ICE Ditches Charity Work for the Undocumented, Cites “Too Much Moolah, Too Little Maracas”

Washington, D.C. – In a move that could only be described as “cutting the apron strings,” Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) has decided to hang up its social services hat and focus on what it does best: playing the role of the stern parent in the U.S. immigration drama. Two programs, which were essentially handing out free hugs and cookies to undocumented immigrants, have been shown the door. One program, the Wraparound Stabilization Service (WSS), was about as effective as giving a fish a bicycle, with only a 2% improvement in compliance for a price tag that could probably fund a small nation’s space program. “Why spend all this cash when the return is as small as a thimble’s echo in the Grand Canyon?” an ICE spokesperson reportedly mused while throwing wads of cash into a shredder.

The WSS, which kicked off in 2020 with NGOs promising to sprinkle some psychosocial and behavioral health magic, ended up more like a magic trick where the rabbit and the hat both disappear – along with your wallet. “It’s not aligning with our mission,” said the agency, which seems to be code for “we’d rather use this money to buy more beds or perhaps a giant GPS locator for the entire country.”

Meanwhile, the Young Adult Case Management (YACMP) program, which was all about giving young migrants legal advice, screenings, and a pat on the back, also got the axe. It was like a high school guidance counselor but for crossing borders. “We’ve decided to realign our priorities,” which is bureaucratese for “we’re cutting the fluff because we’re running out of fluff money.”

ICE pointed out that their Alternatives to Detention (ATD) program, where they essentially play nanny with an app or a GPS bracelet, has been somewhat successful. They’re tracking people like they’re watching a marathon where everyone’s running in different directions. With a 98.6% court appearance rate, you could say it’s more popular than the latest superhero movie among those who are required to show up.

But it’s not all fun and games; the program has had its share of naughty participants. In FY 2024, the stats read like a crime novel: from sex offenses to homicides, it seems some were using their freedom to star in their own personal crime sagas.

As the Trump administration prepares to take the stage again, whispers of massive deportations akin to a “historic” sweep are in the air. Conservatives are jumping up and down, demanding that ICE should be a law enforcement agency, not a “charity for those who crossed the border on a whim.” Lora Ries from The Heritage Foundation, in a tone that could curdle milk, declared these services “a boondoggle,” suggesting that the funds should be used for more “deportations than dishes served at a Thanksgiving dinner.”

In a nutshell, ICE is tightening its belt, focusing on its mission to keep the U.S. as a place where only legal entries are celebrated, much like a bouncer at an exclusive club. The message? If you’re not here legally, don’t expect a red carpet or even a welcome mat. Just a one-way ticket back to where you came from, courtesy of Uncle Sam’s not-so-magic school bus.