ICE sparked internal outrage and public scrutiny when it issued an email announcing a short-lived pilot program: agents would receive $200 for each deportation completed within seven days of arrest, and $100 for deportations within 14 days.
The memo, signed by Liana J. Castano of ICE’s field operations division, was intended to span 30 days. Its goals: clear deportation backlogs, reduce detention expenses, and push forward President Trump’s aggressive mass deportation agenda.
No age cap.
$50,000 signing bonus.
Defending the Homeland.What are you waiting for? Answer the call to serve at ICE.
https://t.co/3c7b0Ry86A pic.twitter.com/ZAmWdVreZG— U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (@ICEgov) August 7, 2025
Yet the program barely got off the ground. According to The New York Times, within four hours, ICE retracted the memo with a follow‑up email bluntly stating, “PLEASE DISREGARD.” A Department of Homeland Security spokeswoman, Tricia McLaughlin, later insisted the initiative was never approved by agency leadership, declaring that “no such policy is in effect or has ever been in effect.”
Despite its fleeting existence, the aborted bonus scheme shows mounting institutional pressure at ICE to accelerate deportations. Under the Trump administration’s newly enacted domestic policy bill, ICE’s annual budget has ballooned from approximately $8 billion to about $28 billion, making it the most heavily funded law-enforcement agency in the U.S.
This dramatic expansion comes alongside an aggressive hiring drive: the agency is targeting 10,000 new agents, offering hefty incentives, including up to $50,000 signing or retention bonuses, student-loan forgiveness, and even six-figure salaries for retired recruits returning to service.
The deportation pace itself has intensified. According to internal data, the share of detainees deported within 14 days rose from 21 percent in January to 30 percent in May, while daily deportations averaged nearly 1,300 in late July, compared to fewer than 800 in the final year of the Biden administration.
Critics warned immediately that financial incentives like these could threaten due process. Scott Shuchart, a former senior homeland security official, admonished: “You can’t incentivize government agents to short‑circuit people’s procedural rights.” Similarly, immigration policy expert Kathleen Bush‑Joseph suggested the program is emblematic of ICE’s willingness to experiment and escalate enforcement under Trump’s direction.
In the end, the swiftly revoked bonus plan serves as a revealing snapshot of a transformed ICE: one that is heavily funded, aggressively recruiting, and under immense pressure to deliver mass deportations, sometimes at the expense of established protocols.
In recent weeks, ICE has rapidly escalated its enforcement operations. The agency expanded its GPS ankle-monitoring program from 24,000 to nearly 180,000 participants, drawing criticism from advocates who describe the devices as digital cages, especially for individuals who pose no threat.
Simultaneously, the Department of Homeland Security eliminated age caps for ICE recruitment, allowing anyone 18 or older to apply. This change triggered a surge of over 80,000 applications in a single week. Combined, these developments reflect a dramatic shift toward high-volume deportations, increased surveillance, and aggressive staffing meant to fulfill the administration’s sweeping immigration agenda.
