For Evan Cordes-Stone and his young daughter Evie, afternoons in their Chicago apartment have taken on a new urgency. Instead of the usual crafts and games, the pair now spend their time assembling bright orange whistles—simple tools meant to keep their neighbors safe during a time of heightened immigration enforcement. "I'm a fan of very simple solutions," Cordes-Stone told ABC7 Chicago on a recent Monday, as he and Evie prepared a fresh batch of 600 whistles. "This seemed like a very simple, efficient way to keep the community safe if ICE came in."
Across the city, these whistles have become more than just plastic noise-makers; they are a symbol—and a literal sound—of resistance to the Trump administration's sweeping efforts to detain and deport undocumented migrants. The instructions are straightforward: three short blasts if you spot an ICE agent in the area, and three long ones if you witness an arrest or aggressive action. The goal, Cordes-Stone explained, is to alert the community so people can observe, document, and peacefully protest federal actions in their neighborhoods.
Since early October 2025, Cordes-Stone and Evie have distributed more than 1,500 whistles, dropping them off at small businesses, pop-up library boxes, and directly into the hands of neighbors. "At the time we first started, ICE wasn't visible in our neighborhood yet, but we sensed that it was going to happen soon and we wanted our neighbors to be prepared when it happened," Cordes-Stone said. That sense of anticipation proved prescient. On October 24, just blocks from their home in Chicago's Lakeview neighborhood, Customs and Border Protection agents made several arrests as part of a broader federal sweep.
The response from the community was immediate and loud. Abby Nystedt, a local resident, was on a call at home when she heard the sound of whistles piercing the autumn air. "I got off the call that I was on and came out of my house and started protesting with other neighbors that don't want to see this type of activity happening in our neighborhood or any neighborhood in our city or in our country," she told ABC7 Chicago. Within moments, a crowd had gathered, surrounding the agents and making their objections known—not with violence, but with the shrill, unified chorus of whistles.
The legality of such protest tactics has been a topic of discussion. David S. Weinstein, a former federal prosecutor, weighed in: "Certainly, blowing a whistle is your right to do under free speech. On the other hand, once you've done that, you cannot now go and impede that officer from performing a legitimate lawful function." For Chicagoans like Cordes-Stone, the act of blowing a whistle is about transparency and accountability. "These whistles just kind of enable the community to be aware of what these agents are doing and to come out and watch what they're doing," he said. "If you as a federal, and or civil servant, don't want the community, don't want the people to see what you're doing, you're probably not doing the right thing."
The whistle campaign is just one facet of a much broader story unfolding across the United States. In September, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) launched Operation Midway Blitz in Illinois, targeting undocumented migrants. According to the Department of Homeland Security, the operation has resulted in over 1,000 arrests, including what the agency describes as "the worst of the worst pedophiles, child abusers, kidnappers, gang members, and armed robbers." Yet critics argue that many of those detained have no criminal record at all, fueling further debate and protest.
These enforcement actions are not limited to Chicago. In Southern California, the suburb of Bell Gardens has been transformed by months of immigration crackdowns. As The New York Times reports, families there have curtailed trips to supermarkets and churches, and many residents—even naturalized citizens—now carry their passports at all times, just in case. "Especially here in California, we need to speak up," said Alo Hurtado, a 42-year-old resident who decided to vote early and in person in California's special election this week, motivated by fears of mail tampering and anger over ICE raids. For many, the presence of federal agents in their neighborhoods has become a daily reality, shaping not only their routines but their sense of security and belonging.
The fear and uncertainty generated by these operations have had ripple effects well beyond the immediate targets of enforcement. As elections unfold in California, New Jersey, and other states, Democratic officials and Latino voting-rights activists worry that the ICE crackdown will suppress Latino voter turnout. The presence of Justice Department election monitors at polling sites in California and New Jersey has only heightened concerns about potential intimidation. Yet, early voter data from California, New Jersey, and Virginia shows Latino turnout is roughly on pace with past elections, according to The New York Times.
Behind these enforcement efforts is a dramatic expansion in resources and manpower, thanks in large part to the One Big Beautiful Bill (OBBB), signed into law by President Trump earlier in 2025. The legislation has funneled $45 billion into expanding ICE’s detention capacity to nearly 100,000 beds, $14 billion for transportation and removal operations, and $8 billion to hire 10,000 additional deportation officers. Billions more have been allocated for technology upgrades, state and local cooperation programs, and retention incentives for ICE personnel. All told, the OBBB is expected to push ICE’s total funding to more than $100 billion by fiscal year 2029, making it one of the most well-resourced federal law enforcement agencies in the country, as reported by Newsweek.
To meet its ambitious staffing goals, the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) has launched a nationwide recruitment effort, receiving over 175,000 applications and issuing more than 18,000 tentative job offers. Incentives include signing bonuses of up to $50,000 and student loan repayment programs. As of mid-2025, ICE employed approximately 20,000 law enforcement and support personnel, with plans to add 10,000 new agents by 2029. The Trump administration has also marshaled resources from multiple federal agencies—including Border Patrol, the FBI, and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives—to support its deportation agenda.
Yet, the aggressive approach has not been without controversy. ICE and Border Patrol face ongoing allegations of misconduct, including excessive force, mistreatment of detainees, and aggressive workplace raids. Critics have also raised concerns about racial profiling and the psychological toll on families and communities. In one recent case, highlighted by Newsweek, the mother of Joaquin Viamonte Salas—a Cuban national with a 2024 final removal order and a criminal record—helped ensure her son's peaceful transfer into ICE custody. ICE officials said her cooperation allowed the process to be carried out safely and without incident, adding, "When we have community cooperation, everyone is safer."
As the debate over immigration enforcement rages on, communities across the country are finding ways to cope, resist, and support one another. For some, like Evan Cordes-Stone and his daughter, that means handing out whistles and standing ready to sound the alarm. For others, it means voting, protesting, or simply keeping a watchful eye on the streets they call home. The stakes are high, and the outcome—both for individuals and for the nation as a whole—remains uncertain.
In the end, the story of America’s immigration crackdown in 2025 is one of resilience and resistance, of neighbors looking out for one another amid sweeping federal action. Whether in the shrill sound of a whistle or the quiet act of casting a ballot, the message is clear: communities are determined to make their voices heard, no matter the odds.
