The Deep Damage ICE Does to Our Communities

It was just another day, and Ruben Torres Maldonado was doing something he’d done countless times in his 20 years as a house painter: picking up supplies for a job at a Home Depot in Niles.

Suddenly, four masked federal agents appeared in the parking lot and yelled his name. Terrified, Ruben raced to his car and locked the doors, according to his family’s account. One agent drew a gun and ordered Ruben out of the car. Agents forced him to the ground, then took him away.

Ruben had lived in Chicago since 2003. He’d worked for the same boss for two decades. He and his partner were raising two children: 4-year-old Nathan and 16-year-old Ofelia, who was undergoing treatment for an aggressive form of cancer.

While Ruben was kept away from his family for weeks, his Ofelia fought cancer without her father by her side. She died in February.

President Trump told us ICE would go after “the worst of the worst.” Instead, we’ve seen countless stories like Ruben’s — ICE agents grabbing our friends and neighbors out of their workplaces, homes, cars and places of worship. They’ve sent people with little or no criminal history to detention centers — sometimes in countries they’ve never even been to.

ICE’s own data tells the story: During Operation Midway Blitz, 58% of people apprehended in Illinois had no criminal history at all, according to ABC7’s analysis of government data. Nationwide, as of July, about 71% of people in ICE detention had no criminal conviction.

Those aren’t numbers, they’re people. They’re house painters, business owners, teachers — everyday people going about their daily lives. ICE created this environment of fear and uncertainty in an attempt to poison our communities and shred the fabrics of our neighborhoods. Across our city, people are constantly looking over their shoulders, wondering whether they will safely make it home.

There’s less footage these days of masked agents sweeping through Chicago neighborhoods, but don’t mistake the lack of video for a lack of activity. Federal agents arrested at least 37 people in Chicago over roughly a week and a half this summer, according to community groups. The enforcement has become less visible, but it hasn’t stopped.

So imagine living with the constant fear that ICE could detain you or someone you love. Imagine driving to work from Jefferson Park to the suburbs to help children and families, wondering at every stop sign whether you’ll make it home without being pulled over. Imagine owning a business that can’t operate at capacity because employees are worn out from worry or afraid to venture outside. Planning meetings become support sessions as we help each other carry the weight of uncertainty and fear.

These people live in the 45th Ward, and they can’t be fully present. They can’t work at their best. They are living in fear. And that is our lane.

Strong neighborhoods run on trust, and fear corrodes that trust. It keeps neighbors isolated, afraid to participate in the everyday activities that bring communities together.

Ald. Jim Gardiner has posted several videos of himself at local crime scenes, complaining about how dangerous Chicago is. But when ICE traumatized communities in the 45th Ward — using force that a federal judge said “shocks the conscience” — Gardiner stayed silent. 

A crime is a crime and violence is violence, no matter who commits it. When ICE agents break the law, they need to be held accountable.

If our alderman won’t say that, I will. I’ll be a voice for every constituent, and I’ll listen to everyone. We may not agree on everything, but we can agree that no one who lives here should have to live in fear. This isn’t a left-versus-right thing. It’s a human decency thing.

My office will help people navigate a complicated bureaucracy. We will connect them to their congressional representatives, legal aid, translation services, and other support. My office will help working families and retirees who need us the most — including people who may be undocumented.

I can’t control federal immigration policy from City Hall. But I can make sure people in the 45th Ward know where to turn, that our ward office is a place where every neighbor can ask for help, and that we don’t allow fear to isolate the people who make our neighborhoods work.

Because we are all Chicagoans, and we need to take care of one another.

Leah Pouw is a candidate for alderperson in Chicago’s 45th Ward.