filings show he was arrested about five weeks before his scheduled appointment with a cancer specialist.

His wife, Maria Jose Gonzalez, said he didn’t receive any treatment even though she sent his medical records and explained his condition to officials at Folkston. When his stomach pain erupted, often suddenly and intensely, she said, they gave him Tylenol.

Geo Group, which runs Folkston, follows ICE standards and provides healthcare and access to off-site medical specialists when needed, spokesperson Christopher Ferreira said.

This spring, Segismundo, 48, was deported to Mexico, a country he left nearly 30 years ago, Gonzalez said. Now, she said, he will have to restart his search for care in the Oaxacan village where he grew up.

Watching Loved Ones Deteriorate

Detainees receiving inadequate healthcare have little recourse. The Department of Homeland Security last year gutted the Office of the Immigration Detention Ombudsman. In early May, it shut the office entirely, arguing that Congress didn’t fund it.

Previously, ombudsman staffers could help facilitate medical care or look into complaints of neglect, according to Matt Boles, an immigration attorney in Georgia. Now, he said, there’s no one to call.

Meanwhile, detainees’ families said they feel helpless, making desperate calls to facilities, the government, and their legislators while watching their loved ones deteriorate.

Riya Khan saw her mother get sicker at the California City Detention Facility, which is owned by CoreCivic. When she visited a week after her mother arrived at the facility in the Mojave Desert, Riya said, the 64-year-old woman stumbled into her seat. She was shaking and her breathing was labored.

Masuma Khan came to the U.S. from Bangladesh in 1997. She has no criminal history, her records say, and was detained in October when she showed up for her regular ICE check-in.

For the month she was detained, according to her daughter, she only intermittently received her medications for conditions including high blood pressure, hypothyroidism, and prediabetes. CoreCivic treats chronic conditions in line with applicable medical standards, Todd said.

“Nothing matters more to CoreCivic than the health, safety and well-being of the people in our care,” Todd said.

Khan said she got her asthma medication for the first time two days before she was released and that her eye drops for glaucoma never arrived. Staffers told Khan she needed to buy some of her medications from the commissary but it didn’t stock them, her daughter said.

Before ICE detained Masuma Khan, she made friends with everyone, her daughter said. She had worked for years at Lucky Boy, an iconic Pasadena fast-food restaurant, and in her free time fed birds and left out fruit for bees that visited her apartment’s balcony.

Now she’s too scared to go outside. She still must regularly check in with ICE, and she’s terrified each time.

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A Stroke on a Video Call

Previously, detainees with serious medical needs would likely have been released on humanitarian parole, in part to avoid the cost of their care, Vermont attorney Andrew Pelcher said.

In fiscal year 2023 — before the detained population soared — ICE spent more than $390 million on healthcare for detained noncitizens, according to its to Congress. In May, Todd Lyons, then acting director of ICE, said at a conference that the agency had already spent “almost half a billion dollars” on detainee healthcare this year.

Now, under “mandatory detention,” people are staying locked up with serious — and expensive — conditions.

A Romanian citizen underwent several heart surgeries, including an emergency triple bypass in April 2025, before he was arrested in July. As part of his recovery, the 52-year-old was required to take 16 daily medications. While at an ICE field office in Baltimore, his court filings allege, he went two days without any medication before officials moved him to a facility in New Jersey.

He was hospitalized three times while detained, complaining of chest pains — in part, medical records and court documents say, because despite “countless requests,” the detention center did not provide all his medications. Hospital discharge papers cited by his lawyer show he received only eight of the 16 medications after his second release from the hospital.

“Can you please talk to the ICE facility to make sure they give him his medications?” his treatment providers wrote in medical records included in his court filings. “He was admitted last week for chest pain and today he was readmitted again for chest pain secondary to non compliance for medications.”

Several weeks later in August, he had a stroke while on a video call with his daughter, according to court filings. “He was struggling to breathe, and was pointing at his chest where he was again experiencing pain, and suddenly stopped speaking.” His daughter screamed for help through the video monitor, according to his petition. “Eventually an officer came in to assist him and cut the feed.”

The man lost his ability to speak for four days, the document says. He was returned to detention, where he remained until a federal judge ordered his release in November.

Impossible Choices

Cassandra Amador waits for the phone to ring every morning, desperate to ask her husband the question that’s woken her up every night for months: “Did you get your medicine?”

Her husband, Pedro Javier Amador Gutierrez, 36, has high blood pressure and depends on the state-run facility in Florida nicknamed “Deportation Depot” to administer the prescriptions that have kept him alive for years. Many mornings, he tells his wife he did not get them.

When she talks to him, she said, he sounds weaker and more scared every day, not like the upbeat man who would take her kids out for ice cream.

“You can hear in his voice how he feels,” she said.

Now, she said, he’s considering returning to Cuba, which he fled because of political persecution, out of fear that he will die in detention without his medicines. Amador and her children would go with him, she said, even though she was born in New Jersey, has never been to Cuba, and doesn’t speak much Spanish.

But he’s already collapsed twice at the Baker Correctional Institution in Sanderson, Florida, his wife said. She’s terrified that the next time, he won’t get up.

Methodology

Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News and The Associated Press sifted through thousands of immigration habeas corpus claims to find allegations of medical neglect from people detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement during the second Trump administration.

Without a comprehensive, publicly available dataset of medical complaints by those in ICE custody, we used immigration habeas corpus claims to identify detainees’ healthcare-related allegations raised in federal court. Although the intended purpose of habeas corpus is to challenge the legality of a petitioner’s detention — rather than conditions of their confinement — these filings sometimes include detainees’ claims of inadequate healthcare.

But habeas corpus filings are not always publicly available. Federal rules restrict how members of the public can access habeas petitions filed by people in immigration detention. For most of these cases, court websites publish only court orders and dockets describing other filings. The initial petitions are available only through in-person visits to federal courthouses across the country. Habeas Dockets, a project of the nonprofit Immigration Justice Transparency Initiative, coordinates a nationwide network of volunteers to gather these petitions and make them available online.

Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News and AP analyzed the dockets of roughly 33,000 cases filed by detainees from Jan. 20, 2025, through March 2026. The vast majority of cases had only basic procedural information, like dates of court filings and rulings. Only about 4,400 included the original petitions.

We also gathered a few dozen case files from courthouses, lawyers, and the Massachusetts federal district court website, which posts most petitions under a unique standing order.

We ran keyword and semantic searches of court records, including petitions, motions, and orders, for terms and phrases potentially related to medical neglect, such as surgery, medications, inadequate medical care, and treatment for chronic conditions such as diabetes and high blood pressure.

We found about 500 cases potentially alleging medical neglect. At least two reporters reviewed each case manually, yielding more than 300 cases containing specific allegations in sworn filings of delayed, denied, or deficient healthcare.

To be conservative, we excluded dozens of cases that alleged inadequate medical care but lacked specifics, for example a petitioner writing, “I have been sick and don’t get proper treatment,” or a judge noting a petitioner “complains that ICE is ignoring his medical problems.” We also excluded cases in which petitioners claimed only that they were denied special diets, exercise, or other accommodations that they said were key to managing their health conditions, such as a petitioner writing, “I suffer from Parkinson’s and cannot properly exercise,” or claiming that the food provided was unfit for a person with diabetes.

The cases we analyzed were neither randomly selected nor representative of immigration habeas filings nationwide. The claims were not independently verified. Many filings are not publicly available, and not all detainees raise medical concerns in court, so our account of cases represents a limited window into the landscape of claims, rather than a comprehensive picture.

Associated Press journalists Garance Burke, Valerie Gonzalez, and Tim Sullivan as well as Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News correspondent Kate Wells contributed to this report.

This report is a collaboration between The Associated Press and Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News.

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Lately, however, the community has been trying to stave off a new identity of “prison town” as it fights the opening of what could become the nation’s largest immigration detention center, holding up to 10,000 people.

Walton County, home to this city of about 5,500, voted overwhelmingly for President Donald Trump in 2024. But, as the administration’s mass deportation strategy hits closer to home — with plans moving forward to transform a more than 1 million-square-foot warehouse into a holding pen — locals say the city’s infrastructure just can’t handle such an influx of people.

This month, Social Circle in federal court against U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. The city’s complaint argues that the operation of a detention facility, what it calls a “mega center,” would harm public health, strain the local freshwater and sewage treatment systems, and overburden emergency medical services “due to Social Circle’s modest EMS capacity and DHS’ nebulous plan for emergency transport,” referring to the Department of Homeland Security, which oversees ICE.

“The community is very unified,” City Manager Eric Taylor said. “We want them to go away.”

Social Circle is one of several communities across the country thrust into a charged national debate about the administration’s mass immigrant deportation strategy. On the campaign trail, Trump said migrants were . But local leaders, , advocacy groups, and others in , , , , and claim the administration is doing the same thing by plopping detention centers into communities without the capacity to handle a surge of people.

Last year, Todd Lyons, who is serving as acting director of ICE , described a goal to have the mass deportation operate with the . Deportations would move “like Prime, but with human beings,” he said at a border security expo in Phoenix.

ICE is now putting every person they seek to deport in detention, including those with no criminal records, without the possibility of release on bond. In January, the agency held almost twice as many people as it had that same month in 2024 under President Joe Biden.

However, while many supporters remain aligned with Trump’s immigration stance, some locals fear their city’s stability will be jeopardized. “Social Circle is not exactly flourishing, but it’s making it,” said Gareth Fenley, a retired social worker who ran for state Senate in 2024 as a Democrat and was not among the locals who voted for Trump.

“If Social Circle becomes a prison town,” she said, “we’re gonna lose what we have.”

‘I Thought It Was a Joke’

In February, DHS purchased the 235-acre site in Social Circle for nearly five times its assessed value. It plans to house more people there than at the Rikers Island Correctional Facility in New York City, and nearly triple the number of people now housed at the country’s biggest immigration detention facility, which is in El Paso, Texas.

“I thought it was a joke,” said John Miller, when he first read about the plans last year. He and his wife, Kathlene, have lived in Social Circle for 21 years. When they bump into neighbors, Kathlene knows their children’s names, and John can cite the kids’ baseball stats. Their 50-acre horse farm is less than a mile from the elementary school, and right across the street from the detention center site.

The Millers support Trump’s stance on immigration but feel that turning the vacant warehouse into a detention center would re-create the very problems his administration is trying to solve. Whether people are concentrated in a detention center or out in the public, “they’re still there,” John Miller said.

DHS estimates that the facility would require about 1 million gallons of water daily, according to the city’s suit, which alleges that volume would bleed residents’ taps dry and contaminate local streams with sewage. Emergency medical calls from the detention center, the lawsuit claims, would overwhelm the city’s first responders, which Taylor said clock in at 14 firefighters, 15 police officers, and two school resource officers. The city relies on Walton County for ambulance services.

Additionally, Social Circle would live under an ever-present threat of a major disease outbreak, the lawsuit said, adding that the federal government didn’t conduct the needed environmental reviews or solicit community input beforehand.

Taylor said federal officials had only one meeting with local leaders and brushed off concerns about water, sewage, and emergency care, which administration officials said the site wouldn’t need to use. “I don’t buy that,” Taylor said. “And that’s the problem.”

Supercharging Health Concerns

Current DHS Secretary Markwayne Mullin has said he is reviewing , Kristi Noem, to transform warehouses like this one into detention facilities. And the department’s whether the federal government overpaid for some of the buildings. Mullin also said officials are reviewing agency policies and working with community leaders. “We want to be good partners,” said Lauren Bis, a DHS spokesperson.

Still, the administration’s swift escalation of immigrant detention has exacerbated long-standing allegations of medical neglect for those in custody across the country and led to the in at least two decades.

Three detention facilities in Folkston, Georgia, about an hour north of Jacksonville, Florida, issued 130 emergency calls from Feb. 4, 2025, to Feb. 3, 2026, according to dispatch reports obtained by Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News through a public records request. The calls from the facilities, which hold about 2,000 people, were for wide-ranging reasons, including anaphylaxis, assaults, suicide attempts, overdoses, seizures, strokes, head injuries from falls, and other health issues.

GEO Group, ICE’s largest contractor, which runs the Folkston facility, provides “around-the-clock access to medical care” and relies on emergency medical services as needed, said Christopher Ferreira, director of corporate relations.

ERO El Paso Camp East Montana, built on a Texas military base, is currently the nation’s largest detention center and holds about 2,500 people. In the five months from Aug. 17, 2025, to Jan. 20, 2026, about 130 emergency medical calls were made from the site, according to city records. Several detainees have died at the facility; several others have for tuberculosis, measles, or covid-19.

Amentum Services, which recently took over management of the facility, did not respond to questions about emergency calls.

Even bigger detention facilities, such as the “mega center” planned in Social Circle, would only supercharge those health issues and bring them to new communities, said , who was immigration ombudsman at the Department of Homeland Security under Biden. Existing facilities already suffer from staffing shortages, poor ventilation and hygiene, and insufficient medical care, she said.

The proposed facilities are enormous and generally built for boxes, not people, she said. “There’s no way, without extreme cost, both to the community and just in dollars, to make these safe for humans,” she said.

In the meantime, people such as Kathlene Miller said they feel that Social Circle has become “collateral damage” in the larger debate over immigration. “We’re like the children in a divorce,” she said.

But Social Circle may face an uphill battle. Taylor said Walton County leaders and the state of Georgia have been silent on the center.

“They say it’s federal issues, that they have no jurisdiction,” he said. “They don’t have any interest in helping us.”

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The certified professional midwife pressed the button on a handheld Doppler ultrasound machine she placed on Collins’ belly. “That’s her heartbeat,” she said to Collins’ 3-year-old daughter, who sat beside her mom as a whooshing sound filled the room. “I think Mommy’s baby’s right here.”

The midwife is not licensed as a nurse. In Georgia, that makes what she’s doing illegal. Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News agreed not to identify her by name.

Georgia is one of seven states where delivering babies can earn non-nurse midwives, at minimum, a cease-and-desist letter requiring them to end their careers. In North Carolina, it’s a . In New York, .

Meanwhile, demand for their services is increasing. Intended home births rose by 42% nationally from 2020 to 2024, according to the National Center for Health Statistics, and those births are often overseen by certified professional midwives. In Georgia, they rose by 72%. Midwives who assist with home births typically see clients from prenatal appointments through after childbirth, providing more postpartum checkups than most new mothers receive.

Home births make up nationwide. In the eight states where they were most common in 2024 — Hawai‘i, Idaho, Montana, Pennsylvania, Utah, Vermont, Wisconsin, and Wyoming— they made up 3-5% of births.

As that number rises, midwifery advocates said, regulating the practice with licenses would allow home births to be safer. Free birth — without the help of a skilled professional before or after labor — can be .

“People are going to keep having their babies at home, and they deserve a trained provider,” said Missi Burgess, president of the Georgia chapter of the National Association of Certified Professional Midwives.

For decades, professional midwives have been advocating for laws to legalize and regulate their profession. More lawmakers have supported those efforts in the past 15 years, with 36 states and Washington, D.C., allowing them to get licensed to deliver babies. Last year, a wave of state lawmakers — in Georgia, Mississippi, Nebraska, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, and West Virginia — tried to add their states to the list, although none of their bills has become law.

Certified professional midwives deliver babies in homes or birth centers. Rather than attend nursing school — which many can’t afford — they earn a nationally recognized certificate by attending at least 55 births and demonstrating their knowledge. Nurse-midwives more often deliver babies in hospitals or clinics than in patients’ homes.

Some hospitals and doctors oppose midwife licensing proposals without certain guardrails. The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists showing that infants are twice as likely to die during planned births at home or in birth centers as in hospitals, while acknowledging that the data remains limited. It doesn’t account for several factors, including who assisted in the birth.

Still, prominent stories of home births with midwives gone wrong contribute to the skepticism around licensing laws. In 2023, The Washington Post of a licensed midwife who pleaded guilty to felonies in Virginia after an infant death and assisted with home births in Maryland in which two more babies died.

In Mississippi, a bill that would have regulated and licensed professional midwives died after a state senator blocked a vote in the committee he chaired. Democratic Sen. Hob Bryan he didn’t “wish to encourage that activity.”

But midwives said they have a sympathetic ear now in the Trump administration, with its Make America Healthy Again movement. Cassaundra Jah, executive director of the , said she has been on calls with midwifery groups pushing for the Department of Health and Human Services to provide legal protections for them, and some midwives have been in contact with the agency.

HHS spokesperson Emily Hilliard declined to comment on policy proposals but told Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News that the administration “regularly meets with a wide range of stakeholders to hear input from the American public.”

Hospitals Want Guardrails

Advocates for the license say allowing certified professional midwives to provide care would help address a shortage of maternity care providers.

“Some midwives are leaving our state,” Rep. , a chiropractor who sponsored the Georgia bill, said during a hearing on the measure last year. “They’re being forced to quit. And now we have a shortage of these providers to take care of our pregnant moms.”

A by the March of Dimes found that 35% of counties in the U.S. have no birthing facility or obstetric provider. Georgia has the 13th-highest maternal mortality rate in the nation, according to the .

After the U.S. Supreme Court’s reversal of Roe v. Wade in 2022 eliminated federal protection for abortion, six-week abortion bans prompted more providers to leave states such as Georgia and Texas. Idaho lost by December 2024, two years after its abortion ban took effect. Doctors who left states with such laws cited fear of prosecution and an inability to provide the standard of care.

Of the 13 states with the fewest maternity care providers per capita, nine had a full or six-week abortion ban as of 2024, .

Licensing midwives won’t solve the larger maternity care shortage, but it’s a first step, said , a professor of midwifery and the principal investigator at the Birth Place Lab at the University of British Columbia. Certified professional midwives currently attend only about 1.4% of births in the U.S., according to federal data.

The would have granted certified professional midwives licenses through a state board, allowed them to administer lifesaving medications, and required their services to be covered by private insurance and Medicaid. They would not have needed a physician to supervise them. Without that mandate, giving birth outside of a hospital could be an option for more people.

But the Georgia Department of Public Health and the Georgia Hospital Association opposed the licensing bill, primarily because they wanted more regulations than the midwives were willing to accept — including physician supervision.

Anna Adams, a spokesperson for the hospital association, suggested establishing transfer agreements that required all women planning to have a home birth to register at the hospital first. When a laboring woman is transferred to a hospital, which happens in about , “we have no prior knowledge of this patient,” Adams said. “It’s a tricky situation to inherit when you’re trying to save the mother and the baby without any background.”

Georgia midwives said they planned to bring the licensing proposal back next year.

In early April, three midwives for restricting their ability to practice, arguing that the rules violate the state constitution.

“Every pregnant person should be able to choose where they give birth and with whom,” said Jamarah Amani, a plaintiff in the lawsuit and co-founder of the .

Black women are three times as likely to die during or after childbirth as white pregnant patients. In January, a prominent Black nurse-midwife in South Carolina died after unexpected complications from childbirth.

Today, midwives and their clients are predominantly white, but the home birth rate among Black women rose 42% nationally from 2019 to 2024, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

“Ultimately the system has failed us as a people,” said Tina Braimah, a Black nurse-midwife who attended home births for a decade. She then opened a in North Carolina, allowing her to see more clients from a variety of backgrounds. “When the system consistently fails you, you look for other options.”

Becoming Part of the System

Many maternal health researchers say mothers fare better when midwives are a key part of the health system. In 2018, researchers at the Birth Place Lab published a study of all 50 states showing that integrating midwives was associated with better outcomes for moms and babies, including lower rates of infant deaths. Integration involves collaboration among all kinds of midwives and doctors so that patients can easily transfer to or from a hospital. It also involves giving all midwives the authority to practice the full range of their skills, including prescribing lifesaving medication.

A by the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine states that data from other countries suggests home births can be as safe as hospital births for low-risk women who are part of an integrated, regulated system.

Washington state has one of the highest rates of in the U.S., according to the . Its home birth rate is consistently higher than the national rate, while its remains lower than the national average.

One in 5 women report being mistreated during maternity care, according to a . Pregnant patients tend to be more satisfied when midwives lead their care, whether at a hospital, a birth center, or home.

Hannah Haynes gave birth to her first three children in a hospital near her home in Jefferson, Georgia. During the third labor, which was induced, she received a catheter that led to a urinary tract infection and then sepsis, a life-threatening condition. She was separated from her newborn for four days while receiving treatment.

“Something has to change,” Haynes said.

Haynes regrets electing to get induced when it wasn’t medically necessary. She gave birth to her fourth child at home, with the help of a certified professional midwife she trusted. She’s pregnant with her fifth and plans to use the same midwife. She said she won’t deliver at a hospital again.

“I was a little nervous,” Haynes said, because she had heard rumors that midwives didn’t know what they were doing. But after meeting the midwife, “I just felt so confident in her.”

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North Carolina, in late April, became the latest member of a growing group of Republican-led states to require their public health agencies to flag recipients of Medicaid to the U.S. Department of Homeland Security if their legal status is in question.

It’s a trend health policy researchers expect to spread among GOP-controlled states eager to join Trump in the federal crackdown on Medicaid fraud and illegal immigration. Already, at least four states — , , , and — have passed similar laws, and lawmakers in others, such as and , are weighing measures. In those six states, Republicans hold a power trifecta — both chambers of the legislature and the governor’s office.

“This is an issue that is very much on the political radar right now,” said , a health policy researcher at Harvard Law School.

More than 75 million people , the federal and state-run public health program for people with disabilities and low incomes, or its related Children’s Health Insurance Program, which provides low-cost coverage for people under 19. Immigrants without legal status are ineligible for Medicaid benefits, but a swath of noncitizens qualify, such as green-card holders, asylees, and refugees. A quarter of children in the U.S., most of them citizens, live with an immigrant.

Yet the new reporting laws add a layer of risk for immigrants seeking healthcare in the U.S., where the the use of to help identify and deport people.

Some of the state laws apply only to health agencies, such as in North Carolina. But the bill headed to Tennessee Gov. Bill Lee’s desk , requiring all state agencies to report people suspected of being in the U.S. without legal status. All seven state measures go beyond what’s federally required, which is to cooperate with enforcement officers by providing personal information of recipients when asked.

In Louisiana, families with mixed immigration statuses have reported that the state’s new law, enacted last year, for their kids with U.S. citizenship.

“I expect this law will lead to more families asking whether it is safe to seek healthcare, whether information can be shared with immigration authorities, and whether enrolling a child or seeking treatment could expose them to enforcement consequences,” said , a North Carolina immigration attorney.

North Carolina Republican lawmakers inserted their mandate for the state’s health department as part of a in Medicaid funds, which the legislature cut when it failed to pass a budget last year.

Starting in October, state employees will ask non-U.S. citizens receiving Medicaid for proof of their immigration standing and report those without “satisfactory” legal status to federal authorities. “This bill is designed not only to fund our critical needs today, but to begin looking at fraud, abuse issues we know exist within the system,” Republican state Rep. Donny Lambeth said during a House debate on the bill.

Immigrants than people born in the U.S., according to an analysis by the Cato Institute, a libertarian think tank, which also found noncitizens are much less likely to than citizens. State health agencies are already required to verify whether applicants’ immigration statuses .

Several Republican leaders responsible for the bill did not respond to requests for comment. North Carolina Department of Health and Human Services spokesperson Hannah Jones said the agency is still trying to understand the impact of the new law.

, about half of adults who “likely” lack legal status said someone in their family has avoided seeking medical care because they were concerned their information could draw the attention of immigration enforcement.

, a North Carolina discrimination attorney, said immigrants “in process,” or those waiting for legal authorization, generally already fear using government assistance for themselves.

“What I’ve learned from handling thousands of cases over the years is that most of the individuals who are in process pay for their own medical treatment out-of-pocket,” Rosa said.

Such policies essentially force children who are U.S. citizens to go without health coverage or hospital care, said , a researcher at Georgetown University’s Center for Children and Families.

“When you do policies that target an immigrant, you may think that you are just targeting this one person in the family, but it’s a really imprecise bomb that takes out the whole household,” Cuello said.

The use of states’ public health agencies to find immigrants who lack legal status is not the only strategy states have deployed. Some have passed laws looking to hospitals to collect and report such information. A 2023 Florida law that requires hospital staff to ask about patients’ immigration status has made noncitizens hesitant to seek care, separated families, and caused psychological distress, by the University of South Florida. Texas Gov. Greg Abbott, a Republican, issued an executive order similar to Florida’s law in 2024.

Democratic states have pushed back against Trump administration policies that mine private medical information to target immigrants, with 21 signing on to a filed last year that attempts to prevent DHS from . recipients’ identities could be shared, but medical information could not. Litigation is ongoing.

DHS did not respond to a request for comment on the record.

After he signed the bill into law, North Carolina’s Democratic governor, Josh Stein, urging Republican lawmakers to protect Medicaid coverage for nearly 27,000 pregnant women and children who are lawfully present in the country. He did not respond to questions about the provision that requires the state to report immigrants without legal status.

Polanco-Galdamez said such laws have further eroded trust in healthcare systems among underserved families.

“At the end of the day, public health systems function best when people feel safe seeking medical care,” Polanco-Galdamez said. “Policies that blur the line between healthcare access and immigration enforcement risk pushing vulnerable families further into the shadows.”

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The sweeping 195-page , published May 4, advocates for making access to treatment easier than getting drugs, preventing young people from developing addictions in the first place, increasing support for people in recovery, and reducing overdose deaths.

Those broad goals are widely supported by public health researchers, addiction treatment clinicians, and recovery advocates.

But accomplishing such goals will be difficult in the face of the administration’s , and community grants, that serve people who use drugs, and , the state-federal health insurance program for low-income people that is the largest payer for addiction and mental health care nationwide.

Many components of the National Drug Control Strategy are “things that we would agree with and that we fully support,” said , who leads overdose prevention efforts at the Global Health Advocacy Incubator, a public health advocacy group.

But there are “disconnects in what the strategy says is important and then what they’re actually going to fund,” she said of the Trump administration. “Those inconsistencies feel particularly loud in this strategy.”

The White House’s National Drug Control Strategy, released , is a touchstone document meant to lay out the federal government’s coordinated approach to what in recent decades has been one of the country’s defining problems.

Since 2000, have died of drug overdoses. Although deaths have , the numbers remain elevated compared with earlier decades, and overdose death rates among Black Americans and Native Americans are disproportionately high.

The strategy document published this week is the first of President Donald Trump’s current term. In keeping with the administration’s approach to addiction issues, it places heavy emphasis on law enforcement efforts to reduce the supply of illicit drugs. The document repeatedly refers to the ongoing “war” against “foreign terrorist organizations” — the Trump administration’s term for drug cartels — and touts increased enforcement at U.S. borders.

It also to implement artificial intelligence technologies to screen for illicit drugs brought into the country and wastewater testing to detect illegal drug use nationwide.

The second half of the strategy focuses on reducing the demand for drugs through public health prevention efforts, addiction treatment, and support for people in recovery. It promotes the role of religion in recovery and calls for the widespread use of overdose reversal medications, such as naloxone.

In a news release, the White House’s Office of National Drug Control Policy called the document a “roadmap” that will “continue dismantling the drug supply and defeating the scourge of illicit drugs in our country.”

The Trump administration did not respond to requests for comment about how the strategy aligns with its other actions.

In December, Trump signed a , which continues several grants related to treatment and recovery and the requirement for Medicaid to cover all FDA-approved medications for opioid use disorder. In January, he announced the , including a to address homelessness, opioid addiction, and public safety.

However, few details have been provided about the initiative, and in January, about a month after the SUPPORT Act passed, billions of dollars in addiction-related grants were abruptly within a frantic 24-hour period.

That “whiplash” left “a sense of instability and uncertainty in the field,” said , a national adviser with the Manatt Health consultancy. She led substance use treatment policy at the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, or SAMHSA, under the Biden administration and left about six months into Trump’s second term.

That insecurity was exacerbated by the , which proposes cuts to several addiction and mental health programs and the consolidation of key federal agencies working on those matters. Jones’ group and nearly 100 others in the field have asking Congress to reject the proposals, as it did with similar requests last year.

The national drug strategy adds new, potentially contradictory information to this confusing landscape.

Increasing Access to Treatment

One of the most significant public health goals in the strategy, mentioned at least half a dozen times, is to make it easier to get treatment than it is to buy illegal drugs.

National data underscores the necessity: More than who need substance use treatment don’t receive it.

The administration’s actions on health insurance may make it difficult to improve that statistic.

Medicaid is the for adults with opioid use disorder. When implemented, the Medicaid work requirements in Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act are projected to strip that coverage from with substance use disorders.

The last time Medicaid rolls were purged — after — many people who had been receiving medication treatment for opioid addiction stopped it and fewer people started treatment, according to a .

Olsen, who is also an addiction medicine doctor, said she loves the strategy’s emphasis on making treatment readily available to anyone who wants it. But she said that’s “hard to really imagine when now people may have to pay for it themselves because they may be losing their Medicaid insurance coverage.”

the upcoming Medicaid changes could lead 156,000 people to lose access to medications for opioid use disorder and result in more than 1,000 additional fatal overdoses per year.

People with private insurance may be affected, too.

The Trump administration has Biden-era regulations aimed at bolstering mental health parity, the idea that insurers must cover mental illness and addiction treatment comparably to physical treatments. And recently, the administration said it would altogether, raising fears that addiction treatment could become increasingly unaffordable.

The administration did not respond to specific questions about how it reconciles its actions on Medicaid and parity with the goal of increasing treatment.

Prioritizing Prevention

The strategy highlights preventing addictions before they begin as one of the keys to reducing demand for drugs. It calls for “promoting a drug-free America as the social norm” and implementing school and community-based programs that are backed by science.

“Investing in primary prevention, before drug use starts, saves lives and resources,” it says, citing about of such programs.

Yet, the president’s budget proposes cuts to these types of programs, and federal layoffs have decimated the agencies that would implement such work.

The White House’s proposes cutting roughly $220 million from SAMHSA’s and nearly $40 million from the program.

Since the new administration started, SAMHSA has , and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is . 

“It’s not clear to me that they’re really going to be able to have the funds or the people to be able to carry that out,” Olsen said of the strategy’s prevention goals.

Another wrinkle appears in the strategy’s discussion of marijuana. The document points to marijuana use as one of the drivers of increasing drug use disorders and reports that “convergent evidence from multiple sources” suggests cannabis use increases the risk of psychosis. It calls for developing new tools to treat marijuana withdrawal and addiction.

However, just two weeks ago, the White House medical marijuana to a lower tier of scheduled substances and is moving to to do the same for marijuana broadly.

“The administration, on the one hand, is moving in a direction of liberalizing access to cannabis,” Jones said, “but at the same time, in the strategy, it talks about the dangers of doing so.”

“There’s a disconnect there that just makes you question: Which one do you believe?” she added.

The administration did not respond to specific questions about its marijuana policies.

Stopping Overdose Deaths

One of the more surprising elements of the National Drug Control Strategy comes in the last paragraph of the final chapter. It focuses on public drug-checking programs, which often involve using test strips to help people who use drugs determine whether there are more-dangerous substances, such as fentanyl or xylazine, in the batch they bought. That helps them determine whether or how to safely use those drugs.

“Rapid test strips and similar technologies that detect fentanyl and other drugs are an important tool that should be legal,” the strategy document says.

However, SAMHSA announced in that it would no longer pay for test strips, as part of the Trump administration’s “clear shift away from harm reduction and practices that facilitate illicit drug use.”

The administration has similarly attacked harm reduction programs in an and its budget . It did not respond to specific questions about how this position interacts with the drug control strategy.

, a Georgetown University professor who served as acting director of the Office of National Drug Control Policy during the Biden administration, wrote about the contradiction in : “It is the height of rhetoric over reality to champion a tool while simultaneously cutting off the funding used to acquire it.”

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The 152-bed hospital, which sits on a sprawling medical campus close to the predominantly Latino and Black neighborhood of Watts, is struggling for financial stability. Its patients are poorer and sicker than average, many of them are uninsured, and three-quarters of MLK’s patient care revenue comes from Medi-Cal, the state’s version of the Medicaid program, which pays low rates. For hospitals statewide, by comparison, less than one-third of patient revenue comes from Medi-Cal.

And MLK Community Healthcare, which comprises the hospital and two nearby clinics, is independent, so it cannot fall back on a larger chain to absorb some of the financial pressure.  

Similar problems plague hospitals around the country, in rural and urban areas. And their financial woes are about to get worse.

The Republican budget measure known as the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, signed into law by President Donald Trump last July, is expected to cut federal Medicaid spending by $911 billion over 10 years. And it could contribute to an increase of in the number of uninsured people, many of whom will go to already crowded emergency rooms to get care they can’t pay for.

The law does include a special fund to boost rural healthcare, totaling $50 billion over five years. But that’s far less than it is expected to cut from rural health spending over the next decade. And the rural health fund does little or nothing to help the numerous that also face serious financial troubles.

MLK, like many other hospitals, is scrambling to secure outside financing to avert serious disruptions of medical services when the brunt of the policies contained in the federal law begins to hit early next year. The hospital’s leadership team projects a revenue hole of $80 million to $100 million annually for the foreseeable future. It would be MLK’s largest budget gap since it opened in 2015.

“Even if we cut services that our community needs — maternity care, behavioral healthcare, diabetes management — it wouldn’t make a significant dent in the gap we’re facing,” said Elaine Batchlor, the CEO of MLK Community Healthcare. ”Many of those same people would still come to us through our emergency department, only they’d be in worse shape and might need more expensive care.”

Across the U.S., hospitals and patient advocates are looking to state lawmakers and local officials to help shore up shaky finances. In California, Assembly member Esmeralda Soria, a Democrat representing Fresno, is to expand a 2023 “distressed hospital loan fund” that allocated nearly $300 million in zero-interest loans to in the state, including $14 million to MLK. The state would pony up another $300 million under Soria’s bill.

At least two other states are weighing similar programs. A would create a $100 million “distressed hospital grant” program. And a funding bill for the Illinois Department of Healthcare and Family Services contains a provision to create for troubled hospitals.

Carmela Coyle, the CEO of the California Hospital Association, said the original $300 million disbursed by the state legislature helped but was not enough.

“This program is focused on those who are standing on the edge of that financial cliff, and it’s intended to give them a little space, brush them a little bit back from the edge,” Coyle said. “But we’ve got many more hospitals that are taking giant leaps toward the edge of that cliff every day.”

Despite the association’s influence, an expansion of the loan program is far from certain, given fiscal constraints that have already induced state leaders to roll back California’s ambitious healthcare agenda, with restrictions on coverage for immigrants and funding cuts for community clinics. Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom recently warned lawmakers to expect more cuts in his revised May budget — and that’s before the main federal spending reductions kick in.

“This is a very difficult budget environment,” said Kristof Stremikis, director of market analysis and insight at the California Health Care Foundation, a nonprofit that advocates for healthcare improvement. “It is hard to come up with funding for new programs and even existing programs right now.”

Some lawmakers noted skeptically that the initial loans are now on their way to at which is allowed under existing law. Soria’s bill spells out a clearer path to loan forgiveness.

“Are these loans or are these grants? Because they seem to be turning, really, into grants,” Assembly member Pilar Schiavo, a Democrat in Santa Clarita, said during an April 21 hearing on the bill.

Ultimately, it might not be desirable to save struggling institutions by pouring dollars into them, because care is increasingly offered outside of hospitals, Stremikis said.

In the short term, though, the financial health of hospitals that received loans appears to have improved, according to a Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News analysis of state data. The average operating margin of the 15 loan recipients for which comparable data is available shifted from a loss of 15.4% the year before the program to a gain of 2.3% after the money was disbursed.

It is unclear how much of the improvement can be attributed to the loans. Hospitals also secured other sources of funding, and they adopted efficiencies as a condition for the interest-free money.

MLK reduced the use of high-cost temporary labor by hiring more permanent staff, cut the average length of patient hospital stays to decrease staffing hours, streamlined billing, and negotiated more-favorable contracts with insurers, said Atul Nakhasi, a practicing physician who is also MLK’s vice president of government affairs and community relations. Batchlor said that the loan helped MLK get through a cash flow crunch and that a second loan, if it became available, would be used for the same purpose.

This summer, MLK expects to open a psychiatric assessment unit, where patients in mental distress can be stabilized in an environment replete with plush reclining chairs and “calming” rooms. Hospital executives hope the new unit will provide a significant new source of revenue, while taking pressure off the emergency department.

in Visalia, California, suspended some services, temporarily stopped contributing to employees’ retirement, and briefly froze wages in exchange for a loan of just under $21 million, said the organization’s CEO, Marc Mertz.

Madera Community Hospital got a $57 million loan — the largest disbursement from the state fund — to reopen after being shuttered for more than two years. The hospital reopened early last year, but it has not yet stabilized financially, said Matthew Beehler, the chief strategy officer at American Advanced Management, a privately held company that bought Madera out of bankruptcy.

“You can definitely say the hospital would not have been opened without the distressed hospital loan,” though the company has also invested more than $50 million, Beehler said. He said Madera would hope for another loan if the program were extended.

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Two bills moving through the state Senate seek to prevent immigration enforcement officers from isolating patients from their loved ones and interfering with their ability to get legal help. Analyses for both bills cite reporting by Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News that found family members and attorneys have faced extreme difficulty locating and supporting patients hospitalized while in immigration custody.

Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News found that some hospitals have facilitated patient isolation through what are known as blackout policies, which can include registering people under pseudonyms, withholding their names from the hospital directory, and preventing staff from contacting patients’ relatives to let them know their location and condition.

A bill by Democratic state Sen. Caroline Menjivar of the San Fernando Valley, , would largely prohibit the use of blackout policies for patients in immigration custody and ensure they retain the right to have their families and others notified of their whereabouts and condition. Blackout policies would be allowed when the health care provider determines the patient is a credible risk to themself or others and the risk is documented in the patient’s medical record. Patients would also be allowed to receive visitors.

It seeks to address reports of Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents guarding patients in their hospital rooms while they undergo medical exams or talk with doctors, interfering with medical decisions, and pushing for patients to be discharged prematurely to detention facilities ill-equipped to provide follow-up care.

“These are actions that have no place in health care, and it is a clear violation of the patients’ rights,” Menjivar said.

Under Menjivar’s proposal, agents would not be allowed into the rooms of patients they bring in for care unless they can show legal authorization to be there. If agents remain in the room, staff would be required to ask them to leave during medical exams and patient care discussions. If agents refuse, health care facility staff would need to document it.

, authored by state Sen. Susan Rubio, a Democrat from the San Gabriel Valley, would require health care providers to inform staff and relevant volunteers to respond when patients want their families to know where they are, and to post a notice at facility entrances with information about visitation and access policies. The law already says patients can agree to have loved ones notified they’re in the hospital, and Rubio’s bill seeks to make sure staff and others know they can do that for patients in immigration custody.

The federal Department of Homeland Security, which oversees immigration enforcement, did not respond to a request for comment.

Both bills were passed by the Senate Health and Judiciary committees along party lines and will be heard next by the Senate Appropriations Committee.

More than 20 immigrant rights advocates and health care workers voiced support for strengthened protections for patients at a hearing last week.

“This state must do everything in its power to protect against these abuses and ensure detainees have the right to contact their loved ones when they are hospitalized and in critical conditions,” said Hector Pereyra, political manager with the Inland Coalition for Immigrant Justice.

However, representatives from the California Hospital Association and California Medical Association told lawmakers last week they had concerns that directing health care workers to document agents’ badge numbers and ask them to leave patients’ rooms could create conflict and pose a safety risk.

“While we understand that this is an important issue, we want to ensure the bill strikes the right balance and does not create conflicting or unclear obligations for hospitals and their staff and clinicians, particularly in real-time interactions with federal officers,” said Vanessa Gonzalez, a vice president of state advocacy for the hospital association.

Ñî¹óåú´«Ã½Ò•îl Health News reported that one man, 43-year-old Julio César Peña, was held at a hospital in Victorville for almost two weeks before his attorney and family found out where he was. Peña, who had terminal kidney disease, was shackled to his hospital bed, guarded by immigration agents, and told he wasn’t allowed to disclose his location, according to his wife. He then suffered a seizure that left him intubated and unconscious, but no one notified his family. Peña died Feb. 25, less than two months after he was released to go home.

Advocates for immigrants and health care workers, as well as lawmakers, fear similar incidents are happening around the state.

Menjivar said her bill “seeks to close the gap between existing law and practice by empowering health care provider entities with the tools to uphold the privacy, health, and visitation rights of a patient brought in under immigration custody.”

SB 915 would prohibit hospitals and clinics from allowing immigration officers to make medical decisions for the patient or provide interpretation. Health care facilities would be required to document and verify, “to the extent possible,” the identities of immigration officers; provide patients access to communication tools; and inform patients of their rights. They would also need to complete discharge planning that includes attempts to coordinate with any receiving facility, such as a detention center, to ensure patients receive follow-up care.

The bills come on the heels of legislation passed last year that sought to limit immigration enforcement at health care facilities, including by prohibiting medical establishments from allowing federal agents without a valid search warrant or court order into private areas. However, that bill did not address situations in which patients are already in immigration custody.

“ICE has instilled fear in our hospitals and has kept us from doing our job,” said SatKartar Khalsa, an emergency medicine resident at a safety net hospital in San Francisco who has treated detained patients and testified in support of SB 915. “This has all led to worse care for our patients and has added another layer of fear among health care workers.”

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