On a sunny Thursday morning in Los Angeles, Angel Rodrigo Minguela Palacios was focused on his daily routine—delivering strawberries to businesses across the city. For nearly a decade, Minguela had quietly built a life in the U.S., waking before dawn to support his partner and three children. But on August 14, 2025, as he unloaded boxes outside the Japanese American National Museum in Little Tokyo, his world changed in an instant. Unbeknownst to him, inside the museum, California Governor Gavin Newsom was holding a press conference to promote a Democratic redistricting plan, a direct response to a Trump-backed proposal in Texas (according to LAist and Los Angeles Times).
Outside, a show of force unfolded as dozens of U.S. Border Patrol agents—clad in camouflage, helmets, and black masks—massed near the museum. The agents, some visibly armed, were a stark presence in the bustling neighborhood. As the press conference began, the agents swept through the area, ultimately arresting Minguela, who had overstayed a tourist visa after fleeing violence in Mexico. He now faces deportation, his family left reeling by the abrupt separation (Los Angeles Times).
The timing and spectacle of the raid sparked immediate controversy. Governor Newsom and Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass both accused the Trump administration of using immigration enforcement as a tool of political intimidation. Newsom’s office formally requested information about the federal operation, and Bass’s office declared, “This raid was not a coincidence — it was a conscious effort by the federal government to politically intimidate the second largest city in the country” (LAist).
The Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights (CHIRLA) began investigating whether the Border Patrol’s actions violated a restraining order issued just a month earlier. That federal order, put in place on July 11, 2025, bans detentions based on racial profiling after a judge found that immigration officers had likely violated the constitutional rights of people detained in the L.A. area. Yet, enforcement actions—including the one that led to Minguela’s arrest—have continued since then (LAist).
Angelica Salas, CHIRLA’s executive director, called the operation a “racist roundup.” The day of the museum raid, federal agents also conducted an operation at a Monrovia Home Depot that resulted in the tragic death of a man who fled from agents and was struck by an SUV on the 210 Freeway (LAist).
Tricia McLaughlin, assistant secretary at the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), defended the agents’ presence, insisting that they “patrol ALL areas of Los Angeles every day” and that DHS is “focused on enforcing the law, not on [Newsom].” However, DHS declined to provide specifics about the arrests or clarify whether warrants had been issued, even after repeated requests by reporters (LAist, Los Angeles Times).
For Minguela, the arrest was a personal catastrophe. Speaking from behind plexiglass at the downtown L.A. federal detention center, he insisted, “One comes here to work, not commit crimes.” His employers, Martha and Isaias Franco, described him as an indispensable part of their business and family. “He’s part of our family. He’s one of us,” Martha Franco said as she waited in line to visit him at the detention center (Los Angeles Times).
The DHS narrative around the arrests shifted over the following days. Initially, officials claimed two “illegal aliens” were arrested near the Newsom event, including “an alleged Tren de Aragua gang member and narcotics trafficker.” When pressed for clarification, DHS ultimately confirmed that Minguela’s only offense was overstaying his visa—a civil, not criminal, matter (Los Angeles Times).
The spectacle of the Border Patrol’s presence in Little Tokyo, coinciding so closely with Newsom’s event, raised alarms among civil rights advocates and historians alike. Kelly Lytle Hernández, a UCLA professor of history, noted that the politicization of immigration enforcement in the U.S. is not new. “There’s always this very political edge to immigration control of trying to suppress speech or ideas that are unpopular in the United States,” she told LAist. She traced this pattern back to the earliest days of American immigration law, referencing the 1803 ban on “negro, mulatto, or other person of color” and the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, which made Los Angeles a “capital of Chinese incarceration and deportation.”
Indeed, the rhetoric used to justify harsh immigration enforcement today echoes language from the 19th century. An 1879 amendment to the California Constitution, for example, granted the legislature authority to regulate immigrants deemed “dangerous or detrimental to the well-being or peace of the State.” That amendment remained in place until 1952, despite evidence then—and now—that immigrants are less likely to commit crimes than native-born citizens. Studies by Stanford University and the Cato Institute continue to support this finding (LAist).
Despite President Trump’s repeated assertions that his administration targets “the worst of the worst” among immigrants, LAist’s analysis of ICE detention data reveals a different reality. Fewer than 30% of people detained in ICE facilities nationwide have been convicted of any crime, and in California, only about 18% detained since October 2024 had any criminal convictions.
For families like Minguela’s, the consequences are devastating. His partner, who asked not to be named for fear of retaliation, described how their world has shrunk as immigration raids intensified. Their children—ages 15, 12, and 7—have struggled to understand the sudden absence of their father, especially their youngest, who is autistic. The family had just celebrated Minguela’s 48th birthday days before his arrest. Now, their planned celebration for his partner’s birthday was canceled, replaced by daily questions from the children: When is papá coming home? (Los Angeles Times).
Minguela’s attorney, Alex Galvez, is seeking his release on bond, arguing that his client entered the country lawfully and is the family’s primary breadwinner. Galvez contends that Minguela’s arrest defied the federal judge’s order against racial profiling and was a “political opportunity” seized by authorities. “He was one of the two guys picked up right during Newsom’s press conference. They had to show something for it,” Galvez said (Los Angeles Times).
The broader community has rallied around those affected. Outside the detention center, families wait in long lines, clutching jackets and medications for their loved ones inside. Messages of defiance and hope—“Abolish ICE,” “Viva La Raza”—are scrawled in chalk on the pavement. For many, the fight to keep families together continues, even as the political battle over immigration enforcement rages on in the nation’s second largest city.
As Los Angeles grapples with these events, the city’s long, complicated history with immigration law and enforcement is once again in sharp relief. The debate over the role of federal agents, the use of raids as political theater, and the real human toll on families like the Minguelas’ is far from settled. For now, the question remains: just how far will the politics of immigration enforcement go—and who will bear the brunt of its consequences?
