“Modern-day concentration camp”: Irish man detained by ICE describes immigration facility as “filthy” with limited outdoor time and “kid-sized meals”

CBS Mornings anchor Vladimir Duthiers introduced the story as a report about “shocking conditions” inside an ICE detention facility—described not by an outside watchdog, but by a man being held there.

In the segment reported by CBS correspondent Shanelle Kaul, Irish national Seamus Culleton spoke by phone from an immigration detention facility in El Paso, Texas, and used language that’s hard to read, much less say out loud. He told Irish state broadcaster RTÉ that the best way he could describe what he was living through was “probably like a modern-day concentration camp.”

Kaul’s report makes clear that Culleton’s claims are forcefully disputed by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, which called allegations of substandard conditions “false,” while also arguing that his detention stems from an immigration violation that did not disappear simply because a green card case was in progress.

What follows is a collision between two realities: one man’s account of months in confinement, fear, and physical decline, and the government’s insistence that the detention system meets high standards and that the law allows removal even when an application is pending.

Who Seamus Culleton Is And How He Ended Up In Detention

Kaul reported that Culleton has lived in the United States for 17 years and had been trying to obtain lawful permanent residency through a marriage-based process, because his wife, Tiffany Smith, is a U.S. citizen.

Culleton told Kaul he was arrested by ICE after being pulled over last fall, and DHS said agents apprehended him on September 9 for overstaying a visa – an allegation that frames the entire legal posture of the case, because overstaying can trigger enforcement even when a person has built a life in the U.S.

Kaul described his life prior to detention in practical, grounded terms: he had been living in the Boston area, running a local plastering business, and, according to the reporting, had no criminal record in the United States.

At the time he was detained, Kaul said, he was awaiting a green card interview and living with Smith, who told CBS Boston she wanted him released so they could “finish what we started,” emphasizing that they believed they were following the process the right way.

That line – finish what we started – lands with a certain heaviness, because it speaks to how immigration cases often feel to families: like a long paperwork marathon where the finish line is visible, until something knocks you off the course.

“Kid-Size Meals,” “Filthy” Bathrooms, And A Life Spent Indoors

Kaul reported that Culleton described the facility as dirty, chaotic, and physically draining, with sickness spreading and food that left people hungry.

He told RTÉ, and Kaul repeated, that the meals were “very, very small” – “kid-size meals” – and that he had “barely any outside time,” describing a routine with little fresh air, little sunshine, and long stretches locked in the same room.

Culleton’s words, as Kaul relayed them, were not polished or performative; they sounded like someone talking through exhaustion, trying to put a name on what months of detention does to a person. He said he had been detained for five months, “locked in the same room for four and a half of those months,” and called it “torture,” adding, “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Kaul also reported his description of the toilets and showers as “completely nasty,” and “very rarely cleaned,” painting a picture of a place where the basics – cleanliness, space, and time outside – feel scarce.

Even if you’ve never been inside an immigration detention facility, it’s not hard to understand what prolonged confinement does to the mind, especially when routines are rigid, uncertainty is constant, and you’re cut off from ordinary life; it’s the kind of pressure that makes small discomforts feel like constant punishment.

And it’s worth saying plainly: when someone uses language as extreme as “modern-day concentration camp,” that’s not just a complaint about bad cafeteria food, it’s a cry for attention, and it’s also a phrase that will ignite intense debate because of what it implies.

The Government Response And The Argument About Legal Status

Kaul reported that DHS rejected the claims about poor conditions and argued that a pending green card application and work authorization “does not give someone legal status” to remain in the United States.

The Department’s statement, as Kaul summarized it, also suggested Culleton’s detention was the consequence of a choice not to self-deport, describing his situation as avoidable if he had accepted removal rather than remain in custody.

Assistant DHS Secretary for Public Affairs Tricia McLaughlin went even further in a statement cited in Kaul’s reporting, calling Culleton’s claims “FALSE” and saying ICE maintains detention standards higher than most U.S. prisons.

That kind of denial matters because it isn’t a soft rebuttal; it’s a flat rejection of the story Culleton is telling, and it puts the public in the familiar position of deciding who seems more credible: the detainee describing daily life, or the agency defending its system.

Kaul also noted a legal reality that many people don’t realize until it hits their family personally: under U.S. law, Homeland Security can deport people with pending immigration applications, even if they have not been convicted of crimes.

That point can feel counterintuitive to the average person, because “pending application” sounds like a protective status, when in many cases it simply means paperwork is moving while the person remains legally vulnerable.

A Transfer In Shackles And The Fear Of Not Knowing What’s Next

One of the most vivid parts of Kaul’s report was Culleton’s description of being transferred, which he framed as not just physically restrictive but psychologically destabilizing.

He said detainees were cuffed and shackled, wearing waist chains and ankle restraints, and then “shuffled onto a plane in the middle of the night,” without knowing where they were headed.

“You don’t know where you’re going,” Culleton told Kaul, describing fear, anxiety, and depression as part of the experience, and calling the whole process “crazy” and “unbelievable.”

Even for people who think detention is justified in immigration enforcement, that description raises a question that sits underneath the entire controversy: what level of harshness is necessary to enforce the law, and what level crosses into something that feels gratuitous?

Kaul’s reporting didn’t pretend to answer that question, but it did show why the argument exists, because the same set of facts can be read as “standard security procedure” by one side and “needlessly traumatic” by the other.

The Ireland Angle, Old Charges, And What “No Criminal Record” Really Means Here

Kaul reported that the Irish Daily Mail said Culleton faced outstanding drug charges in Ireland dating back to 2008, and she noted that under U.S. law DHS can deport people with pending immigration applications even if they haven’t been convicted.

In the longer reporting tied to Kaul’s segment, RTÉ was cited as stating Culleton had been charged in Ireland before leaving for the U.S., including drug possession and intent-to-sell allegations, and that an arrest warrant was issued after he failed to appear in court.

At the same time, Kaul’s reporting included a defense from Culleton’s attorney, Ogor Okoye, who said, “He was not convicted of anything,” while also stressing that in nearly two decades in the U.S. his record was “stellar,” with “not a speeding ticket.”

This is where the story becomes more complicated than a single talking point, because “no criminal record” can mean different things depending on the country, the court status, and whether old charges are unresolved or simply unproven; that gray area is exactly where public sympathy and public skepticism tend to split.

Kaul also reported that Irish officials were aware of the case and providing consular assistance, with Ireland’s Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade saying its embassy was engaging DHS at a senior level.

That detail matters because it suggests the story isn’t just personal anymore; it has become diplomatic enough that Irish officials are at least monitoring it closely, which can add pressure, but doesn’t guarantee a result.

The System Might Be Legal, But The Human Toll Still Counts

It’s possible for two things to be true at once in a story like this: the government may have legal authority to detain and remove someone who overstayed a visa, and the conditions of detention – if they are as Culleton describes – may still be unacceptable in a country that claims to value humane treatment.

Kaul’s reporting sits right on that fault line, because Culleton isn’t arguing he should get a free pass forever; he’s describing what it feels like to be swallowed by a process that moves slowly while life outside keeps marching on, rent and bills don’t pause, and families don’t get to “finish what we started.”

The phrase “modern-day concentration camp” is loaded for obvious reasons, and it risks flattening history into a metaphor, but it also signals desperation, and desperation often shows up when people feel unseen, unheard, and trapped in a place they believe is unsafe or degrading.

If DHS is correct that conditions meet high standards, then transparency should be the easy answer – because the fastest way to beat claims like “filthy” and “kid-size meals” is not just denying them, but proving what detainees actually receive, how often facilities are cleaned, what the menus are, what the outside-time schedules are, and how complaints are handled.

What Happens Next And Why This Story Won’t Go Away Quickly

Kaul reported that DHS framed Culleton’s detention as the outcome of immigration choices, including the suggestion that he could have self-deported, while his wife framed it as an interruption of a lawful process they were already pursuing.

That tension is the whole story: a man says he was trying to do it the right way, the government says “pending” is not “legal,” and in the middle sits a detention system that one side describes as orderly and high-standard while the other calls it filthy and torturous.

Kaul’s segment also pointed to a broader context of concern, noting that outside groups have raised alarms about the facility; in the extended reporting tied to her piece, the ACLU and other organizations were mentioned as having demanded closure of the camp in a letter alleging patterns of abuse and neglect.

Whether those claims are proven or disputed, the simple reality is that public attention tends to sharpen around stories like this because they feature what people relate to most: a spouse waiting at home, a worker with a small business, and a bureaucratic system that can turn daily life into a months-long crisis.

And if there’s one takeaway from Kaul’s reporting, it’s that immigration enforcement doesn’t just decide where someone sleeps – it can decide how they’re treated while they wait, and that part of the system is now being argued about in front of the whole country.