On the evening of September 19, 2025, a peaceful vigil outside the Broadview ICE Processing Center in Illinois erupted into chaos and controversy—a moment now reverberating far beyond Chicago’s city limits. Reverend David Black, the senior pastor at First Presbyterian Church of Chicago, attended the protest as he had many times before, standing in prayer with arms outstretched, a visible symbol of faith and resistance. But this night, captured in a now-viral video, would change everything: ICE agents stationed on the rooftop fired pepper balls into the crowd, striking Black in the head and sending him to his knees.
The video, shot by activist Kelly Hayes and widely shared on social media, shows Black in his preacher’s garb, arms raised in a traditional posture of blessing. As he faces the masked federal officers above, a sudden barrage of pepper balls is unleashed. "Without any warning, and without any order or request that I and others disperse, I was suddenly fired upon by ICE officers. In rapid fire, I was hit seven times on my arms, face and torso with exploding pellets that contained some kind of chemical agent. It was clear to me that the officers were aiming for my head, which they struck twice," Black recounted in a statement provided through the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) of Illinois. The footage shows a puff of white smoke as a pellet bursts against his head, and Black collapsing in pain, clutching his face.
Black was far from alone that night. Other clergy—including Unitarian minister Beth Johnson and United Methodist pastor Hannah Kardon—were also fired upon without warning as they stood singing traditional protest songs, according to the lawsuit now filed in federal court. Journalists, too, found themselves in the line of fire. Stephanie Lulay, executive editor of Block Club Chicago, confirmed that four reporters and freelancers were struck by pepper balls or exposed to tear gas while covering the demonstration. "Our ability to do our work continues to be impacted by fears of violence and arrests," she said.
By October 8, the video had gone viral, sparking outrage and debate across the country. Black’s actions—standing in silent prayer, inviting ICE agents to repentance, and offering what he described as an “altar call”—became a flashpoint in the national conversation about protest, policing, and the rights enshrined in the First Amendment. "I invited them to repentance," Black told Religion News Service. "I basically offered an altar call. I invited them to come and receive that salvation, and be part of the kingdom that is coming." Yet, as he later alleged, ICE agents laughed as they fired on him, a moment he and his supporters see as a clear attempt to silence dissent.
The legal battle that followed was swift and sweeping. On October 6, the ACLU of Illinois announced that Black had joined 10 other plaintiffs—including clergy, journalists, and media organizations—in a lawsuit accusing the Trump administration and top officials, including President Donald Trump and Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, of violating their First Amendment rights. The suit details a pattern of “extreme brutality” and “a blatant attempt to interfere with the most cherished and fundamental rights enshrined in the First Amendment,” including freedom of speech, religion, and the press. Plaintiffs are seeking an emergency injunction to halt the use of chemical agents and “less-lethal” weapons like pepper balls and flash grenades against peaceful demonstrators.
But federal officials have offered a starkly different account of what transpired. Tricia McLaughlin, Assistant Secretary of Public Affairs for the Department of Homeland Security, took to the social platform X on October 8 to defend the actions of ICE officers. "What this clipped video doesn’t show is that these agitators were blocking an ICE vehicle from leaving the federal facility—impeding operations," McLaughlin wrote. She asserted that law enforcement repeatedly ordered protesters to move off federal property and warned them that force would be used if they did not comply. "They did not comply," she added, further claiming that, after the incident, "rioters" began throwing rocks, bottles, and fireworks at officers on the roof.
McLaughlin’s statement went further, describing the protesters as “non-compliant” and labeling the facility’s detainees as "criminal illegal aliens," including violent offenders. "Obstructing law enforcement puts officers, detainees and the public at risk. If you are obstructing law enforcement you can expect to be met with force," she declared. She also accused Black of making obscene gestures toward Secretary Noem and DHS staff during a prior visit—an allegation that Black has not publicly addressed.
The Trump administration’s broader defense, echoed in official statements and in court, is that Black and his fellow plaintiffs are attempting to "dictate crowd-control policy in ways that would tie the hands of federal law enforcement officers." Online supporters of the administration have dismissed Black as an "antifa" agitator, rather than a peaceful religious leader.
Yet for many, the images from that September night—and the testimony of those who were there—tell a different story. The lawsuit alleges that federal agents used tear gas, pepper balls, and flash grenades not just to disperse a crowd, but to intimidate and silence both demonstrators and the press. The ACLU and its partners argue that the deployment of federal forces to cities like Chicago this summer, ostensibly to deter crime and enforce immigration laws, has instead resulted in the violent suppression of lawful protest and press activity.
As the legal process unfolds, the stakes are high. The plaintiffs are not just seeking compensation or a public apology—they want a federal court to step in and restrict the use of chemical agents and “less-lethal” weapons against peaceful demonstrators. Their case is now a flashpoint in the ongoing debate over protest rights, policing, and the limits of federal authority during times of social unrest.
For Reverend Black, the ordeal has become both a personal trial and a public stand. His story—praying in the face of armed agents, struck down while offering a blessing—has galvanized supporters across faith and activist communities. The viral video, the lawsuit, and the fierce arguments on both sides ensure that the events outside the Broadview ICE facility will not fade quietly into the background of America’s turbulent political landscape.
The coming months will test not only the strength of the plaintiffs’ case, but the nation’s commitment to the freedoms of speech, religion, and the press—rights that, for one Chicago pastor and many others, are worth standing for, even in the face of force.
