farmworker

By midmorning in the Central Valley, the light turns hard and white, bleaching the sky and flattening every shadow. The rows of melons stretch to the horizon, vines twisted low in cracked soil. Pickers move in the rhythm the crop demands — bend, twist, lift, drop — their long sleeves damp with sweat, caps pulled low, bandanas hiding heat-burned cheeks. Spanish drifts along the rows, a joke here, a warning there, carried in the heavy air.

These are the cruelest days of harvest, when the sun turns fields into slow ovens and the heat climbs before breakfast, holding on until the stars are out. By nightfall, the damage is done: another collapse in the dirt, another family handed a death certificate instead of a paycheck.

It’s an all-too-familiar old problem in California. Nearly 20 years ago, in the shadow of four farmworker funerals — Arvin, Fresno County, Kern, Imperial Valley — California enacted the nation’s first heat rules for basic worker safety: water, shade, rest. Mercies you’d think needed no law. My fellow lawmakers and I who wrote those rules, along with then-Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger who signed them into law, believed they were enough. But two decades on, the grim reaper still walks the rows: 110 degrees, no tree, no tarp, a single water jug growing warm, its handle slick from dust and hands. Breaks denied, not from cruelty alone, but from the unrelenting clock of the harvest.

This is not a failure of the law itself, but of enforcement. Some treated the bill’s signing as the finish line instead of the starting gun. Inspectors are too few. Penalties too light. Investigations too slow. The state auditor’s latest report read like an obituary for Cal/OSHA’s credibility: outdated rules, missed chances, offices too empty to answer the phone.

Meanwhile the climate has turned meaner. Nights that once cooled now hold the day’s heat like a grudge. And the danger in the fields isn’t just the sun. Immigration raids now sweep through the Valley like dust storms — sudden, unannounced, merciless. For more than half of California’s 350,000 farmworkers, the greater threat isn’t heat stroke but a knock on the door before dawn or a traffic stop that ends with a vehicle full of workers detained and trucked to some distant site. The food that feeds the nation is pulled from the earth by people who work under triple-digit skies yet live in the shadows, where one complaint can cost them their job, their home, their freedom.

Twenty harvest seasons later, I’m calling for action — not another bill signing on the Capitol steps, but dollars, real and committed, and the regulations to match. With that will and funding, four simple fixes can turn promise into protection.

First, bring 21st century tools to the fields. In 2005, the “high-tech” solution was a plastic water jug in the shade and a flapping pop-up canopy. Today, for $50 — the price of two boxes of gloves — employers can deploy a wearable sensor clipped to a worker’s arm to track core temperature and heart rate, sending a warning before the body crosses the edge into heatstroke. That’s not Silicon Valley moonshot money. It’s pocket change for agribusiness, and for workers it could mean the difference between walking out of the rows or being carried out.

Second, enforce in real time. If a worker drops to one knee in the heat, the state shouldn’t hear about it days later in a report. Imagine a network linking growers, regulators and emergency crews to the same pulse of information — turning a slow, reactive system that documents tragedies into one that can act quickly and prevent many of them.

Third, train before the first row is picked. Ten minutes — no more — for workers to stand upright and learn, in their own language, the signs: dizziness, nausea, the creeping fog in the mind that means it’s time to stop. Not a photocopied handout in English tucked into an envelope behind a paycheck, not a rushed talk in Spanish at the field’s edge, but a verified safety course — certified by labor contractors and farmers alike. Knowledge here is as life-saving as water and shade.

Lastly, match the urgency we see in other arenas. While Cal/OSHA limps along, starved of staff and mired in red tape, Immigration and Customs Enforcement charges in the opposite direction — spurred by $170 billion in new funding, an immigration-enforcement and border-security blitz hiring thousands, dangling $50,000 signing bonuses, paying off student loans, waiving age limits, even pulling retirees back for double-dip salaries. That’s what happens when a government decides the wrong mission matters most. We pour urgency into chasing farmworkers from the fields, yet can’t muster the will to protect them in the heat. Until Cal/OSHA gets that same drive — inspectors recruited in every corner of the state, incentives to bring in a new generation, hurdles stripped away — the laws we wrote will remain a promise without a witness.

Some will say it’s too much, that the industry can’t bear the cost. But I’ve walked behind the hearses through Valley dust, stood in the gravel lots of farm town funeral homes, watched wives clutch work shirts as if they still held his warmth, seen children in Sunday clothes staring at the dirt. No budget line can measure that loss.

The Valley will keep feeding the nation. The question is whether we will keep feeding the graveyards too.

Once, by enacting heat safety rules, California declared that a life was worth more than a box of produce. If we let that promise wither in the heat, all we wrote back then was a press release. Government systems can fast-track billion-dollar projects, but until this much more affordable priority gets that kind of attention, the rules are just ink on paper, and the roll call of the dead just grows longer.

Dean Florez is a former California Senate majority leader, representing portions of the Central Valley.

Camarillo — Ever since federal immigration agents raided one of the largest licensed cannabis operators in the state this month, the phones of cannabis industry insiders have been blazing with messages of fear, sadness and confusion.

“It sent shock waves through the community,” said Hirsh Jain, the founder of Ananda Strategy, which advises cannabis businesses. “Everyone is on text threads.”

Glass House Brands, whose cannabis operations have helped make Santa Barbara and Ventura counties the new cannabis capitals of California, has long been among the most prominent companies in the state’s wild frontier of legal cannabis. Some call it the “Walmart of Weed” for its streamlined, low-cost production methods, its gargantuan market share and its phalanx of wealthy investors and powerful lobbyists.

But federal immigration agents stormed onto company property in Camarillo and Carpinteria on July 10 in a cloud of tear gas, as if they were busting a criminal enterprise. Agents in masks and riot gear marched for hours through the company’s vast greenhouses as workers fled and hid in panic. One worker, Jaime Alanís Garcia, died after he fell three stories while trying to evade capture.

For Glass House, the aftermath has been devastating. Its stock, which is traded on the Canadian stock exchange, dropped from more than $7.75 a share the day before the raid to $5.27 on Thursday. Some workers disappeared into Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention or bolted, too fearful to return. Others were so traumatized that Glass House brought in grief counselors, according to a source close to the company.

Glass House Brands has long been a prominent company in California’s wild frontier of legal cannabis.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

Across the wider world of legal California cannabis — where many growers and entrepreneurs have hoped the Trump administration would legalize the drug — people were also shaken. Did the action against Glass House signal an end to federal law enforcement’s ceasefire against legal cannabis in California and dozens of other states?

And what did it mean for Glass House itself, among the largest cannabis companies in the world? How could this slick corporate entity, founded by an ex-cop and special education teacher and a former tech entrepreneur, be in a position in which federal agents claimed to have apprehended more than a dozen undocumented minors on site?

“This could not come at a worse time,” said Jain, the cannabis consultant, adding that the images and rhetoric that have whipped across social media in the wake of the raid “impedes our ability to legitimize this industry in the eyes of California and the American public.”

He added that “a failure to legitimize a legal cannabis industry enables the proliferation of an illicit industry that is not accountable and engages in far more nefarious practices.”

Working conditions in the cannabis industry are notoriously grim, as documented in a 2022 Times investigation that revealed workers who had their wages stolen, were forced to live in squalid and dangerous conditions and sometimes even died on the job.

Glass House had no such reports of injuries or deaths before the raid and has long touted its working conditions. A source close to the company said it pays workers more than minimum wage, and internet job postings reflect that.

Still, as with almost all farmwork in California, some of those who labored there were undocumented. The company employs some people directly and relies on farm labor contractors to supply the rest of its workforce. A source close to the company said labor contractors certify that the workers satisfy all laws and regulations, including being 21 or older as required to work in cannabis in California.

In the days after the raid, federal officials announced they had detained 361 people, including 14 minors, who by California law cannot work in cannabis. It wasn’t clear how many of those detained were undocumented or how many were even working at the operation or were just nearby. At least two American citizens were caught up in the dragnet — a security guard headed to work at Glass House and a philosophy professor at Cal State Channel Islands who was protesting the raid.

Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem said this month that Glass House had been targeted because “we knew, specifically from casework we had built for weeks and weeks and weeks, that there was children there that could be trafficked, being exploited, that there was individuals there involved in criminal activity.”

Glass House officials declined to comment for this article, but in an earlier statement on X, the company said that it had never employed minors and that it followed all applicable employment laws. A source close to the company said the search warrant federal officials presented to Glass House the day of the raid alleged it was suspected of harboring and unlawfully employing undocumented immigrants — but did not mention child labor.

In the last few years, the company — along with labor contractors — was named in lawsuits by workers alleging they had been sexually harassed, suffered discrimination, and been shorted overtime pay and required meal and rest breaks.

One worker at Glass House — who asked not to be identified because he is undocumented and hid from immigration agents during the raid before escaping — said he was employed to work in Glass House’s cannabis operation through one of its labor contractors and valued the job because it is year round, not seasonal like many agricultural jobs.

But he complained that the contractor had repeatedly paid him late, forcing him to borrow money to make his rent. He also said supervisors put intense pressure on employees to work faster, screaming expletives at workers, refusing to allow breaks, or yelling at them to eat quickly and return to work before their rest periods were done.

A source close to the company said the complaints involved people employed by labor contractors, regarding actions by those contractors and not Glass House directly.

Many of the suits are pending, with Glass House named as a co-defendant. Company officials declined to comment publicly.

A source close to the company said Glass House takes seriously its responsibilities under California labor law and is committed to ensuring that all labor practices within its operations meet the highest standards.

The source added that the raid has shaken a company that has always tried to operate by the book and that, despite its exponential growth in recent years, has sought to maintain a close-knit feel.

“It’s very sad,” the source said.

In the wake of the raids at Glass House, the United Farm Workers union issued a bulletin in English and Spanish warning anyone who is not a U.S. citizen to “avoid working in the cannabis industry, even at state-licensed operations.” The union noted that “because cannabis remains criminalized under federal law, any contact with federal agencies could have serious consequences even for people with legal status.”

TODEC Legal Center, a Coachella Valley-based group that supports immigrants and farmworkers, issued a similar message. TODEC warned noncitizens to avoid working in the marijuana industry and avoid discussing any marijuana use or possession — even if it is legal in California — with federal agents, because it could hurt their status.

Federal agents conduct a raid of Glass House Brands on Laguna Road in Camarillo.

(Julie Leopo / For The Times)

About half the farmworkers in California are undocumented, according to UC Merced researchers. Cannabis industry experts said it is too soon to know whether the raid on Glass House will affect the larger cannabis workforce — or whether more licensed cannabis operations will be raided.

“My best guest would be that this is going to be happening to a lot more cultivation farms,” said Meilad Rafiei, chief executive of the cannabis consulting group We Cann.

Among the undocumented workers at Glass House on the day of the raids was Alanís, 56, who had been a farmworker in California for three decades. Over the last 10 years, Alanís worked in the Ventura area, first in a flower nursery and then, once Glass House converted the massive greenhouse complex there, in cannabis.

On Monday night, his family held an emotional wake for him in Oxnard, where he lived. The Camino del Sol Funeral Home was filled, as many family members held one another tightly and cried. They remembered him as a hardworking, joyful man, who danced at parties and enjoyed every meal he shared with family.

State Sen. Monique Limón (D-Goleta), who led the Senate in adjourning in Alanís’ memory last week, told the chamber how he had climbed onto the roof of a greenhouse to escape federal officers. From 30 feet up, she said, he called his family to tell them what was happening, and to report “how scared he was.”

“Jaime’s life was dedicated to our lands, our crops, and to providing for his family,” Limón said, adding that he “had had no criminal record, he was who our country and our state depended on to provide food on all of our tables.”

She added that “his last moments on Earth were filled with terror.”

OXNARD, Calif. — At 6 a.m. Wednesday, Juvenal Solano drove slowly along the cracked roads that border the fields of strawberry and celery that cloak this fertile expanse of Ventura County, his eyes peeled for signs of trouble.

An eerie silence hung over the morning. The workers who would typically be shuffling up and down the strawberry rows were largely absent. The entry gates to many area farms were shut and locked.

Still, Solano, a director with the Mixteco Indigena Community Organizing Project, felt relieved. Silence was better than the chaos that had broken out Tuesday when immigration agents raided fields in Oxnard and fanned out across communities in Ventura and Santa Barbara counties that grow a considerable portion of the state’s strawberries, avocados and celery.

The organization, part of a broader rapid-response network that offers support and counsel for workers targeted by immigration raids, was caught off guard when calls started pouring in from residents reporting federal agents gathering near fields. Group leaders say they have confirmed at least 35 people were detained in the raids, and are still trying to pin down exact numbers.

In the past week, Solano said, the organization had gotten scattered reports of immigration authorities arresting undocumented residents. But Tuesday, he said, marked a new level in approach and scope as federal agents tried to access fields and packinghouses. Solano, like other organizers, are wondering what their next move will be.

“If they didn’t show up in the morning, it’s possible they’ll show up in the afternoon,” Solano said. “We’re going to stay alert to everything that’s happening.”

While agents from Immigration and Customs Enforcement and Border Patrol showed up at food production sites from the Central Coast to the San Joaquin Valley, much of the activity centered on the Oxnard Plain. Maureen McGuire, chief executive of the Ventura County Farm Bureau, said federal agents visited five packing facilities and at least five farms in the region. Agents also stopped people on their way to work, she said.

In many cases, according to McGuire and community leaders, farm owners refused to grant access to the agents, who had no judicial warrants.

California, which grows more than one-third of the nation’s vegetables and more than three-quarters of its fruits and nuts, has long been dependent on undocumented labor to tend its crops. Though a growing number of farm laborers are migrants imported on a seasonal basis through the controversial H-2A visa program, at least half the state’s 255,700 farmworkers are undocumented immigrants, according to UC Merced research. Many have lived in California for years, and have put down roots and started families.

Juvenal Solano, with Mixteco Indigena Community Organizing Project, said Tuesday’s raids in Ventura County farm fields marked a dramatic escalation in tactics.

(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)

Until this week, California’s agricultural sector had largely escaped the large-scale raids that the Department of Homeland Security has deployed in urban areas, most recently in Los Angeles and Orange counties. California farmers — many of them ardent supporters of Donald Trump — have seemed remarkably calm as the president vowed mass deportations of undocumented workers.

Many expected that Trump would find ways to protect their workforce, noting that without sufficient workers, food would rot in the fields, sending grocery prices skyrocketing.

But this week brought a different message. Asked about enforcement actions in food production regions, Tom Homan, Trump’s chief adviser on border policy, said growers should hire a legal workforce.

“There are programs — you can get people to come in and do that job,” he said. “So work with ICE, work with [U.S. Citizen and Immigration Services], and hire a legal workforce. It’s illegal to knowingly hire an illegal alien.”

Ventura County strawberry fields had far fewer workers Wednesday, a day after federal agents targeted the region for immigration raids.

(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)

California’s two U.S. senators, both Democrats, issued a joint statement Wednesday decrying the farm raids, saying that targeting farmworkers for deportation would undermine businesses and families.

“Targeting hardworking farmworkers and their families who have been doing the backbreaking work in the fields for decades is unjustified and unconscionable,” Sens. Alex Padilla and Adam Schiff said in their statement.

The California Farm Bureau also issued a statement, warning that continued enforcement would disrupt production.

“We want to be very clear: California agriculture depends on and values its workforce,” said Bryan Little, senior director of policy advocacy at the California Farm Bureau. “We’re still early in the season, with limited harvest activity, but that will soon ramp up. If federal immigration enforcement activities continue in this direction, it will become increasingly difficult to produce food, process it and get it onto grocery store shelves.”

Arcenio Lopez, executive director of MICOP, said he is especially concerned about the prospect of Indigenous workers being detained, because many cannot read or write in English or Spanish, and speak only their Indigenous languages. The organization’s leaders suspect that many of those detained Tuesday are Indigenous, and are rushing to find them before they sign documents for voluntary deportation that they don’t understand. They’re urging that anyone who gets arrested call their hotline, where they offer legal assistance.

Rob Roy, president of the Ventura County Agricultural Association, said he has been warning growers since November that this time would come and providing training on their legal rights. Many know to ask for search warrants, he said. But that still leaves undocumented workers vulnerable on their way to and from work.

“I think overall here, they’re fairly safe on the farms or the building,” Roy said. “But when they leave work, they’re very concerned.”

Elaine Yompian, an organizer with VC Defensa, said she is urging families to stay home, if possible, to avoid exposure.

“We actually told a lot of the families who contacted us, if you can potentially not work today, don’t go,” Yompian said, adding that they are able to provide limited support to families through donations they receive.

Families whose loved ones have been detained are struggling to understand what comes next, she said.

“People are terrified; they don’t know at what point they’re going to be targeted,” Yompian said. “The narrative that they’re taking criminals or taking bad people off the streets is completely false. They’re taking the working-class people that are just trying to get by.”

This article is part of The Times’ equity reporting initiative, funded by the James Irvine Foundation, exploring the challenges facing low-income workers and the efforts being made to address California’s economic divide.