In the heart of Chicago and its neighboring suburbs, a dramatic standoff is unfolding between federal authorities and local communities, with National Guard members and city officials caught in the crosshairs of a widening conflict over immigration enforcement and public safety. The latest flashpoint: a defiant vow by several Illinois National Guard members to refuse President Donald Trump’s orders to deploy in Chicago, should the Supreme Court greenlight such action. Their stance, rooted in a belief that the mission is both unlawful and morally wrong, is intensifying the debate over the role of federal power in America’s cities.
Captain Dylan Blaha of the Illinois National Guard never imagined he’d be asked to turn against his own community. “I never, never expected that I would be deployed against my neighbors, against my community,” Blaha told reporters, echoing the sentiments of many who wear the uniform. But as President Trump’s crackdown on what his administration calls “mob violence” in Democrat-led cities continues, Blaha and others have found themselves at the center of a legal and ethical storm. Deployment in Chicago is currently on hold, pending a Supreme Court ruling on its legality, but Blaha has made it clear: regardless of the court’s decision, he will refuse the order. And he’s not alone.
Staff Sgt. Demi Palecek, another member of the Illinois National Guard and a Democratic candidate for the state legislature, has also pledged to defy the deployment. Palecek, who is of Mexican descent, says Trump’s anti-immigrant policies are wreaking havoc in her community. According to her, law-abiding immigrants are being swept up in Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) raids, only to vanish into the system. “We just don’t know where they are,” Palecek said. “Their families don’t know where they are.” The numbers are staggering: ICE statistics reveal that about 72% of the 57,861 people detained since June 29 have no criminal convictions. The resulting fear has chilled daily life for many, with some residents too afraid to go to work or send their children to school.
Palecek has witnessed the impact firsthand. On Halloween, she and volunteers handed out bags of candy to children too frightened to go trick-or-treating. When she knocks on doors in her district, residents freeze upon learning she’s with the National Guard. “I just tell them my story,” she said. “And that’s what they think of the National Guard—a humanitarian or someone that fights for the community, not just someone that just follows a dictator’s orders.”
The Trump administration, meanwhile, has argued before the Supreme Court that deploying National Guard troops to Chicago is necessary because local police have failed to contain what the Department of Justice describes as “mob violence” stemming from anti-ICE protests. But Palecek, an organizer of such protests, disputes this characterization. “We have clergy there. We have Mormons there, school teachers, and dads, PTA dads. People are singing and playing the guitar and teaching each other how to knit,” she explained. “It’s just wild how they twist things.”
President Trump has already sent National Guard troops to Los Angeles, Memphis, and Washington, D.C., and is pressing to dispatch them to Portland and Chicago. On October 29, speaking to troops at the Yokosuka base near Tokyo, he made his intentions clear: “If we need more than the National Guard, we’ll send more than the National Guard because we’re going to have safe cities.” He even suggested invoking the centuries-old Insurrection Act, which would allow him to deploy active-duty military for domestic policing—sidestepping legal constraints that typically bar the military from law enforcement roles. “If I want to enact a certain act, I’m allowed to do it routinely. I’d be allowed to do whatever I want,” Trump asserted from Air Force One. “I can send the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines. I can send anybody I wanted.”
For National Guard members like Blaha and Palecek, the stakes are high. Refusing a lawful federal order could result in court-martial, imprisonment, or a felony-level discharge. Both have already faced repercussions—Blaha has had his security clearance revoked and is under investigation, while Palecek has received written warnings. Nevertheless, they argue that the orders are not lawful and that soldiers have a duty to disobey such commands. “I spoke out because I believe that it’s the right thing to do, and so I need to keep fighting that fight,” Blaha said. Palecek, resolute in her stance, added, “I believe that I’m on the right side of history. I would not be embarrassed to tell my grandkids the story. I would not be embarrassed to be in a history book. A lot of my colleagues will not be able to say the same thing.”
This tension has spilled onto the streets of Chicago’s suburbs. On November 1, in Evanston, a suburb north of Chicago, a car crashed into a U.S. Border Patrol vehicle, triggering a chaotic scene captured on video. As federal agents detained three individuals, a crowd gathered, and the situation quickly escalated. Videos shared on social media showed agents deploying pepper spray, punching a man who approached them, and pointing a gun at a woman who opened a vehicle door where a detainee had been placed. One Border Patrol agent was seen kneeling on a man’s back and repeatedly punching his head into the pavement. The Department of Homeland Security later said the agent delivered “defensive strikes” after the man allegedly grabbed the agent’s genitals and squeezed.
Evanston Mayor Daniel Bis did not mince words at a press conference following the incident. “It is an outrage,” Bis declared. “Our message for ICE is simple: Get the hell out of Evanston.” He accused immigration agents of having “beaten people up” and “abducted them.” The city has responded by passing ordinances declaring municipal property to be “No ICE Zones” and encouraging the formation of “rapid response” teams—groups of residents who warn neighbors when federal agents are spotted and attempt to slow their movements through the city.
The Evanston Police Department has also taken measures to ensure accountability. As of early November, they have begun sending supervisors to any reported immigration enforcement scene to document events and collect evidence for the Illinois attorney general’s Civil Rights Division. Police Commander Ryan Glew explained that their priority is to stabilize volatile situations and prevent further conflict between ICE agents and community members. Several people required treatment by paramedics for pepper spray exposure during the Evanston incident.
Allie Harned, a social worker at Chute Middle School, witnessed the ordeal. “This was awful. There were ICE agents and CBP agents pointing guns at community members, spraying pepper spray in the face of community members,” she recounted at the news conference. “This was terrifying to community members, it was horrifying to a student who happened to be in a car and witnessed it. It is not OK.”
As the legal and moral battles rage on, the people of Chicago and its suburbs find themselves navigating an uncertain landscape—one where the lines between law enforcement, civil rights, and community trust are being redrawn in real time. The choices made by National Guard members, city officials, and ordinary residents alike will shape the legacy of this moment for years to come.
