The facility will be run by the same private prison company that operated the grounds before, the Utah-based Management and Training Corporation. Once derided as “Ritmo,” a portmanteau of Raymondville and Gitmo because of the indefinite detention immigrants faced there, the lockup was originally built in 2006 like a tent city, comprising 10 Kevlar domes that held about 200 inmates apiece.

The jail has only ever held immigrants. From 2006 until 2011, ICE filled the tents with detainees. During that period, more than a dozen allegations of sexual abuse were leveled at guards, a 2011 PBS Frontline documentary reported, and the Department of Homeland Security opened criminal investigations of 13 employees.

ICE pulled its contract after those allegations surfaced, but shortly thereafter MTC inked a new deal with another government agency, the Bureau of Prisons. According to the 10-year, $532 million contract, MTC would run an immigrant-only jail on the site, mostly for people convicted of crossing the border illegally.

But the problems persisted. An investigation by the American Civil Liberties Union described tents plagued by bugs and the stench of sewage. A few months later, inmates rioted over what they said was substandard medical care, setting fire to the tents and shutting down the jail.

In response to questions about the facility’s history, Issa Arnita, an MTC spokesman, said that inmates’ “claim of inadequate medical care was never substantiated,” and that MTC used a pest-control company to treat the facility monthly. As for the abuse allegations, “MTC staff are trained to treat detainees with respect and great care,” Arnita said. “Abuse in any form is not tolerated.”

In the three years since the riot, the Kevlar ruin has remained dormant. But now MTC will get a third chance to run a prison here. The company has refurbished the site with conventional, low-slung cell blocks, and locals have begun submitting job applications.

ICE spends more than $2 billion a year on jails, and about 70 percent of that goes to private contractors. But sometimes ICE doesn’t get what it pays for, said Michael Watkins, the former ICE deputy field-office director who oversaw the design and construction of the original tent city. Watkins told me it should have been the “crown jewel” of the South Texas deportation infrastructure—it was the largest detention camp in the country at the time—but he blames MTC for mismanagement. (ICE declined to comment about its decision to partner with MTC again.)

Watkins describes himself as an “advocate for immigration enforcement,” and said he was electrified by Trump’s campaign promises to curb illegal immigration. But Watkins, who retired in 2015 after more than 20 years working in immigration enforcement, said he took pride in treating detainees humanely. “There are lines I don't think we should cross,” he said, as he cautioned against MTC. If Willacy reopens, “that’s a line that we’re crossing.”