The city of Washington, D.C., is no stranger to political theater, but the past weeks have brought a tense new act to its streets. As the Trump administration pushes forward with a massive expansion of federal law enforcement, the effects are rippling far beyond government offices and into the heart of the city’s cultural and economic life.
At the center of this storm is the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (FLETC) just outside Savannah, Georgia. According to ABC News, this sprawling facility is now preparing to train up to 10,000 new U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officers by the end of 2025, a cornerstone of the administration’s intensified deportation efforts. The urgency is palpable: classes run six days a week at four different sites around the country, and the process from security screening to street-ready officer can be as fast as eight weeks.
Acting ICE Director Todd Lyons, himself a 2007 FLETC graduate, exuded confidence about meeting this ambitious goal. “We are taking a whole of government approach,” Lyons told ABC News. “We have to be cognizant of who we are hiring, but I think it is an achievable goal.” The agency’s selectiveness is underscored by the sheer volume of interest—over 121,000 applications have poured in, giving ICE the luxury of being picky about recruits.
But speed is the name of the game. To shave precious days from the training regimen, ICE made the controversial decision to cut the Spanish language portion of training, opting instead to equip officers with Spanish language software for use in the field. Caleb Vitello, the former ICE Acting Director who now runs the training center, explained that this move helps the agency get new officers onto the streets faster. “The recruits here know the staff training them are professionals, and experts in the job they do,” Lyons insisted, standing outside the obstacle course where future agents are put through their paces.
It’s not just ICE officers in training at FLETC. The center also serves as a crucible for other federal agencies, including the Bureau of Prisons, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF), and the Transportation Security Administration (TSA). But it’s the ICE Special Operations Team—a 12-person elite tactical unit—who draw particular attention. ABC News reporters watched as the team practiced clearing a mock house, a drill for high-threat situations and warrant service. There’s one such team in every ICE field office nationwide, ready to be deployed when the stakes are highest.
Yet, even as the Trump administration touts its ramped-up enforcement, the reality on the ground in Washington, D.C., is far more complicated. The federal surge has brought a visible increase in law enforcement and National Guard troops, a move the administration says is necessary to "clean up the streets." But not everyone is convinced—especially those whose livelihoods depend on the city’s vibrant culture.
Drag performer Edwin Figueroa, known on stage as Bombalicious Eklaver, made headlines when he canceled a show at the Arlo Hotel on Sunday, August 24, 2025. The reason? Safety concerns amid the increased federal presence. “My top priorities are really safety and peace of mind for everyone,” Figueroa told local reporters. “We can always do a show in another venue for another day. I always come in drag and I never felt fear walking in drag but I don’t have that safety that I’m protected right now because I don’t really trust any authority.”
Figueroa’s decision wasn’t made in isolation. Other drag performers echoed similar fears, pointing to what they perceive as anti-LGBTQ+ policies and a growing mistrust of authorities. One performer, Horton, voiced a sense of unease: “I’m scared. There’s no trust about what’s happening right now. I don’t have rhyme or reason to understand what’s happening in front of me and that just worries me because in that same situation, I’m wondering what could happen to me.”
The uncertainty isn’t limited to the arts. D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser has openly questioned the necessity of the federalized law enforcement presence, noting that crime data actually shows a decline in the city. “You know the facts on the ground don’t support this,” Bowser told reporters on Monday. Despite these reassurances, performers like Figueroa and Horton are becoming more selective about which gigs to accept in the District, a shift that carries real economic consequences. “Taking gigs in D.C., I’m not as adamant as I once was,” Horton admitted. For many, canceling a show isn’t just about personal safety—it’s a direct hit to their livelihoods.
The ripple effects extend to the city’s restaurant industry as well. New data from OpenTable reveals a 25% drop in diners in the District since President Trump’s executive order initiated the federal takeover. For a city that prides itself on its culinary scene, this is no small blow. Business owners and performers alike are left wondering just how long this federalized city will last—and what the long-term consequences will be.
Meanwhile, back at FLETC, the atmosphere is a mix of urgency and caution. Lyons and Vitello both stressed that, despite the accelerated pace, they are determined not to compromise on the quality of new officers. The training academy’s expanded schedule, running classes six days a week, is a testament to just how high the stakes have become.
But there’s another, less visible change underway. ICE officers are now often seen wearing masks—not for health reasons, but to protect their identities. Lyons explained the rationale to ABC News: “You have this crazy rhetoric where people are calling for threats against ICE officers and threats to agents.” The threat of doxxing—the malicious sharing of personal information—has risen, with officers and their families reportedly being targeted. “People are trying to identify them and post their photos online, dox them, threaten their families, it’s totally unacceptable,” Lyons said. He added, “What we need is elected officials to work with us to hold these people accountable that dox ICE agents.”
This practice of masking up marks a sharp contrast with previous years. During the Biden administration and at the start of Trump’s term, ICE officers didn’t wear masks. Now, with threats on the rise, the agency sees it as a necessary precaution.
As Washington, D.C., navigates this new reality, the city finds itself at the intersection of national policy and local impact. The Trump administration’s enforcement surge has set off a cascade of changes—from the rapid training of thousands of new ICE officers to the anxiety gripping performers and business owners on the ground. The tension between federal priorities and local realities is unmistakable, and the question of how long this delicate balance can hold remains unanswered.
For now, the city’s residents, performers, and businesses are left to adapt as best they can, hoping for a return to the safety and normalcy that once defined their daily lives.
