On a humid Saturday morning, August 2, 2025, the quiet town of Brewster, New York, became the unlikely stage for a confrontation that has since ignited fierce debate about law enforcement transparency and civil rights. Juan Fonseca Tapia, co-founder and organizer of Greater Danbury Unites for Immigrants, responded to an alert from his group’s rapid response network about possible Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) activity just over the Connecticut border, close to his own home. What started as a routine check quickly escalated into a chilling encounter that has since reverberated far beyond Brewster’s borders.
According to The Intercept and WTNH, Fonseca Tapia began driving around the area, alerting local day laborers and residents about the reported ICE presence after spotting more than five suspicious vehicles. Initially, he noticed a Ford Explorer with a man inside wearing what looked like a construction vest and helmet. “I told myself, ‘Oh, it's a contractor, a construction person.’ So I kept on driving,” Fonseca Tapia recalled. But as he continued his rounds, he realized the vehicle was tailing him, raising his suspicions and anxiety.
Seeking safety, Fonseca Tapia pulled into the parking lot of St. Lawrence O’Toole Church. There, the situation escalated: not only did the Ford Explorer follow him in, but two more vehicles joined. The man dressed as a construction worker approached Fonseca Tapia’s rolled-up window, his face obscured by a camouflage mask and safety glasses. “He wouldn't identify himself even though I kept on asking him to identify himself, and he kept on insisting for me to roll down my window and also to leave the parking lot of the church,” Fonseca Tapia told WTNH.
Fonseca Tapia captured the tense exchange on video. In the footage, the masked man can be heard saying, “I’m with federal law enforcement,” but when pressed to specify his agency, he curtly replied, “I’m not gonna tell you.” ICE later confirmed to The Intercept and WTNH that the man was indeed one of their agents from Hudson Valley, New York, conducting surveillance in Brewster that morning. The video, posted by Greater Danbury Area Unites for Immigrants, quickly spread on social media, fueling outrage and concern.
What truly rattled Fonseca Tapia, however, was what happened next. The disguised agent reportedly told him, “If you don't leave, I have more of my guys, and we're going to take care of you.” Fonseca Tapia described his fear of being “kidnapped” by ICE, surrounded by multiple vehicles with heavily tinted windows and agents refusing to identify themselves. “It’s literally a threat,” he told The Intercept. “You have three vehicles with very tinted windows, so it’s impossible to see inside. People are wearing masks and refuse to identify themselves, and one of them tells you he is going to call more of them to ‘take care of you’? This is for sure an intimidation tactic to instill fear in people who are working to alert the community when there is an ICE presence.”
Fonseca Tapia’s experience was not an isolated event. Since Donald Trump’s return to the White House, reports of masked ICE agents conducting immigration raids in disguises or plainclothes—sometimes in unmarked vehicles, often without warrants—have become increasingly common across the United States. The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) claims that such tactics are necessary due to a sharp rise in assaults on ICE agents, citing an 830 percent increase as of August 2025. Yet, ICE has no formal policy on masks outside of pandemic safety protocols, and the agency’s rationale has drawn skepticism and criticism from lawmakers, law enforcement veterans, and immigrant advocates alike.
New York state Senator Patricia Fahy, who introduced the Mandating End of Lawless Tactics (MELT) Act last month, has been particularly vocal. The act would ban the use of masks and disguises by ICE and other federal enforcement agents during civilian immigration actions in New York. “This is exactly what we are alarmed about,” Fahy told The Intercept. “It’s undermining all of law enforcement because they come across as impersonators. There’s no accountability and there’s no transparency, so it erodes public trust and undermines decades of work and millions of dollars spent.”
On August 5, 2025, Fahy joined colleagues from Massachusetts and Pennsylvania at the National Conference of State Legislatures in Boston to denounce what they described as “paramilitary-type secret police” tactics by ICE. “We had a couple of dozen lawmakers all standing up to say ‘This is not who we are’ and calling out these authoritarian-type tactics,” Fahy said. Her concerns are echoed by U.S. Senators Mark Warner and Tim Kaine, who warned in a May letter to DHS that the lack of clear identification by ICE officers could escalate already tense situations and risk avoidable violence.
The New York City Bar Association added its voice in June 2025, warning that masked ICE agents could encourage impersonation and lawlessness. Their fears are not unfounded: reports have surfaced this year of individuals impersonating ICE agents to commit robbery in Pennsylvania, kidnapping in Florida and South Carolina, scams in California, and even sexual assault and rape in North Carolina and New York.
Democrats in Congress have responded with legislative proposals such as the No Secret Police Act, which would bar federal agents from concealing their faces with “home-made, non-tactical masks” and require clear identification and insignia during detentions and arrests. “If you uphold the peace of a democratic society, you should not be anonymous,” said Rep. Adriano Espaillat, chair of the Congressional Hispanic Caucus.
For those on the ground, like Fonseca Tapia and his colleagues at Greater Danbury Unites for Immigrants, the stakes are personal and immediate. Juliana Soares, another leader with the group, disputed ICE’s claims that activists presented a safety threat. “We're members of our community that are keeping an eye out,” she told WTNH. “Since the people and the community are the only things that are really stepping up to help us, we are trying to just spread the word out as soon as we see that.”
The incident has galvanized advocates, who see themselves as the last line of defense for vulnerable residents. “The only thing that we have right now is us. Nobody else is coming to save us, and we are the only ones that can keep us safe,” Fonseca Tapia said. Soares added, “We need everyone right now. We are the line of defense, nothing else.”
Local law enforcement’s role in the incident remains murky. While Fonseca Tapia reported that Brewster Police and Putnam County Sheriff’s officers arrived at the church parking lot and spoke with him, the Village of Brewster Police Department denied involvement, and the sheriff’s office declined to comment to The Intercept.
As the debate over ICE tactics intensifies, the events of August 2 in Brewster have become a flashpoint for broader questions about democracy, law enforcement accountability, and the rights of immigrants in an era of heightened political polarization. For Fonseca Tapia and many others, the message is clear: vigilance and solidarity are more important than ever.