On a brisk Thursday morning, the hum of traffic on Interstate 264 in Norfolk, Virginia, was shattered by tragedy. At around 11 a.m. on October 23, 2025, Josué Castro Rivera, a 24-year-old Honduran national, was fatally struck by a 2002 Ford pickup truck while fleeing from Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officers. The incident, which unfolded in broad daylight, has since ignited debate and sorrow in equal measure, drawing attention to the human cost of immigration enforcement operations in the United States.
According to the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), Castro Rivera and three others were traveling to a gardening job when their vehicle was pulled over by ICE as part of what authorities described as a "targeted, intelligence-based immigration enforcement operation." While officials have not disclosed the precise details or targets of the operation, the outcome was devastating. As ICE officers attempted to detain the vehicle's occupants for allegedly living in the country without legal permission, Castro Rivera resisted arrest, bolted from the scene on foot, and attempted to cross the busy interstate. In a matter of seconds, he was struck by a passing vehicle and pronounced dead at the scene by first responders, as reported by Virginia State Police.
The Virginia State Police, who were not involved in the initial ICE pursuit, responded to the aftermath. Their preliminary investigation confirmed that Castro Rivera had exited the stopped vehicle and was trying to cross the interstate when he was hit. The driver of the 2002 Ford pickup truck, whose identity has not been released, remained at the scene. State police are continuing to investigate the incident, but so far have not indicated any charges or wrongdoing on the part of the driver. The status of the other detained occupants remains unclear, and questions linger about what happened to them after the fatal accident.
For Castro Rivera's family, the loss is immeasurable. His brother, Henry Castro, described him as a young man with "a very good heart" who had been living in the U.S. for four years, sending money home to support his family in Honduras. He was, according to Henry, simply on his way to another day of hard work when his life was cut short. "He didn’t deserve everything that happened to him," Henry said, his grief palpable. The family is now raising funds to repatriate Josué’s body to Honduras for a funeral, seeking closure and dignity in the wake of what they call an "injustice."
In the immediate aftermath, an ICE officer reportedly administered CPR to Castro Rivera in an attempt to save his life. The officer later informed the three detained passengers of their friend's death, taking time to grieve and pray with them, a DHS spokesperson told ABC News. Yet, for many, these gestures of compassion do little to mitigate the trauma and controversy surrounding the incident.
DHS has been unequivocal in its attribution of blame. In a statement, the agency asserted that Castro Rivera’s death was "a direct result of every politician, activist, and reporter who continues to spread propaganda and misinformation about ICE’s mission and ways to avoid detention." The spokesperson went further, lamenting, "Sadly, this is the tragic result of such resistance." The agency contends that misinformation has emboldened undocumented immigrants to resist arrest, thereby increasing the risk of such deadly encounters.
However, Castro Rivera’s death is not an isolated case. According to reporting by The Associated Press and The Washington Post, similar fatalities have occurred during immigration enforcement operations in recent months. In July, a farmworker in California died after falling from a greenhouse roof during an ICE raid at a cannabis facility. In August, another man fleeing federal agents in California was struck and killed while running onto a freeway. Just last month, federal immigration agents fatally shot a Mexican man during a traffic stop in suburban Chicago. The DHS initially stated that a federal officer was "seriously injured" in the Chicago incident, but police body camera footage later showed the officer walking around and describing his injuries as "nothing major." These discrepancies have fueled skepticism about official accounts and have led to protests, lawsuits, and calls for independent investigations.
The pattern of fatalities during immigration operations has not gone unnoticed by activists and immigrant rights organizations. Many have argued that the aggressive tactics employed by federal agents, coupled with a climate of fear and uncertainty, have created conditions ripe for tragedy. Some point to the Trump administration’s ongoing crackdown on undocumented immigrants as a factor that has heightened tensions and increased the risk of violence. Protests in cities like Chicago and Los Angeles have drawn attention to what advocates describe as a lack of transparency and accountability in ICE operations, as well as the devastating impact on families and communities.
Yet, supporters of stricter immigration enforcement argue that the responsibility for such tragedies lies not with the authorities, but with those who choose to resist lawful detention. They echo DHS’s assertion that misinformation and fearmongering have contributed to a climate where individuals are more likely to flee, sometimes with fatal consequences. According to this view, the solution lies in clear communication about ICE’s mission and strict adherence to the law, rather than in scaling back enforcement efforts.
Meanwhile, the discrepancy surrounding Castro Rivera’s first name—federal authorities referred to him as Jose, while family members insisted it was Josué—remains unresolved. While seemingly minor, such inconsistencies have further eroded trust between immigrant communities and law enforcement agencies. For families like the Castros, these details matter, serving as reminders of the personal stories behind the headlines and statistics.
As the investigation by the Virginia State Police continues, the broader questions raised by Castro Rivera’s death linger. What could have been done differently to prevent this tragedy? How can authorities balance the enforcement of immigration laws with the imperative to protect human life? And what steps, if any, will be taken to address the root causes of such fatal encounters?
For now, Josué Castro Rivera’s family mourns a son and brother lost too soon, while advocates and officials alike grapple with the painful complexities of immigration enforcement in America. The story is far from over, but its impact will be felt for years to come in Virginia, Honduras, and beyond.
