(TAMPA BAY AREA, FLORIDA) Tampa Bay sheriffs have asked for a combined $1.92 million in state grants to cover immigration enforcement costs, with Polk County seeking more than $1 million—most of it for detention beds—according to records detailing first-round requests under Florida’s new immigration enforcement funding program. The requests, part of a broader push to expand local participation in federal immigration operations through the 287(g) program, arrived as the state began distributing money set aside to reimburse jails, reward specially trained deputies, and buy equipment for daily enforcement work.
Florida Chief Financial Officer Blaise Ingoglia announced the first awards in October, framing the grants as backing for county agencies working with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
“Today I am here and I am proud to award over $1.8 million to support our sheriff’s offices in their efforts to assist ICE with illegal immigration enforcement. The funds awarded today are through the state board of Immigration Enforcement and are reimbursements for the 287(g) programs and equipment necessary to assist ICE in the enforcement of immigration laws in addition to bonuses for the officers that are 287(g) certified,” he said.
The Tampa Bay sheriffs’ requests fall within that initial round, with more allocations expected as applications are reviewed and the program scales up.
The largest share in the region comes from Polk County’s request for over $1 million, designated primarily for detention capacity, a signal of how counties expect to use the new money to manage intake and transport of detainees identified for transfer to ICE custody. The rest of the $1.92 million sought by sheriff’s offices around Tampa Bay is set aside for detention costs, bonuses for deputies trained under the 287(g) program, and gear ranging from vans and restraints to portable fingerprint scanners, license plate readers, and AI-assisted translation software. Across Florida, 56 agencies submitted applications totaling more than $14 million for the first round, tapping a program the legislature funded at $250 million statewide for immigration enforcement reimbursements and equipment.
Supporters inside law enforcement say the money formalizes a system that hinges on coordination between county jails and federal officers. Pinellas County Sheriff Bob Gualtieri, a central figure in shaping Florida’s statewide enforcement plan, said the initiatives create structure and predictability in how local and federal teams share duties.
“We have an enhanced collaboration with a structure and a framework that hasn’t existed before,” he said, describing a clearer channel for communication with ICE and a funding pipeline to keep staff and transport moving.
The 287(g) program, run by ICE, gives trained local officers authority to act as force multipliers for federal immigration enforcement—typically inside county jails—by performing certain screening tasks and flagging people for potential transfer based on immigration status and underlying charges. Under Florida’s new grant scheme, counties can claim daily reimbursements of $75 or $100 per inmate, depending on the type of federal immigrant-detention program involved, for up to 48 hours of holding until ICE pickup or transfer. The state’s blueprint carves Florida into 18 regions and designates sheriffs in each zone to coordinate transports to ICE facilities, a duty that can include moving detainees between counties to consolidate transfers and reduce delays. More information on federal roles and local agreements is available on ICE’s 287(g) program page.
Officials say the first months of the new regime brought measurable activity. In 2025, Florida sheriffs reported arresting and processing 550 individuals for deportation through the 287(g) program, including more than 140 cases tied to DUIs. The numbers reflect arrests processed in local jails where deputies trained under the program screen people and then refer cases to ICE if records indicate a removable immigration status. Tampa Bay sheriffs, who handle large and busy detention facilities, argue the reimbursement rates are intended to offset costs that otherwise fall on county budgets, including extra shifts, bunk space, and transport runs that have become more frequent as cooperation with ICE increases.
The funding also targets technology and upgrades that sheriffs say will speed up identification and reduce language barriers. Flagler County Sheriff Rick Staly requested $725,874.50, including $341,124 for AI-assisted software to provide real-time translation and $57,225 to add jail bunks and mattresses to expand detention capacity. While Flagler sits outside the Tampa Bay area, its request is often cited by supporters as a template for how the grants can modernize jail operations and cut down on delays when detainees need interviews or medical intake in different languages. Tampa Bay agencies listed similar purchases in their applications—portable fingerprint scanners to confirm identities against federal databases, license plate readers to help locate people flagged for transfer orders, and vans equipped for longer transports to ICE staging areas.
The state created the grant program during a special legislative session in February 2025, and the first tranche of funds began flowing in October 2025. For county budgets, the timing matters. Sheriff’s offices are trying to square increasing transport runs and housing needs with fiscal years that were set before the legislature earmarked $250 million. Tampa Bay sheriffs, who together sought $1.92 million, told state reviewers that reimbursements would fill a gap and allow them to keep specialized 287(g) teams on duty without canceling other community patrols or chopping overtime elsewhere.
Polk County’s request—over $1 million, much of it for detention beds—highlights a core tension in the new system: while the state can reimburse counties for a defined holding period before ICE pickup, jails remain responsible for housing and safety during that window. County administrators point to costs that go beyond bunks and mattresses, including medical checks, additional staffing during intake, and transport fuel when deputies drive detainees to regional hubs or ICE facilities. The grants permit spending on restraints, body-worn cameras, and transport vehicles, reflecting a push to standardize how detainees are moved and monitored during the 48-hour hold period.
Florida’s State Board of Immigration Enforcement, set up to manage the flow of money and coordinate regional roles, places sheriffs at the center of logistics. Under the 18-region map, each designated sheriff is responsible for working with neighboring counties to collect detainees flagged for transfer and ensure ICE receives them within the allowed window. Tampa Bay sheriffs occupy a critical corridor along interstates used to move detainees from rural jails to larger transport hubs. The structure is designed to prevent backlogs that could otherwise force releases when ICE transfer capacity is limited or delayed.
Backers say the plan keeps communities safer and helps ICE focus on people with criminal records. Ingoglia, announcing awards of “over $1.8 million,” tied the grants to federal partners and to incentives for deputies who completed 287(g) training. Counties can offer bonuses to officers who pass certification—money that sheriffs argue helps retain staff, especially in smaller agencies where 287(g)-trained deputies are pulled from busy patrol divisions. Tampa Bay sheriffs included such bonuses in their requests, noting the need to keep trained screeners at jail intake around the clock.
Critics, including some local officials and residents, warn the expanded role for local deputies risks eroding trust with immigrant communities who report crimes, serve as witnesses, or call 911 for help. At a public budget meeting in Hillsborough County, Goffstown resident Jackie Trexler said,
“Immigrants pay taxes just like pretty much everyone in this room. They fill vital social and economic roles in our communities. New Hampshire is a state founded and built by immigrants, and we are stronger for our new American communities.”
Her comments reflected a broader unease among some residents who fear routine encounters could lead to immigration checks and referrals, even when people are victims or witnesses.
Democratic Rep. Mark MacKenzie said the stepped-up local involvement is raising alarms beyond federal debates.
“They’re more concerned than they ever have been about what’s happening at the federal government and now they see this creeping into the local government, into our county,” he said.
Community groups echo those concerns and plan to press county commissions to add safeguards, such as clearer limits on when deputies engage in immigration enforcement outside jail settings. Tampa Bay sheriffs say their focus is inside detention facilities, where 287(g)-trained staff review records after arrests on criminal charges and follow federal leads already in databases, not street-level status checks.
For the sheriff’s offices, the money is as much about routine operations as it is about high-profile cases. Reimbursement rates of $75 or $100 per inmate day are calculated to offset the cost of brief holds that can add up quickly in crowded jails. Deputies describe a typical timeline: a person is booked on a criminal charge, a 287(g)-trained officer screens records and fingerprints, an ICE detainer is issued if the person is deemed removable, and the clock starts on the 48-hour window for pickup or transfer. Transport teams then plan routes and coordinate with regional counterparts to ensure the detainee reaches ICE within two days. A late pickup can mean additional costs and complicated custody handoffs.
Florida’s statewide tally—550 individuals processed for deportation in 2025, including more than 140 for DUIs—offers a snapshot of the categories sheriffs say they encounter most. Tampa Bay agencies note that DUI arrests often bring first-time interactions with immigration status checks, while felony charges tend to have existing fingerprints and records that speed up the process. The grants are designed to streamline both scenarios by paying for the technology and staffing that make referrals to ICE faster and more consistent across counties.
The push has changed day-to-day work inside jails. Deputies with 287(g) certification now rotate through intake, using portable fingerprint scanners to verify identities and confirm detainers, while supervisors track transport slots, vehicle availability, and bed space. Tampa Bay sheriffs flagged the need for reliable vans, restraints that meet federal transport standards, and data systems that sync with ICE to reduce errors when transferring custody. The boards approving requests have signaled that equipment supporting these duties will be prioritized, alongside bonuses aimed at keeping trained deputies in those posts.
While Polk County’s bid for more than $1 million underscores the scale of detention needs, other Tampa Bay agencies made smaller requests focused on equipment and staffing rather than large build-outs. Several earmarked funds for technology upgrades they argue will cut interview times and reduce overtime, including translation software similar to the AI-assisted system Flagler County sought for $341,124. In their applications, Tampa Bay sheriffs said faster, reliable translation during intake can determine whether a detainer is valid and ensure detainees understand their status and upcoming transfer, which can reduce use-of-force incidents and grievances.
For now, the centerpiece of Florida’s plan is the State Board’s 18-region map and the lane it creates between county jails and ICE facilities. Tampa Bay sheriffs sit near the middle of that network, moving detainees between counties and onward to federal custody, and their $1.92 million in requests mirror the operational demands of that role. Whether more money follows will depend on how the first round performs—how many detainers jails process, how quickly transports move, and whether 48-hour holds are consistently met without straining local budgets.
As the program advances, the debate is set to intensify in county meetings and sheriff forums around Tampa Bay. Supporters will point to the 550 processed cases and the “enhanced collaboration” Sheriff Gualtieri described to argue the system is working as designed. Opponents will cite concerns raised by residents like Trexler and lawmakers like MacKenzie, warning that deeper local involvement in immigration enforcement could chill reporting of crimes or push immigrant families further from public life. The next rounds of grant awards will test both arguments, with Tampa Bay sheriffs looking to lock in steady reimbursement flows and equipment purchases, and communities watching to see how expanded cooperation with ICE affects daily life.
What is clear is that Florida has built a financial and logistical framework to put local agencies at the heart of immigration enforcement inside county jails, anchored in the 287(g) program and backed by a large state fund. The first awards in October 2025 signal the state’s intent to push ahead, and the size of Polk County’s request shows how quickly counties are gearing up to add beds, transportation, and trained staff. For detainees, the system means up to 48 hours in county custody before ICE pickup. For Tampa Bay sheriffs, it means balancing routine law enforcement with a growing transport network that stretches across 18 regions, calibrated to move people from local jail cells to federal custody on a tight schedule.
This Article in a Nutshell
Tampa Bay sheriffs requested $1.92 million in state grants under Florida’s new immigration enforcement funding program, with Polk County seeking over $1 million mainly for detention capacity. Grants will reimburse counties $75–$100 per inmate for up to 48 hours before ICE pickup and fund equipment, bonuses, and transport. Florida’s first round saw 56 agencies request over $14 million from a $250 million legislative fund. Supporters highlight improved coordination with ICE; opponents warn of eroded trust in immigrant communities and potential civil-rights concerns.
