By N. Scott Phillips
In America, we do not punish people before they have their day in court. The Constitution guarantees it. Yet in Maryland today, that promise is quietly being undermined—not in theory, but in practice.
Earlier this year, Maryland took an important step by banning 287(g) agreements that pulled local law enforcement into federal immigration enforcement. That was the right move. It kept our officers focused on public safety, not federal civil enforcement. But we left a critical gap unresolved: what happens inside our jails.
Right now, individuals who have only been accused of a crime, people presumed innocent, are being transferred into immigration custody before they ever have a chance to defend themselves. That means Marylanders are being separated from their families without their day in court, without a conviction, and often without due process.
This is not an abstract concern. It is happening to our neighbors, our constituents and the families who call our communities home.
Even without formal agreements, cooperation continues behind the scenes. Local agencies notify ICE of release dates, honor administrative detainers that lack judicial warrants, and facilitate transfers into federal custody. Some sheriffs have made clear they intend to expand these practices.
The Community Trust Act closes this loophole with a simple, constitutional standard: if someone is to be held for immigration purposes in Maryland, there must be a judicial warrant.
That’s it. No ambiguity. No overreach. Just adherence to the Constitution.
This legislation does not interfere with federal immigration enforcement. It simply ensures that Maryland resources are not used to carry out civil immigration actions without judicial oversight. It reinforces a basic principle: in our justice system, judges, not administrative requests, determine when someone can be detained.
The stakes are not just legal; they are human.
During a recent hearing on HB1575, the Community Trust Act, I met a 10-year-old from my district, Evyn. He testified about his uncle, who was deported last year. He described the absence left behind, not only in his own life, but for his cousins now growing up without their father. His story moved me.
It is not unique. It is increasingly common. And it has consequences beyond individual families.
When people are removed from the legal process before their cases are resolved, prosecutions fall apart, victims are denied closure, and the integrity of our courts is weakened. When residents fear that any interaction with law enforcement could lead to deportation, they are less likely to report crimes or cooperate with police. That makes all of us less safe.
Due process is not contingent on immigration status. The Constitution does not allow us to apply its protections selectively.
Courts have already made clear that holding someone solely on the basis of an ICE detainer, an administrative request, not a judicial warrant, can violate the Fourth Amendment. The Community Trust Act simply aligns Maryland law with that reality.
With only days left in the legislative session, the issue is no longer whether we understand the problem. We do. The legal concerns are clear. The human impact is undeniable.
The question is whether Maryland will finish what it started.
The Community Trust Act is a measured, constitutionally grounded solution. It protects due process, respects the role of the courts and recognizes the real impact our policies have on families and communities.
Our laws should reflect a simple truth: due process is not optional. It is a constitutional right, one that belongs to everyone.
The opinions expressed in this commentary are those of the writer and not necessarily those of the AFRO.