Riots have swept across Los Angeles after Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents executed coordinated deportation warrants across the region. While media outlets and activists are framing the events as a humanitarian crisis, the truth is simpler—and more uncomfortable for some to accept: these were lawful deportations, carried out on individuals who had already exhausted their legal options. The chaos that followed raises serious questions about whether American cities will respect the rule of law or allow emotional narratives to override it.
The unrest began on June 6, when ICE conducted targeted operations at construction sites, transit hubs, and migrant-heavy neighborhoods. According to DHS officials, every arrest involved individuals with a final order of removal issued by a federal immigration judge. These were not random sweeps or racial profiling—they were the execution of legal judgments, often delayed for years due to court backlogs and lack of enforcement. And yet, instead of viewing these actions as law enforcement fulfilling its duty, activists and some city leaders condemned the effort, claiming it lacked compassion.
But compassion cannot substitute for law. Currently, more than 1.4 million people nationwide are living under active deportation orders—many of which remain unexecuted because the individuals never showed up for court, and federal authorities don’t know their whereabouts. Los Angeles County alone has 110,670 pending deportation cases, the highest of any county in the U.S. States like California, Texas, New York, and Florida each have over 100,000 pending cases. These are not small numbers. This isn’t a bureaucratic backlog—it’s a failure of national enforcement. But instead of addressing it as the emergency it is, we now treat it like a political football, kicked back and forth while cities burn and leaders hide behind rhetoric.
Initially peaceful, the protests quickly devolved into lawlessness. Demonstrators blocked traffic, surrounded federal buildings, and by the second night, had set vehicles ablaze, looted stores, and attacked police lines. Footage of flaming Waymo driverless cars and smashed storefronts across downtown L.A. made international headlines. In response, law enforcement used non-lethal measures to disperse the crowds. More than 250 people have since been arrested on charges ranging from assault to arson.
President Trump responded by deploying 4,000 National Guard troops and 700 Marines to stabilize the region. “No city in America is above the law,” he said. “If local leaders won’t restore order, the federal government will.” Governor Gavin Newsom immediately challenged the action, filing a lawsuit claiming the president violated the Posse Comitatus Act and overstepped his constitutional authority.
The lawsuit triggered intense legal debate. Some argue federal troops should only be used with a state’s permission. Others point out that when federal buildings, personnel, and the execution of federal law are under direct threat, the president has clear authority to act.
What’s missing from most of the coverage is honesty. These protests are not about justice. They are about resistance to the law. I don’t care how the media and politicians might flip it. Every person targeted in these raids had a legal order for removal. Their rights had been adjudicated. Their cases were closed. To frame their arrest as an injustice is to rewrite the meaning of law itself.
The real danger isn’t federal enforcement—it’s the cultural shift where executing lawful orders is framed as cruelty, and ignoring them is celebrated as activism. While our politicians are fighting for this, what about the real injustices in the black community? The historical injustices? No mention of any of them.
This is not a civil rights struggle. It’s a political stunt built on selective outrage. The system isn’t broken because it enforces the law—it’s broken because too many are afraid to.
