Before Angelica Salas, the executive director of the Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights of Los Angeles (CHIRLA), could even board a plane to Missouri, she found herself in the crosshairs of a political controversy. In June 2025, U.S. Senator Josh Hawley sent Salas a pointed letter, raising serious accusations against her and the organization she leads. According to Hawley’s letter, CHIRLA was suspected of "aiding and abetting criminal conduct" and "bankrolling civil unrest" in connection to the widespread protests against federal immigration raids in Los Angeles. The senator demanded a sweeping set of records from CHIRLA—everything from emails and texts to donor lists and financial documentation of any money spent on protests targeting immigration enforcement actions by Homeland Security and other federal agencies.
Despite the looming threat and the political pressure, Salas pressed forward with her plans. On August 5, 2025, she took the stage at the UnidosUS convention in Kansas City, the nation’s largest Latino civil rights and advocacy gathering. Her appearance drew a rapturous response—second in enthusiasm only to UnidosUS President and CEO Janet Murguia, a Kansas City native with deep family ties to public service. The session was packed, with standing room only, as Salas spoke candidly about the recent events that had gripped Los Angeles and reverberated across the nation.
Salas described the events of early June, when CHIRLA began receiving alarming reports from the community. Men, women, and even children were being detained in the basement of a federal building because the municipal detention center had reached capacity. Federal agents, she recounted, were conducting sweeping raids across Los Angeles, rounding up individuals suspected of being undocumented immigrants. "We never imagined what was to come," Salas said during her address. "Our city was overtaken by a federal immigration military force of masked men in military convoys with automatic rifles and other armaments of war."
The raids, which began in early June, continued for more than 50 days. Federal agents, often in military-style convoys, swept through neighborhoods, targeting individuals at day labor sites and even at bus stops. The scale and intensity of the enforcement operation left many in the community shaken. According to Salas, "The terror only stopped because of our sustained protests"—a reference to the relentless demonstrations organized by CHIRLA and allied civil rights groups, as well as a class action lawsuit challenging the tactics being used by federal authorities.
Just before Salas left Los Angeles for Kansas City, there was a significant legal development. The Ninth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals upheld a temporary restraining order that halted indiscriminate immigration stops and arrests in seven Southern California counties, including Los Angeles. The ruling was a hard-fought victory for advocates, who argued that the raids were sweeping up individuals indiscriminately and violating their rights. Salas emphasized, "The majority of the protests that brought thousands of people into the streets, they were peaceful, and they were nonviolent."
Salas’s core message at the UnidosUS convention was directed squarely at the Latino community—a demographic that now numbers more than 66 million people and constitutes the largest minority group in the United States. She reminded the audience that eight in ten Latinos are U.S. citizens, and she called on them to wield their social, economic, and political power to push back against what she described as "the brutality that has been unleashed against us all." In her words: "I stand before you and I ask you to fight for our rightful place in this country. To use your social, your economic, your political power to stop these injustices and the brutality that has been unleashed against us all."
On the same panel was David Huerta, president of the Service Employees International Union California. Huerta’s own experience underscored the risks faced by protestors. He was arrested in June during a demonstration and held in jail for three days, charged with conspiracy to impede an officer before being released on bond. Huerta spoke of the importance of nonviolent resistance, telling the crowd, "They hear your voices on the inside. Your voices do resonate when they are detained." He echoed Salas’s call for peaceful protest as the community continues to resist sweeping arrests and raids targeting undocumented immigrants.
But even as the convention unfolded, the situation back in Los Angeles remained tense. On August 6, just a day after Salas’s speech, federal agents launched what has since been dubbed "Operation Trojan Horse." In a dramatic early morning raid near a Home Depot store, agents concealed themselves in the back of a rented Penske truck. When the door swung open, officers poured out and arrested more than a dozen immigrants suspected of being undocumented. The operation, with its element of surprise and use of a moving truck, drew immediate comparisons to other recent events involving masked groups and rented vehicles.
Indeed, the imagery struck a nerve in Kansas City, where, just months earlier in late May 2025, members of the white nationalist group Patriot Front had staged their own parade through downtown. Piling out of rented U-Hauls, some carrying Confederate flags and chanting about "reclaiming America," the group’s tactics—uniform outfits, masks, and rented trucks—bore an unsettling resemblance to the federal agents’ approach in Los Angeles. The similarity was not lost on community members and activists, who viewed both incidents as emblematic of a broader climate of intimidation and fear.
For Salas, the parallels were chilling and underscored the urgency of her message. "This is a defining moment for the Latino community," she declared. "We belong here. This is our home." Her words resonated with many in attendance, who saw in her call to action both a rallying cry and a reminder of the stakes involved. The Latino community, she insisted, must not only defend its rights but also assert its place in the American story.
The events of the summer of 2025—marked by sweeping federal immigration raids, legal battles, mass protests, and unsettling echoes of far-right activism—have left an indelible mark on the national conversation about immigration and civil rights. With legal victories in the courts and growing mobilization among Latino leaders and organizations, the fight over immigration enforcement in Los Angeles has become a microcosm of the broader struggle for justice, dignity, and belonging in the United States.
As the dust settles from a summer of confrontation and activism, the message from Kansas City is clear: the Latino community is watching, organizing, and refusing to be silenced. The outcome of this defining moment will shape not only the future of immigration policy but also the very fabric of American society.