poor

Pointe-Noire and Brazzaville, Republic of Congo – In Pointe-Noire, the economic capital of the Republic of Congo, the aisles of the Grand Marche come alive in the early hours of the morning. Among the market stalls, street vendors, and shoppers pushing their way through the crowd, Romain Tchicaya is selling medicines on the sly.

As the price of basics – including pharmaceutical products – rises, and people turn to more affordable unregulated options, merchants like Tchicaya step in to fill the gap while trying to earn a living in a struggling economy.

However, the 37-year-old’s background is far from typical for a street vendor.

With a degree in management, he thought he would find a stable job after graduating from university. But like many young Congolese, he found himself facing a tight job market with few opportunities.

“We are told that the country is rich in oil. But I don’t see that wealth in my daily life,” he told Al Jazeera. “Look at Pointe-Noire, formerly nicknamed as Ponton la Belle [Beautiful Pointe-Noire]. Today, the city is unrecognisable.”

Around the Grand Marche, the main roads are potholed, and when it rains, the streets get flooded, making it almost impossible to drive.

Like Tchicaya, Brice Makaya, in his 40s, has never managed to find a stable job here despite having a degree in computer science.

With no stable employment, he is unable to rent a house and now lives outside the church where he prays.

“I am still underhoused at my age and have no prospects for the future,” he told Al Jazeera. “Without a job, I can’t plan ahead. I’m just trying to survive.”

For many young Congolese, daily life is a paradox: though they live in a resource-rich country – the third largest oil producer in sub-Saharan Africa and a producer of liquefied natural gas (LNG) – nearly half the population live below the poverty line.

This Sunday, Congo goes to the polls in which President Denis Sassou Nguesso, 82, is again seeking another term. For young voters, jobs and the economy are a big concern. But for the government, there appear to be limitations to what is possible.

During one of his speeches in the election campaign, Nguesso pointed out that the civil service could not absorb all job seekers, and urged young people to take charge of their own futures by encouraging self-employment.

Oil: ‘Fuel of the political system’

According to the World Bank, oil accounts for about 70 percent of Congo’s exports and nearly 40 percent of its gross domestic product (GDP).

But this wealth does not automatically translate into an improvement in living standards for most of the populace.

The World Bank estimates that more than 40 percent of Congolese people live below the poverty line, despite the country’s significant natural resources.

For economist Charles Kombo, this can be explained in large part by the very structure of the Congolese economy, which is dependent on oil revenues.

“Oil dependency plays a structuring role in many African economies. In what some call a ‘rentier state’, a large part of public resources comes from the exploitation of natural resources rather than taxation,” he explained.

In a rentier state, the country generates substantial revenue from “renting out” natural resources, such as oil, to foreign companies. In exchange for the exploitation rights granted on these resources, the state receives royalties, taxes, or a share of production.

In this type of system, Kombo explains, the management of revenues becomes central to political power.

“Control of this revenue often reinforces institutional centralisation,” he said, explaining that dependence is no longer solely economic, but becomes institutional and sometimes psychological, as it influences budgetary priorities, political strategies, and even perceptions of development.

He points out that when the economy relies heavily on extractive revenues, economic and political resources tend to become intertwined, which can limit electoral competitiveness.

“Oil revenues can generate significant income, but they do not guarantee the structural transformation of the economy,” he said.

This oil dependence also exposes the country to fluctuations in oil prices on international markets.

After the fall in crude oil prices in 2014, the Congolese economy experienced a severe crisis. Public debt exceeded 90 percent of GDP, before being restructured under agreements with the International Monetary Fund and several international creditors.

Although this has helped stabilise the macroeconomic situation, the country remains heavily indebted. According to the World Bank, public debt fell from 103.6 percent of GDP in 2020 to about 93.6 percent in 2024, reflecting a gradual improvement, but also the continued vulnerability of Congo’s economy to fluctuations in global oil prices.

For political analyst Alphonse Ndongo, oil revenues also influence political life in Congo.

“Oil has become the fuel of the political system. It is used to finance parties, co-opt elites, and maintain social balance,” he said.

According to him, “oil money comes easily and quickly”, but this financial windfall has long delayed necessary structural reforms such as economic diversification.

In his view, the steady flow of money from the oil sector can create a sense of complacency within the system, reducing the pressure to pursue deeper structural reforms. As a result, debates around economic diversification tend to emerge mainly during periods of financial stress, when falling oil prices expose the limits of the model. But when revenues rise again, he argues, the urgency to diversify often fades, leaving the economy heavily dependent on the same resource.

‘An uphill battle’

As the country’s oil wealth fails to filter to the majority of the population, young people are particularly affected and many face unemployment.

According to data from the World Bank and the International Labour Organization, the youth unemployment rate in Congo is among the highest in Central Africa, while the informal sector absorbs the majority of new entrants to the labour market.

During a news conference on March 4 in Brazzaville, Prime Minister Anatole Collinet Makosso, who is also spokesperson for presidential candidate and incumbent leader Nguesso, said that young people were at the heart of the government’s policy.

“Youth has always been at the centre of Denis Sassou Nguesso’s policies and social projects,” he said, citing investments in education and the construction of universities.

He also claimed that the unemployment rate had fallen from 44 percent to 39 percent in recent years.

But on the ground, many young people remain sceptical.

Landry, 23, a student in the capital Brazzaville who did not want to give his last name, says he has lost faith in political promises.

“Promises of jobs come back every election. It’s become a cycle,” he said.

A months-long strike at Marien Ngouabi University, the country’s main institution of higher education, forced him to interrupt his studies.

“I went back to my parents’ house to wait and see what I could do. Today, I’m seriously thinking about going abroad.”

Another student in Brazzaville, a 26-year-old woman who did not want to give her name, expressed similar frustration.

“The only sector that is really recruiting today is the army. But not everyone can become a soldier. Becoming a civil servant is also an uphill battle,” she said.

Even sectors that are supposed to be structured are not immune to precariousness. Regine, a young journalist who also did not want to provide her last name, said she works without a stable employment contract.

“In the media, many young people live off ‘camora’, one-off payments for services. It’s not a real salary.”

She also lamented the difficulties of everyday life, including infrastructure issues, such as power cuts and inconsistent water supplies, despite repeated government investment plans.

“In the 21st century, people rejoice when the electricity comes back on. And when the water finally flows, everyone rushes to fill buckets,” she said.

‘Social time bomb’

Congo’s infrastructure problems are a reminder to Regine and many others that economic difficulties go beyond the issue of employment.

At the same time, the consequences of the country’s youth employment crisis also reverberate more widely and into the social sphere.

Analyst Ndongo sees this as a potentially explosive situation.

“When there are large numbers of young people who are unemployed and have no prospects, it can become a social time bomb,” he said.

This dynamic is already visible in the tensions that emerge when unemployment and inequality intersect, Ndongo explained: As large numbers of young people struggle to find work while wealth linked to the oil sector remains visible, frustration can build among those excluded from economic opportunities.

He says pressure can be contained for a time, but without meaningful job opportunities and stronger education systems, resentment may deepen. Over time, he warns, groups of unemployed and poorly trained youth can become more vulnerable to crime or gang activity.

The Congolese population is very young: more than 60 percent of people are under 25, according to United Nations data. This demographic reality represents both economic potential and a major challenge for the authorities.

For economist Kombo, the issue goes far beyond just unemployment.

“Demographics are a major political factor in many African countries. When the population is predominantly young, expectations for employment and social mobility are particularly high.”

According to him, long-term political stability will depend on the ability to create economic opportunities.

“Development is not distributed,” he said, “it is built.”

Despite the frustrations, political mobilisation remains limited, even as several candidates rally to compete against Nguesso in this weekend’s vote.

Chris Taty, a young student in Brazzaville, says he is not interested in the current election, as it is clear that the president who has already been in power for more than 40 years will once again reign supreme.

“Everyone already knows who is going to win. So why bother voting? I’d rather stay at home and do other things,” he said.

“Sometimes we joke that Sassou [Nguesso] is our grandfather,” the young journalist Regine said. “He has been ruling for so long that many of us have never known another president”

Nguesso has been a dominant figure in Congolese politics for decades, first ruling the country from 1979 to 1992 before returning to power in 1997 following a brief period out of office. His long tenure has enabled him to consolidate influence over key state institutions. Meanwhile, analysts say the country’s opposition remains fragmented and lacks the organisational capacity to pose a strong challenge.

For some potential voters, the perception of a largely predictable outcome has contributed to a degree of political disengagement, which Ndogo says is a “feeling of resignation”.

“Resignation is ingrained in everyone … Students, politicians, intellectuals … everyone is forced to scramble for a piece of the pie,” he said.

“We are all lulled into resignation because we tell ourselves that if we stand up against the established order, against those in power, we risk ending up in prison or even six feet under. It’s risky to oppose the system today.”

This combination of economic frustrations and limited political participation is a main challenge facing Congo, observers say. And the issue of youth unemployment risks becoming a major crisis in the coming years if nothing is done to fix it.

For many educated yet underemployed young people in the oil-rich country, the question is whether or not Congo can transform its natural wealth into concrete opportunities for its people.

“We are not asking for much,” said Regine. “Just the chance to work, to live in our own country with dignity and to believe that our future can be built here, without connections, with equal opportunities for young people, and without conditions.”

LAREDO, Texas — A month after ICE agents sent the young Ecuadoran mother and her 7-year-old daughter to a sprawling detention center 1,300 miles from their Minnesota home, they were finally free.

But when the bus pulled up to a migrant shelter in the Texas border city of Laredo, dropping off a half-dozen families lugging bags stuffed with belongings, the stress of recent weeks tracked mother and daughter like the long shadows on that mid-February afternoon.

Night after night inside south Texas’ Dilley Immigration Processing Center with hundreds of other families, the grade-schooler wept and pleaded to know why they were being held.

“She would tell me, ‘Mom, what crime did I commit to be a prisoner?’ I didn’t know what to tell her,” said the 29-year-old, who spoke on condition of anonymity for fear being identified could negatively affect their immigration case. Her husband was deported to Ecuador soon after they were taken into custody.

Many Americans were alarmed last month when photos circulated showing U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents in Minneapolis detaining a 5-year-old boy wearing a bunny hat and carrying a Spider-Man backpack. The concern followed Liam Conejo Ramos and his father when they were sent to Dilley, surrounded by chain-link fences on a dusty plain about 75 miles south of San Antonio.

But Liam was hardly an outlier. ICE has been holding hundreds of children at Dilley — many for months.

“We are all Liam,” Christian Hinojosa, an immigrant from Mexico, said by phone from Dilley, where she and her 13-year-old son were held for more than four months. They were released this month and allowed to return home to San Antonio, where she works as a health aide.

She noted that Liam and his father were released from Dilley after 10 days, after members of Congress and a judge intervened.

“My son says, ‘That’s unfair, Mama. What’s the difference between him and us?’”

Ramping up family detentions

When the Obama administration opened Dilley in 2014, nearly all families detained there had recently crossed the border from Mexico. Detentions at the facility were scaled back by the Biden administration in 2021, before it was closed three years later.

Since being reopened by President Trump’s administration last spring, life inside Dilley — a compound of trailers and other prefabricated buildings — has been shaped by three decisive changes.

The number of detained families has risen sharply since last fall. The government is holding many children well beyond the 20-day limit set by long-standing court order. And many detainees have lived in the U.S. for several years, with roots in neighborhoods, workplaces and schools, according to lawyers and other observers.

“Just imagine that you’re a child and you’re taken out of your surroundings,” said Philip Schrag, a Georgetown University law professor and author of “Baby Jails: The Fight to End the Incarceration of Refugee Children in America.”

Suddenly you’re in “a completely strange environment with the doors locked and guards in uniform roaming around,” said Schrag, who counseled Dilley detainees as a volunteer lawyer during the Obama administration.

ICE booked more than 3,800 children into detention during the first nine months of the new Trump administration, according to an Associated Press analysis of data from UC Berkeley’s Deportation Data Project. On an average day, more than 220 children were held, with most of those detained longer than 24 hours sent to Dilley. More than half of Dilley detainees during that period were children.

Nearly two-thirds of children detained by ICE were eventually deported, and almost 1 in 10 left the country when their parents accepted voluntary departure, according to an AP analysis of the latest comprehensive data. About a quarter were released in the U.S., requiring their parents to check in regularly with ICE as their legal cases proceed.

The number of detainees at Dilley has risen sharply since the period covered by the data, nearly tripling between fall and late January to more than 1,300, according to Relevant Research, which analyzes immigration enforcement data.

“We’ve started to use 100 days as a benchmark for prioritizing cases because so many children are exceeding 20 days,” said Leecia Welch, the chief legal director at Children’s Rights, who visits Dilley regularly to ensure compliance. In a visit this month, Welch said she counted more than 30 children who had been held for over 100 days.

The increased detention of children comes as the Trump administration has gutted a Department of Homeland Security office responsible for oversight of conditions inside Dilley and other facilities.

“It’s a particular concern that family detention is being increased,” said Dr. Pamela McPherson, a child and adolescent psychiatrist contracted by Homeland Security from 2014 until last year to inspect and investigate conditions at Dilley and other ICE facilities holding children. “Just who’s providing that check and balance now?”

Rep. Tony Gonzales (R-Texas), who represents the congressional district where Dilley is located, said multiple visits have convinced him criticism of the center is unfair.

He said he’d been impressed by Dilley’s facilities and the professionalism and dedication of staff. “They’re not doing policy. They’re just fulfilling a duty,” Gonzales said.

The Homeland Security Department did not respond to detailed questions about Dilley submitted by the AP. But both Homeland Security and ICE objected to allegations of poor care and conditions there.

“The Dilley facility is a family residential center designed specifically to house family units in a safe, structured and appropriate environment,” ICE Director Todd M. Lyons said in a statement this week. Services include medical screenings, infant care packages and classrooms and recreational spaces, he noted.

But concerns about Dilley are personal for Kheilin Valero Marcano, a Venezuelan immigrant detained with her husband and 1-year-old daughter, Amalia, in December and held for nearly two months.

When the child got a high fever, Valero Marcano said Dilley staff told her it was just a virus. Two weeks later, Amalia started vomiting, then losing weight. Valero Marcano said she took her to the Dilley doctor’s office at least eight times, and was offered only Tylenol and ibuprofen.

The baby was eventually sent to two hospitals, where doctors diagnosed COVID-19, bronchitis, pneumonia and stomach virus, she said.

ICE disputed Valero Marcano’s account, saying in a statement the baby “immediately received proper medical care” at Dilley before being sent to the hospital. Back in Dilley, “she was in the medical unit and received proper treatment and prescribed medicines,” it said.

The family’s return to Dilley coincided with a measles outbreak there. They were released earlier this month after their lawyers petitioned the court.

“I’m so worried for all the families who are still inside,” Valero Marcano said.

A teen in distress

After more than two months in a cramped room at Dilley with three other families, the 13-year-old girl’s depression turned increasingly dark.

The eighth-grader stopped eating after finding a worm in her food, family members said. Staff sometimes withheld medications she’d long been prescribed to keep her anxiety in check and help her sleep.

When a total lockdown was imposed, a guard blocked the teen from leaving the crowded room to join her mother and sister in the bathroom. She spiraled into crisis, and used a plastic knife from the cafeteria to cut her wrist.

“She said she didn’t want to live anymore because she preferred to die rather than having to keep living in confinement,” her mother, Andrea Armero, told the AP in a video call from Colombia, where the family was deported this month. The AP generally avoids identifying people who attempt or die by suicide.

The girl’s struggles began before she arrived at Dilley. Soon after starting middle school in Colombia, she learned a family member had sexually abused her younger sister. Armero said she saw no option but to leave, and in early 2024 she and her daughters traveled to the U.S.-Mexico border and applied for asylum.

Living with family in Florida, the 13-year-old was doing well in school but sometimes experienced panic attacks about being sent back to Colombia. Under a psychiatrist’s care, she was prescribed anti-anxiety and anti-depression medications and regularly saw a therapist. Then, in December, ICE agents detained Armero and her daughters during a routine check-in.

At Dilley, the 13-year-old calmed herself by drawing, producing haunting pictures of a girl locked inside gates. But when she and other detainees took part in a protest after 5-year-old Liam and his father got to Dilley, guards took away drawing materials and ordered everyone to stay inside.

The teen’s mental health collapsed. She tried to harm herself with the plastic knife, Armero said, and repeatedly hit her head. The family was put into isolation without seeing a doctor, then deported to Colombia on Feb. 11 after a judge ordered them removed, she said.

Dilley discharge documents described “active problems,” including a “suicide attempt by cutting of wrist” and “self-harm,” in addition to a “history of post-traumatic stress disorder” and “history of anxiety.” AP also spoke with detainees and attorneys who independently described the girl’s suicide attempt.

Responding to questions from AP, a Department of Homeland Security official acknowledged there had been “a case of self-harm” inside the facility, but did not specify what had happened, or how staff handled the incident. When AP asked for details, the department did not respond to follow-up questions.

“No child at Dilley … has been denied medical treatment or experienced a delayed medical assessment,” said Ryan Gustin, a spokesman for CoreCivic, the for-profit prison company that operates the facility under contract with ICE. Gustin declined to answer specific questions about the 13-year-old girl, citing privacy rules.

Detention weighs on children

On a phone call from inside Dilley, 13-year-old Gustavo Santino-Josa introduced himself to a reporter by name and the nine-digit identification number ICE assigned him when he was taken into custody with his mother.

“Until today I don’t know what we did wrong to get detained,” Gustavo said. “I’ve seen my mom cry almost daily, and I ask God that we can go out and go home soon.”

He worried they might never be released.

“My mom says that as long as there is hope it is worth fighting for,” Gustavo said before handing the phone to his mother, Christian Hinojosa, the healthcare aide originally from Mexico.

“All his friends have left already,” his mother said. “Some were deported. Some got released recently. And it hurts. It hurts to see people leaving and you’re staying here.”

Dilley was built to hold 2,400 people, housed in clusters ICE calls “neighborhoods.” Bunk beds are arranged side-by-side for up to four families, frequently putting parents with young children in close quarters.

Once in full operation, Dilley is expected to generate about $180 million in annual revenue for CoreCivic, according to the company’s recent filing with securities regulators.

In a video on its website, CoreCivic says Dilley’s “open campus layout allows residents to move freely and unescorted throughout the day.”

It does not mention that parents and their children are locked inside.

In response to questions from the AP, CoreCivic’s Gustin said the staff at Dilley includes a pediatrician, pediatric nurse practitioner and other trained medical professionals and mental health services workers to “meet the needs of children and families in our care.”

In talks with parents of children held at Dilley, however, the same problems come up repeatedly, said Welch, the children’s rights lawyer.

Kids cry often and don’t get enough sleep, in part because lights are on around the clock, she said. The water tastes terrible and causes stomachaches and rashes, so some families stick to what they can buy in the commissary.

Their children don’t eat enough and have lost weight, Welch said. There are classrooms, but instruction is limited to an hour daily, mostly filling out worksheets.

A 14-year-old girl, identified in court papers by the initials NVSM, reported there were tensions with up to 12 people sharing their room. At night when she and her mother tried to sleep, others insisted on turning up the TV.

“I feel very sad and stressed to be here,” the teen said in an account filed with the court that oversees a binding settlement governing detention and release of children. “My nerves are so high. I don’t know what is happening. My muscles will twitch because I’m so nervous and on edge.”

Concerns about oversight

As the government’s detention of parents and their children came under scrutiny in 2014, an ICE official claimed that family detention centers, equipped with basketball courts and medical clinics, were “more like a summer camp.”

The characterization irritated McPherson, the child psychiatrist who, along with another physician, was retained in 2014 by Homeland Security to inspect family detention centers. Their contracts were not renewed by the Trump administration last year after Homeland Security announced sweeping staff reductions.

“Having a clean place to sleep, having food, that’s not the same thing as having family and community,” McPherson said.

The doctors’ investigations of family detention centers exposed consistently inadequate staffing and disregard by administrators for the trauma caused by detention, concerns they reported in 2018 to a Senate caucus set up to hear from whistleblowers.

At Dilley, the doctors noted a persistent shortage of pediatricians and the inability to hire a child psychiatrist from the time they began their inspections until they alerted senators.

Employees unsure how to deal with 2-year-olds biting and hitting one another placed the children and their parents in medical isolation for days, McPherson and her colleague told senators. Without supervision, a nurse at Dilley gave adult-strength hepatitis A shots to about 250 children in 2015, the American Immigration Lawyers Assn. reported.

Homeland Security responded to many of the findings by making changes before a special committee recommended in late 2016 that the government discontinue family detention except in rare cases. The first Trump administration increased family detention before the Biden administration began phasing it out in 2021.

That the Trump administration is again holding families at Dilley after so many warnings feels “dystopian,” McPherson said.

“The decision to knowingly traumatize children and subject them to chronic stress, I just have no words for it,” she said.

Worries even after release

Huddled around picnic tables at the Laredo migrant shelter, parents released from Dilley searched anxiously for flights back to the homes they left behind. They called relatives, friends, teachers, anyone who might help with money to get there.

The young Ecuadoran mom talked of returning to Minneapolis, where her 2-year-old daughter, born in the U.S., was staying with a friend. With her husband deported, parenting will be entirely her responsibility.

That means getting her 7-year-old back in school. Then the woman, who had a work permit and a job in a Minneapolis restaurant before being detained, needs to keep her children fed.

“Let’s go home, Mom, but don’t go back to work because ICE is going to pick you up again,” the little girl said. Her mother tried to reassure her.

That won’t happen, she said, because now they have a special paper telling ICE to leave them alone.

She hopes that’s a promise she can keep.

Burke, Geller and Gonzalez write for the Associated Press. AP data reporter Aaron Kessler in Washington contributed to this report.

Crystal Palace manager Oliver Glasner has cast doubt on his immediate future at Selhurst Park after admitting he’s “not good enough” in the role, following the club’s 1-1 draw against Zrinjski in the UEFA Europa Conference League play-offs.

READ MORE: Glasner’s Crystal Palace future in serious doubt

WASHINGTON — At Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention facilities across the country, detainees go without medicine for serious health conditions, endure miscarriages while shackled and are dying in record numbers, a group of U.S. senators said.

In a letter sent Friday to Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem and ICE senior official Todd Lyons, 22 Democratic lawmakers alleged that a “dramatic” surge in deaths in federal immigration custody is a “clear byproduct” of the Trump administration’s mass deportation agenda and rapid expansion of detention.

“Each death in ICE custody is a tragedy and, based on the evidence available from agency records, 911 calls, and medical experts, many could have been prevented if not for this Administration’s decisions,” the senators wrote. The letter, released Tuesday, was led by Illinois Sen. Dick Durbin and signed by California Sen. Alex Padilla.

At least 32 people died in ICE custody in 2025, they asserted. That’s triple the previous year’s total and more deaths than were recorded during the entire Biden administration. ICE has reported seven deaths so far this year, as well as seven in December alone.

In the letter, the senators demanded detailed information about the agency’s death investigations, medical standards and oversight procedures.

The Department of Homeland Security, which oversees ICE, did not respond to the allegations but has repeatedly defended its detention standards. In a statement, ICE said it is “committed to ensuring that all those in custody reside in safe, secure and humane environments,” adding that detainees receive medical, dental and mental health screenings within 12 hours of arrival, full health assessments within 14 days and access to 24-hour emergency care.

The lawmakers’ warning comes amid mounting allegations that detention facility staff have withheld critical medication, delayed emergency responses and failed to provide adequate mental health care.

The agency came under flak recently after a Texas medical examiner ruled the January death of a Cuban immigrant a homicide after witnesses said they saw guards choking him to death.

In Calexico, Calif., Luis Beltrán Yanez-Cruz, 68, died after more than a month in detention, records show; the Honduran national’s family alleged that he repeatedly reported worsening stomach and chest pain but received only pain medication.

The recent rise in deaths coincides with a dramatic expansion of the detention system. Funding for ICE roughly tripled after Congress passed the One Big Beautiful Bill Act. The agency has used the funds to increase detention capacity, holding more than 67,000 people nationwide after reaching a historic high of approximately 73,000, many of whom have no criminal history, the letter says.

Last week, the Trump administration announced $38.3 billion in partnerships with private prison corporations, including GEO Group and CoreCivic, to further scale up detention space. One planned facility near Phoenix will cost $70 million and span the equivalent of seven football fields, according to the lawmakers. ICE has also reopened facilities that were previously shuttered over chronic staffing shortages and medical concerns.

Concerns about conditions have extended to California. Last month, Padilla and Sen. Adam Schiff toured a for-profit detention center in California City after reports of unsafe facilities, inadequate medical care and limited access to attorneys.

“It’s the tragic result of a system failing to meet the most basic duty of care,” Padilla said in a statement, citing reports of mold in food, unclean drinking water and barriers to medical care.

A federal judge recently ordered the administration to provide adequate healthcare and improved access to counsel at the facility, concluding that detainees were likely to “suffer irreparable harm” without court intervention.

In their letter, the senators argued that the rapid growth of the detention system has outpaced oversight and accountability. They cited internal audits documenting violations of detention standards, allegations that ICE failed to pay third-party medical providers for months and analyses of 911 calls from large facilities showing repeated cardiac events, seizures and suicide attempts.

“Rather than accepting responsibility for deaths in government custody and providing detailed facts about the circumstances of each death,” the senators wrote, “the Department of Homeland Security has attempted to smear deceased individuals’ reputations by emphasizing details about their immigration status and their alleged wrongdoing.”

As detention capacity continues to expand, the climbing death tallies underscore the extent to which the Trump administration has overhauled the immigration detention system, and Democrats say the results are fraught.

The opposition party has grown more unified after the fatal shootings of two U.S. citizens by federal agents in Minnesota, which coincided with reports of record high detention deaths in December.

Discord culminated in a partial government shutdown that began Friday when Senate Democrats refused to fund the Department of Homeland Security until the Trump administration agrees to reform at the agency.

Steve Smith and his son Joe are leaving their lives of luxury behind as they take part in the Channel 5 show.

In a new episode of Channel 5’s Rich House, Poor House, one family get to live in the luxurious Ludstone Hall, owned by Poundland founder, Steve Smith.

Steve and his son Joe are swapping lives with Kelly, John and their five children who live 29 miles away in Stafford.

For seven days, they get to live in each other’s homes and survive on their budgets and lifestyle.

In a clip shown on Instagram, Steve highlighted the spacious mansion he lives in, boasting 11 bedrooms and six bedrooms.

However, Kelly, John and their family live in a four-bedroom semi and live hand to mouth.

As the pair swap homes, the couple are blown away to see the mansion they’d be living in for a week.

When inside, John sent his children on a mission to find the swimming pool, although they had trouble locating it, unaware that the ballroom floor lowered to create a pool.

One of their daughters commented: “We were walking over it and everything! No one even knew that it was there. That was the shock. It was very magical, very hidden even though it’s right in front of your eyes.”

For the latest showbiz, TV, movie and streaming news, go to the new **Everything Gossip** website.

As the family got acquainted with their new life of luxury, they were speechless to discover their budget for the week was a staggering £2,040.

Overcome with emotion, Kelly replied: “That’s a lot. Are we too late in life to achieve, to even get even half of this a week? Are we too far in life to get this?”

Whereas Steve and his son were tasked with living off the family’s budget of £39.80. Commenting on the price, he said: “I never expected to have such a little budget.”

Viewers were quick to comment on the clip shared on Instagram, as one person said: “I watched this episode last night!!! One of there best ones, Both families are so nice and genuine.. happy with the outcome at the end.”

Another added: “This programme is a genuine reality eye opener.”

Someone else wrote: “I love this programme. It’s almost always has got such lovely people both sides.”

Rich House, Poor House is available to watch on Channel 5.

Ensure our latest headlines always appear at the top of your Google Search by making us a Preferred Source.** Click here to activate**** or add us as your Preferred Source in your Google search settings.**

GORDON Ramsay has opened up about his childhood – revealing he was so poor he ate toothpaste and didn’t have food for days.

On Wednesday his new six-part Netflix documentary Being Gordon Ramsay airs, detailing his efforts to launch his latest ambitious project.

Britain’s highest eaterie, Restaurant Gordon Ramsay High is on the 60th floor of skyscraper 22 Bishopsgate in the City of London.

Having trained under Marco Pierre White, aged 35 he set up his first eponymous restaurant, winning three coveted Michelin stars shortly after.

He now has eateries all across the globe, and is arguably the planet’s most famous chef.

His work ethic is relentless – possibly a result of his humble upbringing.

READ MORE ON GORDON RAMSAY

made the cut

Adam Peaty’s mum is in Gordon Ramsay’s doc – despite demands to be removed

KITCHEN CLOSING

Top chef who worked with Gordon Ramsay to close restaurant after 3 months

In one episode, Gordon gets emotional recalling his own childhood struggles, growing up on a council estate in Glasgow.

Relying on food vouchers at school to eat, he speaks powerfully on the embarrassment of being desperately poor.

Today, he has teamed up with a fantastic charity, Feeding Britain, to tackle child poverty. The aim is to provide Britain’s 800,000 kids in poverty with affordable food.

Gordon has quietly and personally donated “very heavily” to the cause.
Shockingly Gordon recalls: “I was hungry all the time, there was no food in the house.

“I was sometimes too embarrassed to use my vouchers to get mt free shepherds pie in case, you know, aged 15 or 16, a girl I fancied saw me.

”I was a skinny f***ing bean. I remember eating toothpaste thinking that was delicious because there were multiple nights where we never ate.

“It is appalling that we’re in this situation now. It’s disgusting, an embarrassment. The system’s dysfunctional.”

While Gordon’s father, who died from a heart attack aged 53, was an alcoholic, his younger brother Ronnie is, tragically, a heroin addict.

Having gone for long swathes of time not speaking, he reveals the pair had  a reconciliation of sorts on the phone last week.

Becoming visibly emotional, Gordon recalls: “It was just sad because at the end of that call he said, ‘did I hear you ask for my bank details? I’ve got no electricity’.

“And so I said, ‘Come on, Ronnie, you know damn well if I knew that was going on electricity, I would. But I know full well that’s going to go on drugs.’
”’And it pains me, it kills me, mate.’ 

“We’ve been down this road so many times.”

Gordon’s new Netflix series will see the star put all his energy into his new project, 22 Bishopsgate.

Home to Britain’s tallest restaurant, its Restaurant Gordon Ramsay High, an intimate 12-seater chef’s table experience, has already earned him another Michelin star.

I’ve seen the show, and it’s brilliant, giving viewers a fly-on-the-wall look into Gordon’s frenetic and fabulous – he and Tana are parents to six kids – home life, as well as the sheer hell of getting a new business off the ground.

”I won’t watch it,” he smiles. “I never ever watch myself on telly because it’s just incredibly nerve-wracking.

“I think when you’ve done it and lived it, the last thing you want to do is sit there with lots of popcorn. There’s a level of embarrassment.”

Even without Gordon’s viewership, it is sure to be another Netflix smash.