From around 3pm on Wednesday to 10am on Friday, 50 migrants from Venezuela were temporary residents of Martha's Vineyard.
They arrived in two planes, seemingly at the direction of Florida's Republican governor, Ron DeSantis — unwittingly becoming pawns in a political game over U.S. immigration policy.
Without a clear plan for where they should go, they spent two nights at St. Andrew's Episcopal Church and Parish House in Edgartown. Families stayed in the Parish House, while single people were put across the street in the church.
Church volunteers and others from the community rushed to make their stay as comfortable as possible—while keeping the media that had rushed to the scene a safe distance away.
In the church parking lot, a group of men kicked around a soccer ball—their bodies outlined by the golden hour light—as volunteers lingered as a wall between the game and the TV news crews and cameras. A church service was offered, and one of the volunteers gently led those who were staying at the Parish House across the street to the bright red doors of the church.
A heckler clad in a bright blue polo shirt approached two of the women and invited them to go for ice cream. Speaking loudly, he claimed to be a lawyer. When Jackie Stallings, a volunteer, got in his way, he started making accusations that the volunteers are trapping the migrants. The police were called, and soon their blue lights illuminated the road between both buildings. There were no grounds for arrest, but the police stayed and kept watch.
At one point, a truck pulled up between the two church buildings carrying stacks of aluminum pans filled with food and Liquid Death Mountain Water. As volunteers began to huddle around the truck and bring the donations inside, Lisa Belcastro, a shelter coordinator, fervently shooed away journalists who were getting in the way.
As night fell on Thursday, men and women could be seen stepping out onto the sidewalk to chat or make a phone call. Three men smile broadly as they watch a video on one of their phones. Further along the sidewalk, cigarette plumes evaporate relief into the air.
One migrant, Carlos, held his phone, spinning around to film the surrounding scenery. He then crossed the street and, with a wide smile, offered a thumbs up to the assembled journalists.
Politicians and immigration lawyers arrived sporadically for impromptu press conferences, saying that Republican governors were using children and vulnerable people as "political pawns" in the fight over immigration policy.
Some migrants agreed to be interviewed by journalists in Spanish, while others observed the scene from the Parish House porch. Two migrants described the confusion that had brought them here, and showed the map of Massachusetts they had been given before boarding the plane. They said they were lured by a woman named "Perla," and that they did not understand where they were transported to or why.
"The state should not be interfering with federal immigration policy," Attorney Rachel Self told journalists as she held up the map the migrants had been given.
Through the windows of the Parish House, children can be seen in a room with yellow walls with puzzle pieces scattered across the floor around them. When an adult sees that a TV camera has aimed its lens in their direction, two women bring a blanket and secure it over the window to block the view.
On Friday morning, it was sunny in the church parking lot. Shuttle buses have arrived to take them to a ferry, which will bring them to Joint Base Cape Cod in Bourne, by the order of Massachusetts Governor Charlie Baker. Accommodations there will be better suited for them.
The volunteers gave cheers, hugs, and high-fives as the migrants waited in line and boarded the buses.
Then, they returned to the church and the parish house to fold up the cots and bring things back to the way they had been before.