Inside Detention Walls: What They Never Tell You
Most people imagine that doing a psychological evaluation means sitting across from a client in a calm office with comfortable chairs, a desk, maybe even a tissue box within arm’s reach.
That’s not the reality inside an immigration detention center.
When you go behind those locked gates, everything changes.
The clanging of heavy doors, the cold air, the fluorescent lights — these aren’t just details. They set the stage for what becomes one of the most complex and meaningful parts of our work as immigration evaluators.
Walking In: Not What You’d Expect
People in detention centers are not necessarily criminals. In fact, many are asylum seekers or individuals facing removal proceedings who need evaluations as part of their defense. Yet the environment they’re held in is one of surveillance, restriction, and waiting.
As a mental health provider, the first step is not the interview. It’s calling ahead to the detention center to ask what paperwork they require. Court order? Letter from the attorney? Security clearance? Every facility has its own rules. And yes, they really might deny you entry because your sweater is the same color as inmate uniforms.
That lesson I learned the hard way.
Inside the Evaluation Room
When you finally get to sit with your client, you’re not in a comfortable office. You’re in what’s called a contact room — a small, bare space with just a table and two chairs. Sometimes, you’re lucky to have this setup. Other times, you may be separated by glass and a phone line.
No phones are allowed. Internet access is nonexistent. If you bring a laptop, it’s often just a glorified typewriter in that moment.
And yet, despite all the barriers, the work itself is profound. These evaluations are not only about documenting symptoms. They’re about giving voice to someone whose environment is designed to silence them.
The Human Side of Detention
Clients often arrive anxious, exhausted, and overwhelmed. The detention setting intensifies every emotion. A simple question about their history can unlock tears, memories, or even silence as they process the weight of their situation.
That’s why I always bring tissues. It may sound small, but in those moments, it’s essential.
Another thing I’ve learned? Dress in layers. Rooms can be freezing or unbearably warm, and you don’t get to adjust the thermostat. You adapt — just like you adapt to the delays, the security checks, and the sudden interruptions for drills or inmate counts.
Why This Work Matters
Conducting evaluations in detention is not glamorous. It takes patience, preparation, and flexibility. But it’s also some of the most meaningful work I’ve done.
Because each evaluation isn’t just about an individual. It’s about their family, their children, and their future in this country.
And while the setting may be restrictive, our role as evaluators is to open space — to listen, to document, and to ensure that their psychological reality is not ignored in the legal process.
🎙️ Listen to the full story on my podcast episode:
Behind the Gates: A Clinician’s Guide to Immigration Evaluations in Detention Centers
🎧 Apple Podcasts 🎧 Spotify 🎧 YouTube
