Yaquelin Vasques grew nervous when her husband, Jose Acosta, told her he was taking a construction job near Springdale.
The couple had been taking precautions while Acosta, an undocumented immigrant from Honduras, awaited the outcome of his green card application.
âI was like, âOh babe, I heard so many things from the Springdale area,ââ said Vasques during a July interview at her home in Beaver County more than 30 miles away.
Springdale Borough was long a sleepy square-mile suburb dominated by a power plant, but over the last 12 months has become a local flashpoint for two of the nationâs most contentious issues: data centers and immigration enforcement.
Acosta was picked up by Springdale police around 9 a.m. on July 2 while seated in his parked truck outside a commercial job site in Harmar, according to Vasques. She tracked his phone to the Springdale Borough building, where she confronted an officer who said her husband had been arrested for a traffic violation and was being transported to ICEâs field office in Pittsburgh.
Acosta lived in the country since 2018 without incident other than a 2023 traffic stop, until now.
âIf luck is on our side, he could be home in two, maybe three, years,â said the mother of three.
Yaquelin Vasques is raising her three children alone since her husband was detained in Harmar by ICE and Springdale Borough police on July 2. âIâm not the only one. Thereâs so many people going through it, too,â she said July 14 at her Beaver County home.
ICE spokesman Jason Koontz wrote in an email statement that ICE and Springdale police âwere conducting field operations in the Springdale Borough areaâ when they apprehended Acosta in Harmar.
Acosta is one of several in joint operations involving Springdale police and ICE since the borough signed a formal task force agreement known as a 287(g) in November. That agreement, along with thatâs set to be built a stoneâs throw from family homes, have, since February, set off street protests, rallies outside the borough building and a forceful arrest of a resident at the public speakerâs lectern.
Amid the backlash, two community organizations, Indivisible Allegheny Valley and Save Allegheny Valley Environment (SAVE), have formed as the primary engines of opposition.
Springdale is one of 130 Allegheny County municipalities, tasked with handling streets, parks and public safety. While proponents say small government fosters responsiveness, the confluence of a data center and an immigration crackdown has tested the ability of a small town with largely volunteer leadership to keep its sense of community and preserve trust in its leadership amid divisive national currents.
Locals opposed to both ICE collaboration and the data center say the common thread is a lack of transparency and accountability in the townâs governance.
âIn Springdale, to go from a place where there has not been a lot of activity to having all this organizing (around ICE and data centers) â I donât know what the connection is, but I think there is one,â said resident Amy Sarno, who serves on the Allegheny Valley School Board and volunteers with the Indivisible chapter.
âTransparency and discussion have been severely lacking in our local council,â said resident Matt Lang.
Springdale officials did not respond to multiple requests for comment made by phone, email and in person.
From Rachel Carson to Dynamo DC
Springdale faltered as deindustrialization swept through Western Pennsylvania, drawing down the population from a high of around 5,600 in 1960 to little more than 3,000 today. Though a few industrial mainstays including PPG and Greco Steel still churn out paint and construction materials, the Allegheny Valley river town has no bank or grocery store and the business corridor along Pittsburgh Street is dotted with empty storefronts.
Up the hill on Marion Avenue, the rustic timber homestead where environmental icon Rachel Carson began her life in 1907 captures the uneasy relationship between nature and industry that marked Springdale long before the issues of today.
Carsonâs name is on the nearby riverfront park and a walking trail stretching 45 miles up the Allegheny Valley. Critics of the data center often invoke her legacy in their struggle against the New York-funded data center developer Dynamo DC.
Debbie Sigmund, the elected tax collector and an elder at Springdale United Presbyterian Church, said she thinks the town could do more to capitalize on Carsonâs legacy. Sigmund, 67, helped form the Springdale Team of Active Residents (STAR) in 2008 when she felt her hometown had reached a low point.
âWe were afraid,â she said. âThe main street was sparse.â
STAR meets monthly in the church and works to beautify Springdale by planting trees, hanging veteran banners and supporting new businesses.
During a meeting in June, the committee discussed a grant opportunity to redevelop the main street, mused about whether a plucky restaurateur would ever take over the vacant Methodist church and heard a recent culinary school graduate share plans to open a bakery.
Sigmund said she tries to stay out of the prevailing âsmall-town politicsâ and declined to comment on the data center or other contentious issues.
Her late husband, father and grandfather had all worked in the Cheswick Generating Station before it shuttered in 2022. While some criticized the air pollution caused by the countyâs last coal-burning power plant, Sigmund saw its closure as another blow to the community. The 50-acre site was bought in November by Dynamo DC.
Sigmund said her fight for Springdale can feel like a losing battle, though successes like the arrival of brewpub Leaning Cask some 10 years ago and the new bakery plans give her hope. She believes her town has lots of assets to capitalize on, and could better showcase its riverfront.
âRiver towns are struggling,â she said. âAs long as we can keep the community the way it is, and take baby steps to make it better, thatâs all that we can strive for.â
Lang, 32, bought his home in Springdale in 2024, before he knew of the data center plans. He said his choice was driven in part by the upward potential he saw in the town.
âThey took down the power plant, there was talk of cleaning up the riverfront for recreation. That got me excited, too.â
Now the new homeowner is worried values could drop.
Data center vote divides town
Lang began attending council meetings last fall to get to know his community and participate in civic efforts. After hearing about the data center plans during his second visit, he became involved in organizing small protests outside the borough building.
By the time council came to vote on the plans in December, the auditorium was regularly filled with residents questioning its value to the community.
More than a dozen speakers voiced worries about noise, pollution and its energy consumption, after which five of seven councilors cast yes votes amid boos and jeers.
Several members cast their votes reluctantly, saying they couldnât oppose it without risking a costly lawsuit because the developer had met the zoning requirements.
âThe community would not survive us being sued,â said Councilor Dolly Stephens before voting in support. â⊠We have things outlined, and if we donât vote yes, weâll lose all that and theyâll come in anyway.â
Brigitte Meyer, an attorney at PennFuture, said this is a common trap municipalities like Springdale find themselves in when a developer comes knocking with plans to build a data center. Thatâs in part because many small towns drafted their zoning laws long before the advent of AI platforms, and so they lack the provisions to regulate the vast industrial infrastructure powering them.
Meyer has developed a zoning template to help municipalities across Pennsylvania build their own ordinances, and .
âNow itâs a race against the developers,â said Meyer, âand sometimes the developers are beating municipalities to the punch.â
Dynamo DC says the 652,300-square-foot facility will benefit the town of 3,000 by generating 80 to 100 permanent jobs and funneling millions in annual tax dollars into the borough and school district. The company adjusted the design plan to reduce the noise and improve the aesthetics.
âWhat weâve been trying to do is show people that we are willing to make additional investments to mitigate sound,â Brian Regli, a consultant for Dynamo DC said during an interview at in June .
Regli declined an interview for this story.
Lang said he would be impressed if they make good on their pledge to recycle water rather than constantly drawing new supplies from the river.
Overall, though, he has unanswered questions on key issues, such as the number of generators, the level of noise and the source of power.
âIf they could resolve a lot of the issues here, (the data center) could be a good addition,â he said. âWithout those answers, I donât feel comfortable having it move in next to us.â
Immigration arrests bring fear, activism
As data center furor cooled after the December vote, angst over ICE activity boiled over following a February arrest.
Alleging a minor traffic violation, borough police arrested Randy Cordova Flores, who has no known criminal record, and turned him over to ICE.
Cordova Flores, a Peruvian man with an immigration case in process, before his family launched a costly legal challenge that led to his release from the Clearfield County facility on bond. Flores has two kids in the Allegheny Valley School District, which encompasses Springdale, Cheswick and Harmar.
When Yaquelin Vasques learned her husband was in federal custody on the morning of July 2, she called Frontline Dignity, a local group that trains volunteers to respond to reported ICE arrests by documenting agentsâ conduct and offering support to the detainee or their loved ones.
One of the volunteers who met her, Judah Marroquin from Springdale Township, two miles over, helped Vasques pick up her husbandâs truck and drove with her to ICEâs South Side field office. Marroquin has two school-age kids with her Guatemalan husband, Carlos.
âI donât feel alone,â Vasques said, speaking of support sheâs received from people across the region since her husbandâs arrest.
Vasques said she wants answers about why Springdale was operating two municipalities over in Harmar.
Koontz, the ICE spokesperson, said the Springdale-ICE task force âencountered a black Jeep that failed to properly signal a turn,â and initiated a vehicle stop when they apprehended Acosta in Harmar. He was taken into custody shortly after the occupants âexited the vehicle and absconded into a wooded area nearby,â Koontz wrote.
Koontz did not respond to additional questions about the Springdale departmentâs jurisdiction outside the borough or about the scope of its ICE partnership.
Springdale Police Chief Derek Dayoub did not respond to requests for an interview made by phone and in person.
David Harris, a professor of law specializing in public safety, said Springdale police would not have jurisdiction to work in a neighboring municipality unless the two forces have a clear agreement in place. He said Springdale police may be able to claim they were simply assisting ICE, which as a federal agency has jurisdiction in any municipality.
âIf they were simply picking people for regular routine criminal law enforcement, it would be a problem,â Harris said. âYou have to ask some very fine questions about what Springdale was doing there.â
Local police departments that partner with ICE can qualify for a range of financial incentives once they are âoperational.â Springdale in response to a Right-to-Know Law request Public Source filed in February. Butler Countyâs sheriff department, for example, had billed the federal agency nearly $200,000 for assisting with 71 arrests as of March.
During a July 21 meeting, Springdale Borough Councilor Joe Kern said in response to resident questions that council does not receive regular updates or reports about the policeâs partnership with ICE.
âAs far as I know, ICE isnât actively patrolling Springdale Borough,â he said.
On July 23, a Public Source reporter saw Springdale police officers and ICE agents removing two men from a white van on Freeport Road in Harmar, handcuffing them and leading them to Springdale police vehicles.
Harmar Police Chief Jason Domaratz said his department doesnât have an agreement with ICE, and will only respond if heâs called in for assistance.
âI donât get involved in the BS,â he said.
Domaratz said Springdaleâs agreement with ICE gives them the right to operate in Harmar when assisting with federal detentions.
âDo I like it? No,â he said. âMy guys arenât even allowed to leave the town. If they need to eat something and we donât have it in the town, they have to bring it in a brown bag.â
Marroquin didnât get involved in local politics until the Cordova Flores arrest earlier this year. Though her husband now has American citizenship, Marroquin, who is white, fears it wonât shield him from all trouble with immigration agents, and the couple has agreed he wonât drive through Springdale while the 287(g) is in place.
Opposition leads to arrests
Protests erupted in the weeks after Cordova Floresâ arrest, including one that prompted a passing ICE supporter to stop his car and confront protester Ian Hill, of Springdale, who was holding a stick. The ICE supporter punched a different protester. published by TribLIVE shows Hill neither striking nor being struck.
Hill was nearly three months after the incident.
Hill was also charged with terroristic threats for statements he posted on social media. All the charges were later dropped.
Days before Hill was charged and jailed, Springdale police forcefully arrested resident William âDannyâ Rosenmund from the speakerâs podium during an April 21 public meeting. Rosenmund, a regular public speaker, had repeatedly questioned Springdaleâs agreement with ICE since it was brokered in late 2025 and criticized borough officials for authorizing it without a public vote.
Harris said he isnât versed enough to say whether the law would require a vote in public.
âWhat seems to me is clear is that it should have been public anyway,â he said, pointing to the need to build trust with residents given the heightened scrutiny over immigration enforcement since President Donald Trumpâs second term.
âPolice work has to have the communityâs support,â he added.
Rosenmund was speaking about policing issues and criticizing what he described as a lack of transparency when he was pulled from the podium and taken to the ground by Springdale officers. Rosenmund faces seven criminal charges, including resisting arrest and two felony charges of aggravated assault. His hearing was deferred refuting the boroughâs claim he spoke beyond his allotted three minutes.
Vibrations without representation
Norman DeLay tried to speak at a Springdale council meeting.
DeLay, 57, said he moved to Cheswick for a peaceful life after a long military career that led him into âevery major U.S. conflict since the Panama invasionâ in 1989.
The boundary line separating Cheswick and Springdale runs along South Duquesne Avenue, the quiet cul-de-sac where DeLay lives with his wife and daughters. On the Cheswick side, a row of neat ranch homes perch behind trimmed green lawns. On the Springdale side sits the 50-acre lot now slated for the data center.
DeLayâs time as an Army Ranger brought on post-traumatic stress disorder thatâs sometimes triggered by fireworks and other loud noises. From his porch, though, he takes comfort in the wildlife that graze and flitter through the former industrial site where a quilt of grassy undergrowth has returned since the power plantâs demolition. He and his daughters have pet names for the deer â Thelma and Louise â and the three crows â Huey, Lewy and Dewy â that stop by most evenings.
âItâs something that you donât want to lose, you know?â
DeLay said he went to a council meeting last fall to voice his opposition to the plans, but was told he couldnât speak because heâs not a Springdale resident.
Now heâs looking to uproot his family and settle in rural Tennessee.
âI moved here because I have PTSD,â he said. ââŠIâm hoping to be out of here before they build it.â
Tyler Bonatesta, 31, bought his parentsâ former home in Cheswick with plans to raise a family there.
âI imagined being outside with our kid,â he said. âWe had a large yard. You could catch a baseball outside.â
Like DeLay, he was concerned when he heard about the data center and attempted to speak at council but was turned away.
âItâs crazy to me that we couldnât have any say in it,â Bonatesta said.
Bonatesta said his biggest concerns were with the noise and the possible health consequences of living near a data center. He said he couldnât be sure what the actual impacts would be until the center is online, but by that point it could be too late.
âItâs too big of a risk and weâre essentially being forced out of our home.â
After the vote in December, he and his wife, Danielle, decided to put their house on the market, and they accepted an offer in July.
Local tempests, broader ripples
âAll of these impacts are regional, but the authority is municipal,â said Courtney Ehrlichman, executive director of CONNECT. âThose things donât stop at the borough line, but the public comment does ⊠You can live 400 feet from a project and have no standing or live a mile away and be able to speak.â
CONNECT is a nonprofit that builds collaboration between Pittsburgh and 41 other Allegheny County municipalities.
Ehrlichman said the participation gap isnât the fault of any municipality specifically but pointed to a regional problem with the emergence of data centers that create new challenges for older zoning codes.
âIf the decision-making unit is smaller than the impact zone, thereâs always someone who is left out of the room.â
As a volunteer firefighter at Frazer VFD, DeLay said heâs routinely called to emergency scenes in Springdale through their mutual aid agreement. This is just one example of how the communities are intertwined, he said.
âItâs kind of like a three-legged stool,â DeLay said of Springdale, Cheswick and Harmar. âYouâre not gonna be able to stand with just two legs.â
Boroughâs foes converge
As the first approved data center plan in Allegheny County, the Springdale project has drawn interest and concern from across the region. The SAVE group meets weekly at From Italy, a pizza shop tucked away on the townâs eastern tip painted in green, white and orange blocks. The meetings, where around 30 regulars gather most weeks, have attracted researchers from the University of Pittsburgh and a former Upper Burrell commissioner concerned about the data center planned in his township. One of the leaders, Tom Bailey, lives across the river in Penn Hills.
âI do hope that by being vocal, we can help other communities prepare for data centers or fight against them if need be,â Lang said.
Since the council approval in December, SAVE has turned to Allegheny County, which must approve a land development plan for the data center and grant it various permits.
âI donât think they thought that Springdale would fight back,â said Cathy Mager, a lifelong Springdale resident and a SAVE member who hopes to find a way to thwart the data center before construction begins.
The 15 or so residents at Springdale councilâs July 21 meeting were split about evenly among SAVE and Indivisible members. Marroquin, who attended, said Indivisible Allegheny Valley was founded to protest the 287(g) agreement and support locals who may feel at risk from ICE, but her strategy has shifted toward better governance, which she said underscores all their efforts.
âWe are going to try to do things not just for the vulnerable community, but just for the community as a whole,â she said.
One speaker, Brittany Jackson, said a lack of clarity around ICE and policing made her feel unsafe as a person of color.
âWe want transparency,â Jackson said. âI donât feel safe because I donât know what is going on.â
Two others asked the borough to livestream meetings so more people can tune in.
âItâs 2026. If weâre gonna be doing transparency and putting everything online, a livestream is really easy to do,â said Kaitlin Mueller.
Patrick Bono, Springdalesâs new manager, said he is updating the website and will be making public reports and meeting minutes more accessible.
âIâm working on that goal of transparency for you and for everyone in the borough,â he said, addressing Jackson.
Before public comment, Council President Mike Ziencik said there had been discussion about lifting the three-minute limit on public comment. For now, though, the green LED clock atop the dais starts ticking once the mic is engaged.
âWe will not interrupt you, we will not look at you like you have a third eyeball,â Ziencik said. âWe will give you your full three minutes.â
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