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In Los Angeles, a series of federal prosecutions tied to anti‑ICE demonstrations has collapsed under the weight of its own inconsistencies. In recent weeks, judges quietly dismissed multiple cases after revelations that federal agents had given misleading or outright false testimony. What began as an attempt to make examples of protesters has become a cautionary tale about government overreach, credibility, and the fragile boundary between enforcement and abuse of authority.False Testimony and Embarrassing Dismissals According to court records reviewed by The Guardian and other outlets, Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents, along with allied federal officers, made claims under oath that prosecutors could not substantiate. In some instances, defense attorneys demonstrated that the alleged crimes simply did not occur as described. In others, the physical evidence contradicted sworn statements. The Department of Justice, facing mounting pressure and accusations of misconduct, opted to dismiss several cases rather than risk further embarrassment in open court.For the defendants—most of whom were young activists swept up in demonstrations against deportations—the turnaround was dramatic. Only months ago, prosecutors had threatened lengthy prison sentences. Today, many of those same individuals walk free, their records cleared, though not without the lasting scars of arrest, detention, and public vilification.A Pattern of Aggressive Enforcement Legal experts note that this is not an isolated episode. In recent years, the federal government has leaned heavily on immigration enforcement as a means to quell dissent, particularly in cities such as Los Angeles, Portland, and New York. The collapse of these cases, critics argue, reveals a deeper pattern: aggressive charges built on shaky evidence, designed to discourage protest and silence opposition to ICE raids.“The real message here is deterrence,” said one civil rights attorney involved in the cases. “Federal prosecutors wanted to send a signal to anyone who dared challenge ICE in the streets. But when their evidence was scrutinized, it fell apart.”Human Toll on Protesters For those arrested, the legal battles left emotional and financial scars. Some protesters lost jobs while awaiting trial. Others faced family separations and months of uncertainty. One activist, who asked not to be named, described the ordeal as “a punishment without conviction,” saying the process itself was meant to grind people down even if the government could not secure guilty verdicts.The dropped charges offer relief but not restitution. There is little recourse for the time lost, the reputations damaged, or the fear instilled by armed federal officers storming city streets.Wider Implications for Justice and Immigration Policy The unraveling of these cases lands at a politically charged moment. Immigration enforcement remains one of the most polarizing issues in American life, with ICE conducting large‑scale raids, expanding detention facilities, and facing nationwide protests. The federal government’s decision to pursue questionable prosecutions—and then to retreat once their foundation crumbled—raises pressing questions about accountability.What does it mean for a democracy when sworn testimony by federal officers cannot be trusted? How can the public distinguish legitimate law enforcement from politically motivated intimidation? These are not abstract questions. They shape the relationship between immigrant communities, activist networks, and the institutions tasked with enforcing the law.Calls for Oversight and Reform Advocacy groups in California are now calling for an independent review of the prosecutions. Organizations such as the ACLU and immigrant rights coalitions argue that without accountability, there is nothing to stop similar abuses in the future. They point to the need for stronger oversight of ICE, clearer standards for federal testimony, and protection for those exercising their constitutional right to protest.Meanwhile, some lawmakers have begun pressing for hearings. A small group of California representatives have requested a formal inquiry into the conduct of the agents involved. Whether these calls will gain traction in Washington remains uncertain, but the pressure is unlikely to fade.The Broader Narrative The Los Angeles dismissals are part of a larger national narrative: the tension between immigration enforcement and civil liberties. From Portland to El Paso, ICE has been at the center of controversy—not only for its handling of detainees but also for its aggressive posture toward critics. The collapse of these cases underscores the fragility of federal claims when tested against the standard of evidence.It is a reminder that, in the rush to prosecute, the government is not infallible. The courts, flawed as they may be, remain one of the few arenas where truth can be forced into the light.

Federal Cases Against Los Angeles Protesters Collapse Amid False Testimony

How deploying thousands of U.S. troops to the southern border blurs lines between national defense and domestic enforcement—and why it matters more than ever.&nbsp; The U.S.–Mexico border has long been a flashpoint for political debate, policy experiments, and human drama. But a quiet expansion of military presence—reported this week by the Associated Press—raises new concerns about the erosion of civil liberties and the militarization of immigration enforcement.As of this writing, over 7,600 active-duty troops and National Guard members are stationed along the southern border. That’s more than double the number deployed just two years ago. Though officials claim the military’s role is merely “supportive,” critics say this creeping escalation puts the nation on a dangerous path—where immigration enforcement looks more like military occupation.&nbsp; A Military Surge in Civilian Clothes The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) and Customs and Border Protection (CBP) insist that these troops are not arresting migrants or carrying out detentions. Their stated role is “logistical support”: helping with surveillance, vehicle repairs, and barrier construction.But reporting from the AP and Washington Post paints a murkier picture. Troops are now routinely conducting border surveillance, flying drones, and helping funnel migrants toward CBP checkpoints. Some are stationed at holding facilities. Others help erect razor-wire barricades or install anti-pedestrian fencing.While technically not authorized to make arrests, these soldiers’ very presence sends a chilling message—to immigrants and citizens alike. When people in uniform patrol your community, it ceases to feel like a sanctuary. It starts to feel like a zone of conflict.&nbsp; Where Does Posse Comitatus Stand? The Posse Comitatus Act of 1878 prohibits the use of the U.S. military in domestic law enforcement without explicit Congressional approval. But in recent years, administrations from both parties have sidestepped this principle—first under the guise of the “war on drugs,” and now under the banner of immigration control.Today’s deployments are justified as “border support missions,” technically avoiding the act’s enforcement restrictions. But legal scholars and civil rights watchdogs warn this is a loophole fast becoming a pipeline. Soldiers may not be making arrests, but their integration into immigration operations places them dangerously close to violating the spirit—if not the letter—of the law.&nbsp; Blurring the Lines Between Foreign and Domestic Threats This isn’t just a legal debate—it’s a cultural shift. The language around border policy increasingly adopts the vocabulary of national defense: “threat deterrence,” “mission readiness,” “tactical response.” And in doing so, we’re conditioning Americans to accept war-like tactics in domestic civilian spaces.That normalization is a slippery slope. What begins as surveillance in Texas today could justify curfews, facial recognition scans, or even detainment zones tomorrow. Once the military becomes a routine part of domestic policing, it’s hard to draw a line in the sand—or unring the bell.&nbsp; Humanitarian Fallout: What’s at Stake Beyond the legal framework, the human cost is mounting.Refugees, asylum seekers, and families fleeing violence are now met with the optics of combat. For many, this reinforces trauma—turning what should be a legal process of humanitarian intake into a high-stakes confrontation. Organizations like the ACLU and Human Rights Watch have flagged rising reports of families sleeping in makeshift conditions, enduring intimidation, and even avoiding seeking asylum entirely for fear of militarized response.Meanwhile, the line between supporting roles and active enforcement continues to blur. National Guard troops, for instance, are now present at migrant processing centers and search-and-rescue operations, indirectly participating in the very procedures Posse Comitatus sought to prevent.&nbsp; A Policy With Deep Local Consequences At the community level, this shift is already producing ripple effects.Local economies reliant on migrant labor report workforce shortages as would-be workers avoid travel. Towns near the border have seen rising tensions and a breakdown in trust between residents and law enforcement. Parents are pulling children from school. Clinics report drop-offs in immigrant patients seeking care.Even tourism is down in some areas, with visitors wary of “military presence” in what used to be safe, multicultural towns.&nbsp; Where Do We Go From Here? The path forward isn’t simple—but it is urgent.Reining in military overreach starts with restoring civilian oversight. Congress must revisit the scope of border mission authorizations and demand transparency on troop duties and jurisdiction.Next, immigration reform must shift from a reactive, punitive framework to a humane, scalable strategy. That includes investing in trained immigration officers—not soldiers—along with asylum processing centers that resemble courtrooms, not holding cells.And finally, Americans must resist the slow creep of militarization in domestic policy. Civil liberties do not end at the border. They begin there.&nbsp; Conclusion: Guarding the Guardians America’s founding promise hinges on the idea that power must be checked, and that the military should never act as a domestic enforcer. When soldiers line our borders not to protect against foreign invasion—but to police impoverished families fleeing terror—we must ask: who are we really protecting, and at what cost?The militarization of immigration is not a partisan issue. It is a democratic one. And it demands not just oversight—but outcry.&nbsp; Stay informed. Speak up. Because once the line between soldier and officer vanishes, it rarely reappears without a fight.

The Militarization of the Border: When Immigration Policy Crosses the Line

In the stands, it started with a banner: “No One Is Illegal.” Then came chants. Then arrests. Now, Major League Soccer (MLS) is drawing a hard line—one that some say silences the very communities that built the league.This week, MLS Commissioner Don Garber reaffirmed the league’s longstanding ban on “political signage” at matches, insisting the policy is about fan safety and unity—not censorship. But in a season already marked by record deportation raids and a charged national debate over immigration enforcement, that explanation isn’t sitting well with a growing number of supporters, particularly in cities like Los Angeles, Houston, and New York.They see the ban not as neutral groundkeeping—but as complicity.&nbsp; A League Built on Immigrant Fans Now Quieting Their Voices Soccer in the United States has never existed in a vacuum. From its earliest days, MLS clubs like LAFC, Chivas USA, and D.C. United built their identities on immigrant communities. Spanish-language chants, food trucks parked outside stadium gates, and players from Central and South America were not just window dressing—they were the foundation.So when fans unfurled signs reading “Abolish ICE” or “Stop Deportations Now” in the wake of high-profile raids in Los Angeles and Chicago, it was deeply personal.Yet those same messages have now drawn sanctions.At a recent LA Galaxy match, three fans were ejected for displaying a handmade sign referencing the now-infamous ICE facility in Adelanto, California. In Austin, security reportedly confiscated t-shirts with the phrase “Families Belong Together.”Garber, when asked about the ban, called it “a longstanding and nonpartisan policy.” The league’s official stance is that politics have no place in sports stadiums. But for many, that position is untenable.As one LAFC supporter, who asked to remain anonymous, told The Guardian:“My cousin was detained in a raid last month. You’re telling me I can’t hold a sign about that, at a match in our city, watching a team built by and for people like us?” &nbsp; The Clash Between Free Speech and Private Policy Legally, MLS is on solid ground. Stadiums are private venues, and the league can enforce codes of conduct at its discretion. But morally and culturally, it’s wading into treacherous waters.Fan collectives across the country have started pushing back. The “Black and Gold Independent Supporters Union” in Los Angeles issued a public letter last week demanding MLS reconsider its ban in cases where political expression intersects with human rights. Other groups are threatening boycotts of merch sales, watch parties, and even ticket renewals.Meanwhile, smaller clubs in the USL and NWSL—like Oakland Roots and Angel City FC—have taken the opposite tack. They’ve embraced activism, encouraged voter registration drives, and openly criticized ICE activity near training facilities.The result? A stark contrast between leagues.&nbsp; The ICE Raids Behind the Outrage This isn’t happening in a vacuum. Over the past six weeks, ICE has ramped up removal operations in cities across the U.S., including Los Angeles, Miami, and New York. Dozens of undocumented workers were detained at construction sites, bus terminals, and even during routine traffic stops. In one particularly egregious case, a former Afghan interpreter for U.S. forces was arrested during a green card interview and sent to detention in Massachusetts.These stories ripple through MLS stadiums, whose audiences are majority Latino in many markets.Suppressing expression in those venues, many argue, only deepens the disconnect between the league’s messaging—“Soccer for All”—and the lived reality of its fans.&nbsp; Can Sports Be Apolitical in 2025? That’s the uncomfortable question at the heart of this story. In a polarized America, where immigration raids are livestreamed and deportations make national headlines, can any space—let alone a sports arena—truly remain neutral?MLS appears determined to try. But whether fans will go along quietly remains to be seen.In a sport defined by community, identity, and pride, silencing voices may not protect the league. It may alienate the very people who made it possible.&nbsp; Want to stay updated on stories like this one? Subscribe to our Daily ICE Newsletter for the 7 most important immigration and civil rights headlines—straight to your inbox, every day. No hype. Just facts.

⚽ No Signs of Dissent: MLS Clamps Down on Political Speech as Fans Protest ICE Raids

In the chilled predawn hours of June 6th, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents swept across greater Los Angeles in one of the largest immigration raids the region has seen in a decade. Nearly 2,000 individuals were taken into custody within 36 hours. The official narrative? A targeted campaign to “remove the worst of the worst.” But behind the bulletproof rhetoric lies a troubling truth: the vast majority of those arrested had no criminal record at all.According to a Los Angeles Times investigation, more than two-thirds of the detainees apprehended during the June sweep had no prior convictions—not for violent crimes, not for theft, not even for misdemeanors. They were cooks. Construction laborers. Mothers leaving for school drop-off. Day laborers waiting for work. Students on their way to class. And they were swept up not because they posed a danger, but because they happened to be undocumented.A Strategy at Odds With Its Justification On the campaign trail and since retaking office, President Trump has repeated the phrase “the worst of the worst” like a mantra, using it to justify a dramatic increase in immigration enforcement. "We're targeting gang members, drug dealers, and criminals," he said in a televised address earlier this year.But data obtained by reporters and reviewed by immigrant advocacy groups reveals a far different picture. The arrests made in Los Angeles were not narrowly focused operations against violent offenders. They were broad, often indiscriminate raids that frequently relied on racial profiling and neighborhood sweeps.“These are not MS-13 gang members,” said Marisol Chávez, legal director for the Central American Legal Assistance Foundation. “They’re parents trying to get their kids to school. They’re the people who serve your food, who clean your buildings. They are embedded in the very fabric of this city.”Human Collateral Take the case of Rosalía H.—a 47-year-old single mother from El Salvador. She has no criminal record. She’s worked in a garment factory for the past 12 years, pays her taxes using an ITIN (Individual Taxpayer Identification Number), and volunteers at her church. She was detained while dropping off her 8-year-old son at school. There was no warrant presented. No time to call a lawyer. She was held for 11 days before being transferred to a facility in Arizona.Her story is not unique. Attorneys across Southern California report a flood of similar cases: undocumented immigrants arrested for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, held without bond hearings, and pressured into signing voluntary deportation orders without fully understanding their rights.The Broader Implications The moral implications are deeply troubling. But so are the logistical and financial consequences. Detaining thousands of non-criminal immigrants clogs an already overwhelmed immigration court system. It diverts law enforcement resources away from actual criminal investigations. And it creates fear in entire communities—fear that makes people less likely to report crimes, seek healthcare, or enroll their children in school.Local officials in L.A., including Mayor Karen Bass, have condemned the tactics. “These raids do not make our city safer,” she said in a statement. “They tear apart families and destabilize communities.”The fear is not abstract. In the weeks following the raids, Los Angeles County health clinics saw a 19% drop in patient visits in neighborhoods heavily targeted by ICE. School absenteeism rose. Domestic violence reports fell—not because abuse stopped, but because victims were afraid to involve authorities.Legal Backlash Mounts Civil rights organizations have begun filing lawsuits to challenge the legality of the raids, citing violations of due process and Fourth Amendment protections against unlawful search and seizure. In one class-action suit filed by the ACLU, attorneys argue that ICE failed to produce valid warrants in at least 38% of arrests made during the June sweep.Judges are beginning to push back. In late July, a federal judge in Pasadena issued a temporary injunction preventing ICE from conducting “non-targeted raids” in Los Angeles County without judicial review. That case could have national implications as it moves through the appellate system.A Crisis of Credibility What emerges from this story is not just a portrait of governmental overreach, but a profound crisis of credibility. When public officials claim to be removing dangerous criminals but end up arresting housekeepers and students, trust erodes—both in law enforcement and in the institutions meant to protect civil liberties.“This isn’t about enforcing the law anymore,” said César Martínez, a former ICE agent turned whistleblower. “It’s about optics. It’s about fear.”For communities already living in the margins, the consequences are shattering. And for the rest of us, the question is simple and urgent: if they can do this to the voiceless, how long before they come for the rest of us?

The ICE Myth: When the “Worst of the Worst” Are Mothers, Workers, and Students

n the pre-dawn hours of July 20th, 2025, Thongxay Nilakout, a 56-year-old man convicted of a decades-old crime, was quietly deported from a California ICE detention center to South Sudan—a country he had never known, in a transfer that defied a federal judge’s ruling, ignored urgent appeals from his lawyers, and violated international law, according to immigration advocates.For his victim’s daughter, Yia Lee, the news came as a shock. “He deserved to face the consequences of what he did. But not like this. Not outside the rule of law,” she said in an interview. “They took justice away from all of us.”Nilakout’s removal is now at the center of a growing firestorm over the federal government’s increasingly aggressive immigration enforcement tactics. Critics say the deportation—carried out in defiance of a federal court stay—illustrates how ICE has become a rogue agency, unchecked by the judiciary, and increasingly dismissive of human rights, international law, and due process.&nbsp; A Legal Gray Zone Becomes a Black Hole Thongxay Nilakout, a Laotian immigrant, was convicted of a homicide in the 1990s and served 28 years in prison. Upon his release earlier this year, he was immediately transferred to ICE custody. But deporting him wasn’t so simple. Nilakout’s family had fled Laos during the Vietnam War. He had no passport. His legal team argued that he was effectively stateless.What followed was a complex legal fight. A federal immigration judge issued a stay on his deportation in early June. Yet, according to his attorneys, ICE moved forward with the removal anyway—bypassing procedural safeguards, denying Nilakout access to counsel in the final hours, and ignoring pleas from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees to delay.“This was not just a mistake,” said Naomi Chen, an immigration attorney with the International Human Rights Initiative. “This was an act of willful defiance. ICE ignored a lawful court order. They took the law into their own hands.”&nbsp; A Daughter's Call for Rule of Law Yia Lee, who was just a child when her mother was killed, has lived with the trauma for most of her life. Yet she now finds herself defending the very man who shattered her family.“I believe in consequences, but I also believe in the Constitution,” she said. “If the courts said he shouldn’t be deported yet, then no one—not ICE, not anyone—should have had the power to override that.”Lee’s stance is not about forgiveness, she explains. It’s about principle. “If they can do this to him, they can do this to anyone,” she added. “And they are.”Her fears are not unfounded.&nbsp; Pattern of Abuse or Isolated Incident? Legal scholars and watchdog organizations say the Nilakout case is emblematic of a troubling trend under the current administration, where immigration enforcement has taken precedence over due process.Recent data obtained by The Guardian and ProPublica reveals that at least 72 deportations in the past year occurred despite pending legal appeals. In several of these cases, individuals were removed from the country while their cases were still under judicial review—a violation of federal immigration law and due process norms.“This administration has made no secret of its zero-tolerance policy,” said Dr. Ramon Estevez, a constitutional law expert at Georgetown University. “But when law enforcement starts disregarding the law to enforce the law, you don’t have a policy problem—you have a constitutional crisis.”&nbsp; Human Rights Implications In deporting Nilakout to South Sudan, ICE may have also violated international human rights agreements. Nilakout is Laotian. He has never lived in South Sudan. Legal experts say his transfer to a country with which he had no legal or familial ties not only strips him of national identity—it also may place him at risk of persecution or harm.The United Nations has condemned “proxy deportations” in similar cases. “This sets a dangerous precedent,” said Linda Ortez, regional director for the UNHCR. “Countries cannot simply offload stateless or undocumented individuals into unfamiliar nations without agreements or protections.”&nbsp; A Country Divided Over Justice The Nilakout case arrives at a time when the country is increasingly polarized over immigration policy. Advocates argue that mass deportations, secret raids, and detention without oversight have become normalized. Detractors accuse ICE of operating with impunity—often targeting non-citizens who have already served their sentences or pose no immediate threat.“It’s one thing to enforce immigration law,” said Ortez. “It’s another to trample over people’s rights while doing it.”The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) has filed an emergency petition demanding a full investigation into Nilakout’s removal. “This is no longer just a question of immigration,” said ACLU attorney Marco Villanueva. “It’s a question of whether law and justice still matter in this country.”&nbsp; The Bigger Picture At its core, the story of Thongxay Nilakout is not only about one man, one deportation, or even one victim’s family. It is about whether due process—a founding principle of American democracy—still protects the people it was designed to serve.For Yia Lee, it is about something more personal.“I never wanted vengeance,” she said. “I wanted justice. And now, I feel like that’s been stolen too.”

Deported Without Due Process: A Daughter’s Fight for Justice in America’s Immigration Courts

Los Angeles is bracing for what organizers are calling a “Summer of Resistance,” and the movement is about to hit a crescendo.On August 12, a coalition of immigrant rights groups, labor unions, educators, and faith leaders will launch a citywide strike to protest recent ICE raids and the broader climate of fear gripping immigrant communities across Southern California.This isn’t just another protest. It’s a coordinated, multi-pronged act of civil resistance, deeply rooted in the political and cultural soil of this city. The organizers are serious, the participants are mobilizing, and the message is unequivocal: Enough is enough.&nbsp; ICE Has Returned — and People Are Watching For weeks now, ICE agents have been quietly ramping up operations in and around Los Angeles. Unlike the loud and theatrical raids of past years, these new actions are calculated and discreet. Day-laborer corners in Van Nuys. Parking lots in East L.A. Home Depot entrances in Inglewood. All targeted. All documented.Community members say agents have been operating in unmarked vehicles, some wearing masks, others refusing to identify themselves. It’s not hard to see why tensions have spiked.“We’ve had enough of unaccountable enforcement in our neighborhoods,” said Angelica Salas, executive director of the Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights of Los Angeles (CHIRLA). “This is about restoring dignity, safety, and due process.”CHIRLA is leading the August 12 effort, backed by SEIU Local 721, United Teachers Los Angeles, and dozens of grassroots organizers. Their goals: protest the raids, educate vulnerable communities, and demand accountability from both local and federal agencies.&nbsp; A Different Kind of Protest What makes this upcoming strike different is its scale and structure. It’s not just about marching. It’s not just about holding signs. This is a full-day action designed to combine public protest, civic outreach, and economic pressure.Community monitors will be stationed at high-traffic areas—transportation hubs, grocery stores, and work sites—distributing “know your rights” literature in Spanish, English, Mandarin, and Tagalog.Workplaces across the city are preparing for walkouts. Teachers plan to hold school-based discussions about civil liberties. Religious leaders will open churches and temples as legal aid and information centers.One group of volunteers will even operate a mobile hotline to report ICE sightings in real time, a tactic borrowed from grassroots campaigns in 2018 and 2020.“We’re not just reacting,” said Luz Navarro, a labor organizer with SEIU. “We’re organizing. We’re building something bigger than a one-day protest. This is about protecting people who have been targeted for far too long.”&nbsp; A Flashpoint Moment This strike comes amid a surge in deportations nationally. According to federal data, ICE is on pace to remove more than 300,000 people in 2025—the highest number since the Obama administration’s peak in 2014.But the statistics only tell part of the story. What’s happening on the ground feels different.In some neighborhoods, parents are afraid to take their children to school. Construction workers are avoiding job sites. Seniors are skipping doctor appointments. The fear is ambient—and it’s real.This is the lived experience of immigration enforcement in Los Angeles. And on August 12, that experience will be turned outward for all to see.&nbsp; The Intersection of Labor and Migration It’s not a coincidence that some of the city’s largest unions are backing this strike. The connection between immigration enforcement and economic exploitation runs deep in Los Angeles.Workers without papers—housekeepers, gardeners, cooks, caregivers—are vulnerable to abuse. Many won’t report wage theft or unsafe conditions for fear that a phone call to HR could lead to a knock on the door from ICE.“We understand this isn’t just an immigration issue. It’s a labor issue. It’s a human rights issue,” said Carla Estrada, president of United Teachers Los Angeles. “We’re not standing on the sidelines.”This kind of coalition—immigrants, union members, educators, clergy—has power. Political power. Economic power. Moral power. And it’s that power the August 12 strike aims to flex.&nbsp; What Comes Next? The organizers aren’t naïve. They know one strike won’t dismantle ICE or halt deportations. But they believe it can shift the narrative, ignite solidarity, and make it harder for these operations to happen in the shadows.They also hope to build momentum for legislation currently under review in Washington and Sacramento—including a bill that would prohibit federal agents from wearing masks or hiding their identities during civil immigration enforcement.Back in Boyle Heights, I spoke with a 19-year-old DACA recipient named Marco who plans to skip work on the day of the strike. He’s scared, but he’s going anyway.“If we don’t show up,” he told me, “they win.”&nbsp; On August 12, Los Angeles won’t be quiet. It won’t be passive. It won’t look away.It will resist—publicly, peacefully, and powerfully.And for a city built by immigrants, that’s not just protest. It’s tradition.

Los Angeles Prepares for a Summer of Resistance Against ICE Raids

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Federal Cases Against Los Angeles Protesters Collapse Ami...

The Militarization of the Border: When Immigration Policy...

⚽ No Signs of Dissent: MLS Clamps Down on Political Speec...

The ICE Myth: When the “Worst of the Worst” Are Mothers, ...

Deported Without Due Process: A Daughter’s Fight for Just...

Los Angeles Prepares for a Summer of Resistance Against I...