On a warm August morning in Los Angeles, Benjamin Marcelo Guerrero Cruz, a newly minted 18-year-old high school senior, took his dog for a walk—an ordinary start to what should have been an ordinary day. But as he strolled through his neighborhood, masked men approached, seized him, and whisked him away. According to Truthout, these men were immigration agents, and Benjamin was their latest target in a surge of aggressive enforcement actions by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE).
Benjamin’s story, while shocking, is not isolated. Just days after his abduction, his family and supporters learned he was being held in a crowded holding cell alongside about 50 others, with only two toilets available for everyone. As detailed in an update on his family’s GoFundMe and reported by KTLA, Benjamin was described as "cold, scared, and one of the youngest there," deprived of basic hygiene, warmth, and adequate food.
For those who know Benjamin, the news was devastating. The GoFundMe page, which has already raised more than $20,000 to support his family’s legal battle and daily needs, paints a picture of a young man deeply embedded in his community. "He is more than just a student — he is a devoted son, a caring brother, a loyal friend, and a valued member of our community," the page states. Benjamin helps care for his five-month-old twin brothers and his six-year-old sibling, shouldering responsibilities far beyond his years. On top of that, he is a dedicated student, described by peers and coaches as "kind, respectful, and someone who lifted up the people around him." One teammate wrote, "On the field, he was rock-solid — always showed up, worked hard, and could be counted on week after week." Another added, "Benjamin is not only a good soccer player but also known for his humility, sportsmanship, and team spirit."
Yet, despite his contributions and the affection he inspires, Benjamin faces an uncertain future. The U.S. Department of Homeland Security (DHS) told Truthout that Benjamin, "an illegal alien from Chile, overstayed his visa by more than two years, abusing the Visa Waiver Program under which he entered the United States, which required him to depart the United States on March 15, 2023. He will remain in ICE custody pending removal."
Benjamin’s ordeal is unfolding against a backdrop of intensifying immigration enforcement across the country. As of August 2025, more than 60,000 people are detained by ICE—a dramatic increase from 39,000 just seven months earlier. According to Truthout, many detainees report inhumane conditions and obstacles to accessing legal counsel or communicating with family members.
But the way these arrests are carried out has sparked a fresh wave of concern and outrage. On August 11, just three days after Benjamin’s abduction, House Democrats sent an urgent letter to the Department of Homeland Security, demanding that immigration officials be required to clearly identify themselves during arrests. The letter, signed by 33 members of the Democratic Women’s Caucus and shared exclusively with HuffPost, was prompted by a string of chilling incidents in which men impersonated ICE agents to kidnap and assault women.
Rep. Nydia Velázquez (D-N.Y.), a lead author of the letter, told HuffPost, "It’s just terrifying. People cannot tell the difference between a real agent and a criminal, and that makes everyone less safe – especially immigrant women who are the most vulnerable." The letter details at least three recent cases: In North Carolina, a man posed as law enforcement, threatened deportation, and kidnapped and raped a woman. In Maryland, a man used a fake ICE badge to coerce a Latina woman into his car and raped her. In New York, a man dressed as an ICE agent punched and attempted to rape a woman in broad daylight before stealing her phone and purse.
What’s fueling this confusion? According to the Democratic Women’s Caucus, ICE agents are now frequently seen conducting raids and arrests fully masked, in plain clothes, and without visible identification or badges—often using unmarked vehicles. The letter states, "All our lives, we are taught to fear masked men in unmarked vehicles. We learn we should run from such men to avoid being kidnapped, sexually assaulted, or killed. Yet, ICE is increasingly conducting raids and arrests in masks, plain-clothes, without visible identification or badges, using unmarked vehicles – tactics that cause confusion, terror, and mistrust among the public."
The problem isn’t just theoretical. The letter cites the March 2025 arrest of Rümeysa Öztürk, who was approached in broad daylight by several masked agents—none displaying visible identification—handcuffed, and taken away. The lack of transparency, the Democrats argue, blurs the line between legitimate law enforcement and criminal behavior, leaving vulnerable people at risk.
To address this, Rep. Velázquez introduced the No Masks for ICE Act in June 2025, which would prohibit ICE agents from covering their faces during enforcement and require them to wear clothing that clearly displays their name and affiliation. In July, Democratic Senators Mark Warner and Tim Kaine introduced a similar bill that also offers protections for law enforcement officers and their families from threats like doxxing. The Democratic Women’s Caucus letter urges DHS to "implement policies and protocols that are responsive to these serious concerns about women’s safety and law enforcement integrity to protect women from further harm." The letter is blunt: "Your current practices leave women vulnerable to life-altering violence. It’s past time to act."
For Benjamin’s family, the debate over ICE’s tactics is anything but abstract. As they wait for news and work to secure his release, they are supported by a community that sees Benjamin as more than a statistic. The outpouring of support on his GoFundMe page—filled with messages from classmates, teammates, and neighbors—underscores the human cost of aggressive immigration enforcement policies. As one soccer friend put it, "He plays selflessly, stays calm under pressure, always respects others. His attitude lifts the whole team."
As Congress debates new rules for immigration enforcement and communities rally around those caught in the system, stories like Benjamin’s serve as a stark reminder of what’s at stake. The lines between safety and fear, law and lawlessness, are being redrawn—sometimes with devastating consequences for the most vulnerable among us.
The future of immigration enforcement remains uncertain, but the voices calling for transparency and accountability are growing louder. For Benjamin, his family, and countless others detained across the country, the hope is that compassion, fairness, and basic human dignity will ultimately prevail.
