On a crisp September morning in Ladson, South Carolina, more than 20 people gathered outside the gates of Elbit America, their signs reading “Fuera Migra” and “Immigration Leave” waving in the wind. The protest, small but determined, was just one of many rippling across the country in response to a recent U.S. Supreme Court ruling that has reignited longstanding tensions over immigration enforcement and civil liberties.
Earlier this month, the Supreme Court issued a 6-3 decision that upended years of legal precedent, granting federal immigration agents—including those from Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and the Border Patrol—the authority to conduct so-called roving patrols. These patrols allow agents to stop and question individuals about their immigration status based on appearance, language, occupation, or even the simple fact of where they happen to be standing. According to CalMatters, the ruling effectively gives agents the green light to resume practices that many in immigrant communities have long described as discriminatory and traumatic.
For Christian Ramirez, the news was all too familiar. Ramirez, now political director for SEIU United Service Workers West, recalled his own experience with racial profiling 35 years ago in San Diego’s Nestor border community. “I was 15 years old when a Border Patrol agent approached me at gunpoint and handcuffed me on the street,” Ramirez wrote in a recent Facebook post. He was, he said, wrongly and racially profiled—a story that echoes the experiences of countless others living near the border and, increasingly, far beyond it.
Ramirez’s memories are not just personal anecdotes; they are part of a documented pattern. In the 2000s, Ramirez worked with organizations like the American Friends Service Committee and Union del Barrio to track roving patrols in San Diego. Agents would surveil buses and the city’s trolley, harassing thousands based on their appearance or the language they spoke, often targeting working-class neighborhoods during busy commute times. “Anyone could be a target,” Ramirez noted, “even if they’re just trying to get to school or seeking shelter during a natural disaster.”
The Supreme Court’s decision has sparked outrage and fear in immigrant communities across the nation. In Ladson, Lucia Peña of the Charleston Community Service Organization voiced her frustration: “Racially profiling our brown and our black neighbors is basically to codify the racial profiling.” Peña, standing before the crowd, explained that many immigrants are now afraid to go grocery shopping, fearful they could be stopped, harmed, or even killed by immigration agents. “You have a voice and you’re able to use it, you’re in a position to, which I recognize a lot of people are not, that you need to use it right now. It’s kind of now or never,” echoed community member Gillian Bergeron, capturing the sense of urgency and unease felt by many.
The Supreme Court’s majority opinion, supported by Justice Brett Kavanaugh, rationalized the use of profiling. Kavanaugh wrote that “those individuals often work in certain kinds of jobs, such as day labor, landscaping, agriculture, and construction” and many “do not speak much English.” He further asserted, “If the officers learn that the individual they stopped is a U.S. citizen or otherwise lawfully in the United States, they promptly let the individual go.” But for those on the receiving end of these encounters, the reality is far from benign. According to CalMatters, since a Kern County raid in January, videos have circulated of masked federal agents chasing predominantly Latino workers at Home Depots, car washes, and parks—without regard for legal status or criminal history.
The consequences have, at times, been tragic. Earlier this month in Chicago, an ICE agent shot and killed Silverio Villegas-Gonzalez, a 38-year-old father of two, during a traffic stop. In Ventura County in July, Jaime Alanís died from injuries sustained while fleeing agents raiding a legal pot farm. These incidents, say advocates, are not isolated—they are the latest in a long history of aggressive enforcement that has sometimes proven deadly.
San Diego’s own history with immigration enforcement is instructive. In 2003, then-Border Patrol Sector Chief William Veal tried to end roving patrols, only to be overruled by Robert Bonner, then the Customs and Border Protection commissioner, who called the effort “overly broad and restrictive.” Even when the Obama administration in 2014 restricted federal agencies from using racial profiling, Customs and Border Protection agents were specifically exempted at airports, border crossings, and immigration checkpoints. The practice, in short, has deep roots.
The Supreme Court’s September ruling broke with lower courts that had sought to rein in such enforcement tactics. Now, with the decision in place, the Department of Homeland Security’s newly supercharged budget could mean thousands more agents deployed onto American streets—a prospect that has alarmed civil rights groups and local officials alike. Norma Chavez-Peterson, executive director of the American Civil Liberties Union of San Diego and Imperial Counties, called the decision “emboldening” for the Trump administration and a “broader power grab to weaken the constitutional protections of all people.” She warned, “When one person’s rights are stripped away, the thread that binds all our freedoms begins to fray.”
In response, San Diego officials have moved to shore up local protections. At a recent press conference, City Councilmember Sean Elo-Rivera announced a county-wide Due Process and Dignity Ordinance aimed at drawing “clear, lawful boundaries around what can and cannot happen on city-controlled and funded property.” The ordinance, he said, “demands that everyone in San Diego—including those who were made less safe by the SCOTUS decision—is afforded due process and, in doing so, also provides all people the firmest ground possible to assert their constitutional rights.”
Back in Ladson, the protest outside Elbit America was a reminder that the debate is not just abstract legal theory but a matter of daily life for millions. Elbit America, for its part, highlighted its economic contributions, noting in a statement that its Charleston facility has generated a projected $380 million in economic impact and invested over $14.5 million with South Carolina businesses since 2023. The company employs 110 full-time members and plans to hire more, underscoring the complex ways immigration, local economies, and federal policies intersect.
For Ramirez and others, the fight against racial profiling and aggressive immigration enforcement is far from over. “It’s going to take creating a movement beyond the halls of justice and legislative bodies to overturn racism codified by the Supreme Court,” he said, invoking a slogan borrowed from Puerto Rican activists: “La migra no se fue, el pueblo la sacó, and it will take all of us.”
As the sun set over Ladson and the crowd slowly dispersed, one thing was clear: the Supreme Court’s ruling has not silenced dissent. Instead, it has galvanized a new generation of activists determined to defend their rights—and those of their neighbors—no matter how daunting the odds.
