On a recent August morning in California, two separate but strikingly similar incidents unfolded, highlighting the Trump administration’s increasingly aggressive approach to immigration enforcement at and around courthouses. The events—one in San Francisco and another in Los Angeles—have sparked outrage among legal professionals, immigrant advocates, and local officials, who warn that such tactics threaten the integrity of the judicial process and the safety of immigrant communities.
In San Francisco on August 15, 2025, the usually tense atmosphere of the immigration court at 630 Sansome Street was punctuated by a series of arrests that left even seasoned attorneys unsettled. According to reporting from local sources, a middle-aged woman from Guatemala, who spoke only Mam, a Mayan language, attended her scheduled asylum hearing before Judge Joseph Park. The woman’s inability to communicate in Spanish presented immediate challenges. As the court’s Spanish interpreter struggled to bridge the language gap, Judge Park attempted to locate a Mam interpreter by phone. The effort proved fruitless that morning. Ultimately, Park decided to postpone her hearing until October, when other Mam-speaking cases were already scheduled and an interpreter would be available.
Despite the delay—and despite the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) attorney’s agreement to continue the case—two male Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officers arrested the woman as soon as she exited the courtroom. The Attorney of the Day, part of a program that provides free legal advice to immigrants, attempted to warn her of the potential risk by enlisting a family member to interpret the warning from Spanish to Mam. But the warning proved prescient: the officers called her name and swiftly led her through an unmarked door, out of sight and into federal custody.
Earlier that same morning, the DHS attorney had moved to dismiss the cases of three other asylum-seekers. Two of them were arrested in the hallway moments after leaving their hearings. The third, a woman from Colombia, was so visibly distraught by the prospect of arrest that she remained in the courtroom for an hour, inconsolable and worried about her children. When she finally summoned the courage to leave, ICE officers were waiting. She panicked, retreated to the courtroom, and it was another half hour before she could compose herself enough to face the officers again—who immediately took her into custody.
These scenes, as described by court observers and legal advocates, underscore a new normal in California’s immigration courts. Whereas judges in San Francisco have historically resisted DHS motions to dismiss asylum cases, ICE has pressed ahead with arrests regardless. The presence of ICE officers in courthouse hallways, ready to detain immigrants whose cases are still active, has left many immigrants and their advocates feeling the system is rigged against them.
Just two days earlier, a similar drama unfolded outside the Clara Shortridge Foltz Criminal Justice Center in downtown Los Angeles. In a video widely circulated by the Los Angeles Times and other outlets, a man later identified as Steven Reyes was forcibly detained by a group of plainclothes men—some masked, one of whom identified himself as ICE. The footage shows Reyes, his hands bound behind his back, yelling, “Can you help me, please?” as he is carried and pushed into the back seat of an unmarked car. Onlookers demanded to know the men’s identities and whether they had a warrant, but received no answers. One of the men briefly flashed a badge that resembled that of Homeland Security Investigations, but the video was too blurry to confirm the details.
Reyes, represented by the Los Angeles County Alternate Public Defender’s Office, had been appearing in court on a state felony drug charge. He had pleaded not guilty just two weeks earlier and was free on his own recognizance. The Los Angeles County district attorney’s office, which is prosecuting the case, said it had no prior knowledge of the arrest and was not involved in the incident. In a statement, the office said, “Detaining a defendant before the judicial process has concluded interferes with our ability to prosecute cases and is not to the advantage of the pursuit of justice.”
The incident drew a swift and forceful response from Los Angeles County Superior Court’s presiding judge, Sergio C. Tapia II. In a public statement, Tapia condemned the operation, saying, “While the court is rarely notified of federal immigration enforcement activity occurring outside our courthouse, I am deeply disturbed by such actions. These intimidating and unnecessary displays undermine public trust in the justice system, deter people from seeking justice, and send a dangerous message to immigrant communities that they are not safe to fully and freely participate in the legal process.”
Jenny Cheng, spokesperson for the Alternate Public Defender’s Office, echoed those concerns. “These alleged ICE agents, without a warrant or any explanation, clearly deprived our client of his liberty without due process,” she told CNN. “It shocks the conscience to see any human violently abducted by a group of mostly masked unidentified individuals. Such aggressive ICE abductions threaten the integrity of the court system and discourage participation.”
The Trump administration’s approach marks a sharp departure from previous federal policy. Under earlier guidelines, ICE and the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) generally avoided courthouse arrests, recognizing that such actions could chill participation in the justice system—whether by defendants, witnesses, or victims. But those guidelines were rescinded early in President Trump’s second term, opening the door to a wave of courthouse detentions across the country.
Defending the new policy, DHS spokesperson Tricia McLaughlin stated in a May news release, “The ability of law enforcement to make arrests of criminal illegal aliens in courthouses is common sense. It conserves valuable law enforcement resources because they already know where a target will be. It is also safer for our officers and the community. These illegal aliens have gone through security and been screened to not have any weapons.”
Immigrant rights groups, however, see the trend as part of a broader crackdown that extends enforcement into spaces once considered off-limits—no longer confined to border crossings or work sites, but now reaching into the heart of the justice system itself. They argue that such practices erode trust, discourage immigrant participation in legal proceedings, and risk undermining the rule of law. The scenes in San Francisco and Los Angeles—of frightened asylum-seekers and defendants being whisked away by plainclothes officers—have only intensified those fears.
For many, the question is not just about policy, but about the soul of the American justice system. When courthouses—symbols of fairness and due process—become sites of fear and uncertainty for vulnerable communities, the consequences ripple far beyond the individuals detained. As these recent events show, the debate over immigration enforcement at courthouses is not merely a legal or political issue, but one that strikes at the very core of public trust in the system.