ICE’s is getting worse and people are not putting up with it. That was shown to everyone last week in a facility in Illinois. Our new writer David Morgan reports.
David Morgan
As you take the exit off the freeway, the flashing red, white, and blue lights of police vehicles cut through the tree line and pierce the night sky. Approaching the intersection of Beach Street and Lexington in Broadview, Illinois, it becomes painfully clear that tonight is unlike any other. The vibrant lights dance against the backdrop of yellow crime scene tape. Emergency vehicles line 25th Street, while protesters converge towards the detention center— a testament to the escalating crisis.
In stark contrast to the week prior, tonight is different. Over the past four weeks, we have watched as ICE escalated its tactics and presence, leading to perceptions of an invasion in Chicago by the federal government, circumventing the United States Constitution and sowing division as well as distrust. The community is weary—tired of seeing their families ripped apart by an occupying force. They are tired of seeing fathers gunned down by federal agents in Franklin Park; tired of citizens and non-criminals being kidnapped, and tired of folks disappearing into a woefully inadequate and inhumane immigration system. The community is exhausted, but they are resolute, and they are NOT going anywhere.
As I make my way to the facility, I recall the words of a Mexyka elder I heard the previous night. She urged the crowd, “We must not let their hate infect our hearts,” speaking of ICE, Customs and Border Protection, and the Trump Administration. “They want us to forget who we are and fill ourselves with hate and fear.” She spoke, “I will not do that, that is not who I am, we want to be better, and we must fill our souls with love and positive energy. We look to the ancestors to find balance to be able to fight these heartless animals.” She burned a chalice with incense and indigenous medicine for those in the crowd and those trapped inside the Broadview facility. She and others danced and gave thanks, calling on the protection of the ancestors for all present last night, but most of all the detainees being held 80 to a 34-person cell. The incense washed over the crowd of protesters as she sang songs of blessing and transformation. Encouraging others to rejuvenate themselves when they feel tired in this fight.
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I turned the corner onto Beach Street, cars lining both sides of the street. On my left, a pop-up medical station, brimming with supplies—snacks, water, N95 masks, saline, clothing, and food—all funded by local donations and the support of the cause. On the opposite side of the street, legacy media groups and their local affiliates line the sidewalk, looking on, with no masks or eye protection, seemingly ignorant of the events that will unfold in a matter of minutes.
Across the street, closest to the detention center, a 12-foot metal fence appeared overnight. In front of the barricade, a Rabbi stands with the protesters; a steadfast figure in lifting voices in this community, tonight is no different. They raise their voice in solidarity, rallying the crowd with chants and speeches meant to pierce the silence behind those walls. Some messages are in English, others are in Spanish; they read out the date, time, and location so the detainees can have some semblance of orientation. No matter the language, no matter the understanding, the emotion is raw, hanging in the air like incense from the night before. Even with the violence perpetrated by ICE agents wreaking havoc in peaceful communities, we gathered tonight in solidarity. The crowd remained peaceful, swelling to over 200. But even before the protesters can finish their demonstration, I notice ICE and Border Patrol agents amassing across the 12-foot metal fence.
As peaceful protesters exercise their First Amendment rights, ICE and CBP pile into a Mine Resistant Ambush Protected Vehicle (MRAP). Usually only found in combat zones, and begin stacking agents in tactical gear, they are prepared to unleash chaos on innocent civilians; women, the elders, those with medical issues, those with chronic illness, and worst of all, children. I navigate through the crowd, looking for anyone who may not be aware of what is to come: “ICE is putting on gas masks, get ready!” To a crowd of peaceful protesters, the faces around me are etched with confusion. Why would ICE be donning gas masks for a peaceful protest? Because ICE arrived with the full intent to disrupt and instigate violence at a gathering meant for peace.
As I reach the center of the street, I glance back at the formidable 12-foot gate, now swinging open. Beyond the gate, four lines of agents mobilized, two flanking each side of the MWRAP, with one agent on a turret above. Floodlights blazed to light, and the vehicle’s red, white, and blue emergency lights flashed. Colors, typically synonymous with freedom, now signal state-sanctioned violence and oppression soon to come.
What happens next can be viewed in its entirety on TikTok at @MoModerate or on Instagram at @MoModerateOfficial.
As the gates open, protesters begin to scatter. Some rushed to march, others, mostly elders and other families, waited at the entrance, hoping for a fleeting glimpse of their loved ones before they disappear into the unforgiving immigration system, shipped like cattle, to only God knows where.
Then it starts.
Not a verbal command.
Not an announcement over loudspeakers.
The jarring pops of pepper balls and rubber bullets rip through an unarmed crowd of demonstrators. I pivot back to the gate, my vision clouded by white smoke. The assault rains down, exploding pepper balls into people’s faces, necks, and backs. ICE and CBP unleash their brutality upon innocent civilians: women, children, and those with disabilities, showing no regard for humanity. Out of nowhere, a canister launches into the crowd, followed by two more; each one leaves a trail of white smoke as it soars silently. The air fills with explosions and choking smoke.
In under a minute, what started as a peaceful protest has transformed into a chaotic scene reminiscent of conflict zones like Beirut or Afghanistan. The booms resonate through the streets, rattling cars and shattering windows. The air became thick and unbreathable, as a dense yellow smoke engulfed the area, causing the protesters to flee as canisters rained down upon us. Through the haze, I see a woman and a child dive into a car to escape the gas. Everyone struggles to breathe, and panic reigns. I push my way to the tent that once functioned as a medical outpost, searching for a medic in the chaos. As visibility fades, explosions continue to rock the area as I make distance between me and the detention center. CBP and ICE are advancing down the street. I call out for the medic as I hook the doc’s arm and run for cover. A mother and her two teenage daughters came to the peaceful protest. Now their eyes were swollen shut from chemical agents. The fear is palpable in the young women as the doc flushes their eyes and faces with saline solution and cool water. These are children, and they have chemical burns all over their skin and faces. A peaceful demonstration devolved into chaos.
As we make our way around the buildings, the haze is still in the air as they use munitions and gas indiscriminately. The Broadview PD, once lined up along the street, are also feeling the effects. The doc takes time to cross the street and offer medical attention to the first responders. A woman walks across the street from me, trying to calm herself. Unable to grasp what just happened to her, she was not prepared for this assault. She is in shock. I make my way across the street, now covered in masks and empty bottles of water, to ask if she is okay. Her eyes, wide with terror, speak volumes as she replies, “No, I am not okay.” “I came with my family to pray and speak up for my community. I did nothing. What did I do wrong? We were peaceful. These people are evil. They need to leave our community alone; we don’t want them here.” With the chaos far from over, I leave a bottle of water for her, making my way back to the detention center to see what ICE and CBP are doing.
Through the smoke-filled street, backlit by streetlamps, I can see agents positioning themselves in a line on the corner of Lexington and Beach Street. They have moved into the township and off Federal Property, taking over the street and shutting down the intersection and off-ramp from the freeway. Protesters gather opposite the agents, outraged, blinded by lights from the tank-like vehicle, CBP and ICE have decided to deploy against unarmed citizens. Down the street to the detention facility, agents dismantle the tent that was used for medical supplies just 20 minutes ago.
Protesters and volunteers are outraged as they face off with the agents at the corner where random pepper balls are fired into the crowd now gathered in front of the Ironworkers Building—a building with full plate glass windows. The street medic, affectionately called “Doc” from her time in the military as a combat medic, stepped up, challenging the agents and rebuking their authority to prevent her from retrieving the medical gear to treat the protesters. She made multiple trips to bring back numerous wagons of saline, water, masks, bandages, and other essential supplies.
Some protesters were forced onto the freeway, fleeing from the gas and munitions being fired through the smoke. There was coughing, gagging, and vomiting violently the whole way. All for speaking up and exercising the muscle of free speech? Did we just witness a blatant, radical, violent attack on not only citizens of this great country, but also the idea and the act of free speech?
I believe we did.
While ICE and CBP began to retreat into the facility, giving strict orders to disperse, three protesters were arrested. Two for allegedly possessing concealed firearms, another for allegedly threatening agents. According to Gov. JB Pritzker’s office, and substantiated by Axios using ICE’s own records, more than 60% of detainees currently in ICE detention in the state of Illinois have no criminal record, in overcrowded facilities that lack the necessary supplies. After the event, Gov. Pritzker said in a press conference, “Yet we still see ICE going into neighborhoods and violently, sometimes fatally, assaulting, kidnapping, detaining, and subsequently disappearing whomever they choose to, based on the color of their skin, or the language they speak.”
Congrats Mo