It began as a routine arrest on a quiet Bloomington street in June 2025, but by early 2026, Jonathan Ross had become a central figure in a national debate over law enforcement, immigration, and the use of deadly force. The veteran Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent, whose career had long been marked by dangerous assignments, found himself thrust into the spotlight after a series of violent encounters—each raising new questions about accountability and training within federal agencies.
According to Star Tribune, the drama first unfolded when Ross attempted to arrest Roberto Carlos Muñoz-Guatemala, an undocumented immigrant, in Bloomington, Minnesota. What should have been a straightforward apprehension quickly escalated: Muñoz-Guatemala refused to exit his Nissan Altima, and as Ross reached inside to remove him, the car lurched forward. Ross was dragged roughly 100 yards, battered and bloodied, before he finally broke free. His arm required 33 stitches—a physical reminder of the risks federal agents face daily.
Nearly seven months later, Ross was back on duty, patrolling the streets of Minneapolis. On January 7, 2026, a split-second decision during a targeted operation—known as Operation Metro Surge—left protester Renee Good dead. The shooting sent shockwaves through the city and across the country, igniting a fierce debate about the use of force by immigration agents. As reported by Star Tribune, Ross is now reportedly in hiding, his actions scrutinized by lawyers, investigators, and a public demanding answers.
The aftermath of Good’s death has been anything but straightforward. According to The Washington Post, an attorney representing Muñoz-Guatemala, the man convicted of assaulting Ross during the June 2025 incident, is seeking a new trial. The attorney argues that the fatal shooting of Good calls for a reexamination of the earlier case, specifically questioning whether Ross followed proper training protocols. The defense’s efforts hinge on whether newly discovered evidence about Ross’s conduct could have influenced the outcome of Muñoz-Guatemala’s trial—or at the very least, his sentencing.
In court filings detailed by Star Tribune, Muñoz-Guatemala’s attorneys asked a federal judge to compel prosecutors to turn over Ross’s training records and investigative files related to the Good shooting. They argue that even if the court ultimately finds that new evidence doesn’t warrant a new trial, Muñoz-Guatemala should be allowed to explore whether there are mitigating factors that could impact the length of his sentence. One key question: Did Ross’s actions contribute to his own injuries, and does he have a history of aggressive or reckless behavior in the field?
The June 2025 incident itself remains a focal point. Court records reveal that Ross and other agents had surrounded Muñoz-Guatemala’s car, intending to process him for deportation due to an administrative warrant for being in the country without authorization. Ross used a tool to shatter the rear driver’s-side window and reached inside. When Muñoz-Guatemala accelerated, Ross was dragged along the road, deploying his taser multiple times in an attempt to subdue the driver. After the ordeal, Muñoz-Guatemala called 911, claiming he was the victim of an assault—a claim that surfaced for the first time during his trial.
During court proceedings, Muñoz-Guatemala testified that he didn’t realize Ross was a federal agent, noting that Ross wore ranger green and gray with a badge on his belt. Ross, however, testified that Muñoz-Guatemala had asked to speak to an attorney, which would suggest he was aware of Ross’s law enforcement status. An FBI agent who witnessed the encounter said he did not hear Muñoz-Guatemala make such a request. Prosecutors noted that this claim did not appear in pretrial interviews, and it was reportedly the first time they had heard it.
The jury ultimately convicted Muñoz-Guatemala on December 10, 2025, of assault on a federal officer with a dangerous weapon and causing bodily injury. But his defense team now contends that the instructions given to the jury were too narrow—essentially boiling the decision down to whether Muñoz-Guatemala should have known Ross was law enforcement, or whether driving away was a reasonable response. The defense argues that, had the trial occurred after Good’s killing, they might have asserted that Muñoz-Guatemala was justified in resisting Ross, whom they characterize as the aggressor.
Following the January 7 shooting, Ross was placed on administrative leave—a standard protocol after any fatal use of force, according to the Department of Homeland Security (DHS). Good, a 37-year-old poet and mother of three, was mourned by her community and quickly became a symbol in the growing debate over immigration enforcement and police accountability. The Justice Department announced it would not pursue criminal charges against Ross for the shooting, a decision that only intensified public scrutiny and calls for transparency.
Meanwhile, the legal maneuvering continues. Muñoz-Guatemala’s attorneys have filed a separate post-trial motion, asking the court to pause deadlines for a new-trial motion until their discovery request is resolved. They maintain that evidence related to Ross’s conduct, tactics, and adherence to training could shed light on whether he has a pattern of reckless behavior—information they believe is essential for both justice and fairness in sentencing.
Prosecutors have yet to respond to the flurry of defense motions. Attempts to reach Ross for comment were unsuccessful, and both the Department of Justice and DHS have declined to answer questions about Ross’s current duty status or the status of any internal review.
The ripple effects of these incidents are being felt far beyond the courtroom. According to The Washington Post, those seeking to sue ICE for injuries or damages face significant legal hurdles, and the national conversation about immigration enforcement is as polarized as ever. Advocates for stricter oversight argue that the deaths and injuries resulting from aggressive enforcement tactics demand systemic reform. Others, pointing to the dangers faced by agents like Ross, insist that law enforcement officers must be empowered to protect themselves—and the public—when situations spiral out of control.
As the investigations and legal battles continue, one thing is clear: the story of Jonathan Ross, Roberto Carlos Muñoz-Guatemala, and Renee Good has become a flashpoint in America’s ongoing struggle to balance security, justice, and civil rights. The decisions made in Minnesota’s courts in the coming months may well set important precedents for how similar cases are handled nationwide—and for how the country reckons with the complex realities of immigration enforcement.
The echoes of those violent encounters linger in Bloomington and Minneapolis, a sobering reminder of the human stakes behind policy debates and courtroom arguments. The search for answers—and for accountability—remains as urgent as ever.