On June 11, 2025, a protest erupted outside a federal Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) facility in Spokane, Washington, after a social media post from former City Council president Ben Stuckart called for action. Stuckart’s post described how he had become the legal guardian of a young Venezuelan asylum seeker, who, despite complying with all paperwork and court dates, was detained and set for deportation. His message was clear: “I am going to sit in front of the bus. Feel free to join me.” Hundreds answered that call, including Bajun “Baji” Mavalwalla II, a 35-year-old former U.S. Army sergeant and Afghanistan war veteran.
The demonstration quickly turned tense. Protesters locked arms, physically blocked the driveway, and clashed with federal officers. The situation escalated, resulting in a smashed government van windshield and slashed tires. More than two dozen people were arrested at the scene, but Mavalwalla was not among them. Instead, he was briefly visible in a one-minute Instagram video, jostling with a masked officer before joining others to block the gate. He was injured by a rubber bullet during the confrontation, a detail that would later add to the controversy surrounding his arrest.
Over a month later, on July 15, 2025, the FBI arrived at Mavalwalla’s home at 6 a.m.—the very day he was set to move into a new 3,000-square-foot house with his girlfriend, a fellow Afghanistan war veteran and nurse. The house, purchased with a loan backed by the Department of Veterans Affairs, symbolized a new chapter for the couple. Instead, Mavalwalla found himself in handcuffs, his disbelief captured on cell phone footage as agents led him away. “This is not how I planned to spend my moving day,” he said. “I’m a military veteran. I’m an American citizen.”
Mavalwalla was charged with “conspiracy to impede or injure officers,” a federal offense carrying a maximum penalty of six years in prison, a $250,000 fine, and three years of supervised release. The indictment alleged that he and co-defendants “physically blocked the driveway of the federal facility and/or physically pushed against officers despite orders to disperse.” While some protesters were charged with assault or obstruction, Mavalwalla’s case stands out for its reliance on the broader, intent-focused conspiracy statute—a move that legal experts say signals a more aggressive approach to prosecuting dissent under the Trump administration.
“He’s a test case to see how far they can go,” Luis Miranda, former chief spokesperson for the Department of Homeland Security under Joe Biden, told The Guardian. Legal scholars point out that conspiracy charges require prosecutors only to demonstrate an agreement to impede officers, not necessarily direct action. Bruce Antkowiak, a former federal prosecutor, explained, “Intent must be proven, not direct action.” Robert Chang, a law professor at UC Irvine, warned that such prosecutions could chill free speech and protest rights under the First Amendment. Jennifer Chacón, a Stanford law professor, predicted increased social media monitoring to identify and charge protesters, a trend she expects to continue as ICE expands its deportation agenda.
Mavalwalla pleaded not guilty and has no prior criminal record. He was released on his own recognizance while awaiting trial, even allowed to travel to Disneyland for a planned family trip. His family and supporters, including fellow veterans, have rallied behind him, describing the charges as unfair and politically motivated. Kenneth Koop, a retired colonel who trained Afghan military and police during Mavalwalla’s deployment, expressed his frustration: “Here’s a guy who held a top secret clearance and was privy to some of the most sensitive information we have, who served in a combat zone. To see him treated like this really sticks in my craw.”
For Mavalwalla and his family, the protest and subsequent arrest are deeply personal. His father, Bajun Ray Mavalwalla, is a retired U.S. Army intelligence officer with three Bronze Stars from tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. He filmed part of his son’s arrest and later told Democracy Now!, “This whole event has been staged by the Trump administration. It’s unconscionable.” The elder Mavalwalla emphasized the family’s long tradition of military service, noting that both he and his late wife joined the Army in 1987, attended language school in Monterey, and served as electronic warfare specialists. Their son followed in their footsteps, joining the National Guard at 17, learning Japanese, and eventually leading a team in combat in Kandahar at just 23 years old.
The family’s commitment to non-violent protest is rooted in a much longer history. Mavalwalla II’s great-great-grand-uncle worked alongside Mahatma Gandhi in South Africa, and Gandhi himself was godfather to Mavalwalla’s great-grandmother. The family has preserved Gandhi’s burial shroud as a symbol of their dedication to peaceful activism. “Channel your inner Gandhi,” Mavalwalla’s mother texted him three days after the protest. His reply: “I know, mom. Always non-violence.”
Beyond his activism in the U.S., Mavalwalla has demonstrated a deep commitment to helping others. After the fall of Kabul, he used his military connections to help a translator escape the Taliban and worked tirelessly to support Afghans left behind. He located safe houses, arranged travel, and raised $130,000 to support at least 32 people, including securing visa applications and flights. “You cannot save the world,” he once told a volunteer. “It’s good to try though.”
The legal saga surrounding Mavalwalla is also marked by political turbulence. The acting U.S. attorney in Spokane, Richard Barker, resigned just two days before the indictment was handed down, calling his departure “a very difficult decision.” His replacement, Pete Serrano, is a former conservative litigator with no prior prosecutorial experience. Serrano has filed amicus briefs opposing birthright citizenship and has publicly referred to January 6 rioters as “political prisoners.” His nomination for permanent U.S. attorney has drawn opposition from Senator Patty Murray, who has pledged to block his confirmation.
Mavalwalla’s parents believe their son was racially profiled—a suspicion shaped by their own immigrant background. The elder Mavalwalla recounted, “My father left India at 19, floated six days across the Arabian Sea, nearly died, and was sponsored to come to the U.S.” The family’s journey, marked by sacrifice and a belief in America’s promise, now faces a test of its own.
For many observers, the case raises troubling questions about the boundaries of protest, the reach of federal conspiracy laws, and the direction of American democracy. As legal experts and veterans alike watch closely, Mavalwalla’s trial may set a precedent for how dissent is treated in the years to come. His story, rooted in service, sacrifice, and a legacy of non-violence, continues to unfold as the nation debates the meaning of protest and patriotism in turbulent times.