ice agent

LAREDO, Texas — A month after ICE agents sent the young Ecuadoran mother and her 7-year-old daughter to a sprawling detention center 1,300 miles from their Minnesota home, they were finally free.

But when the bus pulled up to a migrant shelter in the Texas border city of Laredo, dropping off a half-dozen families lugging bags stuffed with belongings, the stress of recent weeks tracked mother and daughter like the long shadows on that mid-February afternoon.

Night after night inside south Texas’ Dilley Immigration Processing Center with hundreds of other families, the grade-schooler wept and pleaded to know why they were being held.

“She would tell me, ‘Mom, what crime did I commit to be a prisoner?’ I didn’t know what to tell her,” said the 29-year-old, who spoke on condition of anonymity for fear being identified could negatively affect their immigration case. Her husband was deported to Ecuador soon after they were taken into custody.

Many Americans were alarmed last month when photos circulated showing U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents in Minneapolis detaining a 5-year-old boy wearing a bunny hat and carrying a Spider-Man backpack. The concern followed Liam Conejo Ramos and his father when they were sent to Dilley, surrounded by chain-link fences on a dusty plain about 75 miles south of San Antonio.

But Liam was hardly an outlier. ICE has been holding hundreds of children at Dilley — many for months.

“We are all Liam,” Christian Hinojosa, an immigrant from Mexico, said by phone from Dilley, where she and her 13-year-old son were held for more than four months. They were released this month and allowed to return home to San Antonio, where she works as a health aide.

She noted that Liam and his father were released from Dilley after 10 days, after members of Congress and a judge intervened.

“My son says, ‘That’s unfair, Mama. What’s the difference between him and us?’”

Ramping up family detentions

When the Obama administration opened Dilley in 2014, nearly all families detained there had recently crossed the border from Mexico. Detentions at the facility were scaled back by the Biden administration in 2021, before it was closed three years later.

Since being reopened by President Trump’s administration last spring, life inside Dilley — a compound of trailers and other prefabricated buildings — has been shaped by three decisive changes.

The number of detained families has risen sharply since last fall. The government is holding many children well beyond the 20-day limit set by long-standing court order. And many detainees have lived in the U.S. for several years, with roots in neighborhoods, workplaces and schools, according to lawyers and other observers.

“Just imagine that you’re a child and you’re taken out of your surroundings,” said Philip Schrag, a Georgetown University law professor and author of “Baby Jails: The Fight to End the Incarceration of Refugee Children in America.”

Suddenly you’re in “a completely strange environment with the doors locked and guards in uniform roaming around,” said Schrag, who counseled Dilley detainees as a volunteer lawyer during the Obama administration.

ICE booked more than 3,800 children into detention during the first nine months of the new Trump administration, according to an Associated Press analysis of data from UC Berkeley’s Deportation Data Project. On an average day, more than 220 children were held, with most of those detained longer than 24 hours sent to Dilley. More than half of Dilley detainees during that period were children.

Nearly two-thirds of children detained by ICE were eventually deported, and almost 1 in 10 left the country when their parents accepted voluntary departure, according to an AP analysis of the latest comprehensive data. About a quarter were released in the U.S., requiring their parents to check in regularly with ICE as their legal cases proceed.

The number of detainees at Dilley has risen sharply since the period covered by the data, nearly tripling between fall and late January to more than 1,300, according to Relevant Research, which analyzes immigration enforcement data.

“We’ve started to use 100 days as a benchmark for prioritizing cases because so many children are exceeding 20 days,” said Leecia Welch, the chief legal director at Children’s Rights, who visits Dilley regularly to ensure compliance. In a visit this month, Welch said she counted more than 30 children who had been held for over 100 days.

The increased detention of children comes as the Trump administration has gutted a Department of Homeland Security office responsible for oversight of conditions inside Dilley and other facilities.

“It’s a particular concern that family detention is being increased,” said Dr. Pamela McPherson, a child and adolescent psychiatrist contracted by Homeland Security from 2014 until last year to inspect and investigate conditions at Dilley and other ICE facilities holding children. “Just who’s providing that check and balance now?”

Rep. Tony Gonzales (R-Texas), who represents the congressional district where Dilley is located, said multiple visits have convinced him criticism of the center is unfair.

He said he’d been impressed by Dilley’s facilities and the professionalism and dedication of staff. “They’re not doing policy. They’re just fulfilling a duty,” Gonzales said.

The Homeland Security Department did not respond to detailed questions about Dilley submitted by the AP. But both Homeland Security and ICE objected to allegations of poor care and conditions there.

“The Dilley facility is a family residential center designed specifically to house family units in a safe, structured and appropriate environment,” ICE Director Todd M. Lyons said in a statement this week. Services include medical screenings, infant care packages and classrooms and recreational spaces, he noted.

But concerns about Dilley are personal for Kheilin Valero Marcano, a Venezuelan immigrant detained with her husband and 1-year-old daughter, Amalia, in December and held for nearly two months.

When the child got a high fever, Valero Marcano said Dilley staff told her it was just a virus. Two weeks later, Amalia started vomiting, then losing weight. Valero Marcano said she took her to the Dilley doctor’s office at least eight times, and was offered only Tylenol and ibuprofen.

The baby was eventually sent to two hospitals, where doctors diagnosed COVID-19, bronchitis, pneumonia and stomach virus, she said.

ICE disputed Valero Marcano’s account, saying in a statement the baby “immediately received proper medical care” at Dilley before being sent to the hospital. Back in Dilley, “she was in the medical unit and received proper treatment and prescribed medicines,” it said.

The family’s return to Dilley coincided with a measles outbreak there. They were released earlier this month after their lawyers petitioned the court.

“I’m so worried for all the families who are still inside,” Valero Marcano said.

A teen in distress

After more than two months in a cramped room at Dilley with three other families, the 13-year-old girl’s depression turned increasingly dark.

The eighth-grader stopped eating after finding a worm in her food, family members said. Staff sometimes withheld medications she’d long been prescribed to keep her anxiety in check and help her sleep.

When a total lockdown was imposed, a guard blocked the teen from leaving the crowded room to join her mother and sister in the bathroom. She spiraled into crisis, and used a plastic knife from the cafeteria to cut her wrist.

“She said she didn’t want to live anymore because she preferred to die rather than having to keep living in confinement,” her mother, Andrea Armero, told the AP in a video call from Colombia, where the family was deported this month. The AP generally avoids identifying people who attempt or die by suicide.

The girl’s struggles began before she arrived at Dilley. Soon after starting middle school in Colombia, she learned a family member had sexually abused her younger sister. Armero said she saw no option but to leave, and in early 2024 she and her daughters traveled to the U.S.-Mexico border and applied for asylum.

Living with family in Florida, the 13-year-old was doing well in school but sometimes experienced panic attacks about being sent back to Colombia. Under a psychiatrist’s care, she was prescribed anti-anxiety and anti-depression medications and regularly saw a therapist. Then, in December, ICE agents detained Armero and her daughters during a routine check-in.

At Dilley, the 13-year-old calmed herself by drawing, producing haunting pictures of a girl locked inside gates. But when she and other detainees took part in a protest after 5-year-old Liam and his father got to Dilley, guards took away drawing materials and ordered everyone to stay inside.

The teen’s mental health collapsed. She tried to harm herself with the plastic knife, Armero said, and repeatedly hit her head. The family was put into isolation without seeing a doctor, then deported to Colombia on Feb. 11 after a judge ordered them removed, she said.

Dilley discharge documents described “active problems,” including a “suicide attempt by cutting of wrist” and “self-harm,” in addition to a “history of post-traumatic stress disorder” and “history of anxiety.” AP also spoke with detainees and attorneys who independently described the girl’s suicide attempt.

Responding to questions from AP, a Department of Homeland Security official acknowledged there had been “a case of self-harm” inside the facility, but did not specify what had happened, or how staff handled the incident. When AP asked for details, the department did not respond to follow-up questions.

“No child at Dilley … has been denied medical treatment or experienced a delayed medical assessment,” said Ryan Gustin, a spokesman for CoreCivic, the for-profit prison company that operates the facility under contract with ICE. Gustin declined to answer specific questions about the 13-year-old girl, citing privacy rules.

Detention weighs on children

On a phone call from inside Dilley, 13-year-old Gustavo Santino-Josa introduced himself to a reporter by name and the nine-digit identification number ICE assigned him when he was taken into custody with his mother.

“Until today I don’t know what we did wrong to get detained,” Gustavo said. “I’ve seen my mom cry almost daily, and I ask God that we can go out and go home soon.”

He worried they might never be released.

“My mom says that as long as there is hope it is worth fighting for,” Gustavo said before handing the phone to his mother, Christian Hinojosa, the healthcare aide originally from Mexico.

“All his friends have left already,” his mother said. “Some were deported. Some got released recently. And it hurts. It hurts to see people leaving and you’re staying here.”

Dilley was built to hold 2,400 people, housed in clusters ICE calls “neighborhoods.” Bunk beds are arranged side-by-side for up to four families, frequently putting parents with young children in close quarters.

Once in full operation, Dilley is expected to generate about $180 million in annual revenue for CoreCivic, according to the company’s recent filing with securities regulators.

In a video on its website, CoreCivic says Dilley’s “open campus layout allows residents to move freely and unescorted throughout the day.”

It does not mention that parents and their children are locked inside.

In response to questions from the AP, CoreCivic’s Gustin said the staff at Dilley includes a pediatrician, pediatric nurse practitioner and other trained medical professionals and mental health services workers to “meet the needs of children and families in our care.”

In talks with parents of children held at Dilley, however, the same problems come up repeatedly, said Welch, the children’s rights lawyer.

Kids cry often and don’t get enough sleep, in part because lights are on around the clock, she said. The water tastes terrible and causes stomachaches and rashes, so some families stick to what they can buy in the commissary.

Their children don’t eat enough and have lost weight, Welch said. There are classrooms, but instruction is limited to an hour daily, mostly filling out worksheets.

A 14-year-old girl, identified in court papers by the initials NVSM, reported there were tensions with up to 12 people sharing their room. At night when she and her mother tried to sleep, others insisted on turning up the TV.

“I feel very sad and stressed to be here,” the teen said in an account filed with the court that oversees a binding settlement governing detention and release of children. “My nerves are so high. I don’t know what is happening. My muscles will twitch because I’m so nervous and on edge.”

Concerns about oversight

As the government’s detention of parents and their children came under scrutiny in 2014, an ICE official claimed that family detention centers, equipped with basketball courts and medical clinics, were “more like a summer camp.”

The characterization irritated McPherson, the child psychiatrist who, along with another physician, was retained in 2014 by Homeland Security to inspect family detention centers. Their contracts were not renewed by the Trump administration last year after Homeland Security announced sweeping staff reductions.

“Having a clean place to sleep, having food, that’s not the same thing as having family and community,” McPherson said.

The doctors’ investigations of family detention centers exposed consistently inadequate staffing and disregard by administrators for the trauma caused by detention, concerns they reported in 2018 to a Senate caucus set up to hear from whistleblowers.

At Dilley, the doctors noted a persistent shortage of pediatricians and the inability to hire a child psychiatrist from the time they began their inspections until they alerted senators.

Employees unsure how to deal with 2-year-olds biting and hitting one another placed the children and their parents in medical isolation for days, McPherson and her colleague told senators. Without supervision, a nurse at Dilley gave adult-strength hepatitis A shots to about 250 children in 2015, the American Immigration Lawyers Assn. reported.

Homeland Security responded to many of the findings by making changes before a special committee recommended in late 2016 that the government discontinue family detention except in rare cases. The first Trump administration increased family detention before the Biden administration began phasing it out in 2021.

That the Trump administration is again holding families at Dilley after so many warnings feels “dystopian,” McPherson said.

“The decision to knowingly traumatize children and subject them to chronic stress, I just have no words for it,” she said.

Worries even after release

Huddled around picnic tables at the Laredo migrant shelter, parents released from Dilley searched anxiously for flights back to the homes they left behind. They called relatives, friends, teachers, anyone who might help with money to get there.

The young Ecuadoran mom talked of returning to Minneapolis, where her 2-year-old daughter, born in the U.S., was staying with a friend. With her husband deported, parenting will be entirely her responsibility.

That means getting her 7-year-old back in school. Then the woman, who had a work permit and a job in a Minneapolis restaurant before being detained, needs to keep her children fed.

“Let’s go home, Mom, but don’t go back to work because ICE is going to pick you up again,” the little girl said. Her mother tried to reassure her.

That won’t happen, she said, because now they have a special paper telling ICE to leave them alone.

She hopes that’s a promise she can keep.

Burke, Geller and Gonzalez write for the Associated Press. AP data reporter Aaron Kessler in Washington contributed to this report.

MILAN — Italian police fired tear gas and a water cannon at dozens of protesters who threw firecrackers and tried to access a highway near a Winter Olympics venue Saturday.

The brief confrontation came at the end of a peaceful march by thousands highlighting the environmental impact of the Games and the presence of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents in Italy.

Police held off the demonstrators, who appeared to be trying to reach the Santagiulia Olympic ice hockey rink. By then, the larger peaceful protest, including students and families with small children, had dispersed.

Earlier, a group of masked protesters had set off smoke bombs and firecrackers on a bridge overlooking a construction site about half a mile from the Olympic Village that’s housing about 1,500 athletes.

Police vans behind a temporary metal fence secured the road to the athletes’ village, but the protest veered away, continuing on a trajectory toward the Santagiulia venue. A heavy police presence guarded the entire route.

There was no indication that the protest and resulting road closure interfered with athletes’ transfers to their events, all on the outskirts of Milan.

The demonstration coincided with U.S. Vice President JD Vance’s visit to Milan as head of the American delegation that attended the opening ceremony Friday, during which Vance was booed.

He and his family visited Leonardo da Vinci’s “The Last Supper” closer to the city center, far from the protest that denounced the deployment of ICE agents to provide security for the U.S. delegation. ICE has drawn international condemnation for its role in the Trump administration’s aggressive immigration crackdown in U.S. cities, including the fatal shooting of two people in Minneapolis last month by ICE and U.S. Border Patrol agents.

U.S. Homeland Security Investigations, an ICE unit that focuses on cross-border crimes, frequently sends its officers to overseas events like the Olympics to assist with security. The ICE arm at the forefront of the immigration crackdown in the U.S. is known as Enforcement and Removal Operations, and there is no indication its officers are being sent to Italy.

At the larger, peaceful demonstration, which police said numbered 10,000, people carried cardboard cutouts to represent trees felled to build the new bobsled run in Cortina d’Ampezzo. A group of dancers performed to beating drums. Music blasted from a truck leading the march, one a profanity-laced anti-ICE anthem.

“Let’s take back the cities and free the mountains,” read a banner by a group calling itself the Unsustainable Olympic Committee. Another group called the Assn. of Proletariat Excursionists organized the cutout trees.

“They bypassed the laws that usually are needed for major infrastructure projects, citing urgency for the Games,” said protester Guido Maffioli, who expressed concern that the private entity organizing the Games would eventually pass on debt to Italian taxpayers.

Homemade signs read “Get out of the Games: Genocide States, Fascist Police and Polluting Sponsors,” the final one a reference to fossil fuel companies that are sponsors of the Games. One woman carried an artificial tree on her back decorated with the sign: “Infernal Olympics.”

The demonstration followed another recently at which hundreds protested the deployment of ICE agents.

Like that protest, demonstrators Saturday said they were opposed to ICE agents’ presence, despite official statements that a small number of agents from an investigative arm would be present in U.S. diplomatic territory, and not operational on the streets.

Barry and Rosa write for the Associated Press.

Frank Clem, a pickleball pal of mine, recently put out the word that he was collecting whistles to deliver to the front lines of anti-ICE demonstrations in downtown Los Angeles, Highland Park, Pasadena and other locations.

I was out of the country at the time, but shortly after I returned, I thought about Clem when Minneapolis nurse Alex Pretti was shot dead by ICE agents at a protest in Minnesota. It wasn’t long before the Trump administration’s top officials took turns blaming the victim, lying about the circumstances and calling Pretti an assassin.

Pretti’s distraught parents responded with this:

“The sickening lies told about our son by the administration are reprehensible and disgusting.”

And yet entirely unsurprising, given the state of disinformation and the blatant corruption of legal and moral codes of conduct under Trump, who just the other day was blowing gas yet again about the 2020 election being stolen.

How do you stand up to a president who hypocritically pardons drug kingpins and other rabble, including the barbarians who beat up cops and ransacked the Capitol, even as he invades cities to terrorize and abduct working people?

Maybe you blow a whistle, for starters.

I know, it’s a small gesture. But Clem and others are choosing sides, standing up for their communities, and refusing to remain silent as it becomes clear that the ICE agenda is less about law and order and more about the politics of scapegoating.

I came upon a story on Fox11 about a broader whistle brigade in Los Angeles. Musician Hector Flores, of Las Cafeteras, said he had been distributing free whistles to coffee shops because “we’ve got to protect one another,” and a whistle can sound the alarm that ICE agents are on the prowl.

If Trump were honest about rounding up violent criminals, we wouldn’t need this kind of resistance. But arrests of immigrants with no criminal records are increasing, and the majority of them are here to work and support their families. And U.S. employers have embraced and relied on them as essential contributors to the economy.

When I couldn’t immediately get hold of Flores, I called the owner of Cafe de Leche, the Highland Park coffee shop he had delivered whistles to. Matt Schodorf told me he was fresh out of whistles, and I thought of Clem, who agreed to meet me at Cafe de Leche with a special delivery.

Clem, an actor, is someone you want on your pickleball team because he comes to play and he covers a lot of ground. You might have seen him in theater productions, on TV shows or in movies, and you couldn’t possibly not have seen him as the emu farmer in a Liberty Mutual commercial.

Clem walked past a window sign that says “I Like My Coffee Without ICE” and took a seat at Cafe de Leche. He was wearing an L.A. ballcap and carrying a shopping bag containing hundreds of whistles.

A sign reading “I like my coffee without ICE” is posted in the window of Cafe de Leche in Highland Park. Cafe owners Matt and Anya Schodorf have been giving away whistles to customers to be used for ICE sightings and at demonstrations.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

Black whistles. Red whistles. Whistles with strings and whistles with hooks to clip onto key chains.

Enough for a symphony.

“It’s 18, 20 bucks for, like, a hundred whistles,” Clem said, displaying a sandwich-size baggie of 100 multicolored whistles in the shape of small pencils.

Clem has been buying them in bulk on the internet, accepting donated whistles from friends, and making his with a 3D printer. He said he had already given away more than 1,500 the last few weeks at rallies and demonstrations.

People smile, Clem said, “when they see the possibilities,” when they join the chorus and the cause, and rather than retreat in silence, make themselves heard. Stiff opposition to ICE atrocities in Minneapolis has led to the withdrawal of hundreds of agents, so maybe a corner is being turned.

“We’re blowing $20 on coffee, right?” Clem said. “But here’s $20 you can spend on something and really feel like you’re getting some kind of return on it. … Throw me 100 whistles, and we’ll get them into the hands of people that might make a difference.”

Schodorf joined us with a cleaned-out whistle rack that said “Free Ice Alarms” on it, and said he’d be glad to fill the rack with Clem’s contributions. Before long, it was loaded up with 100 whistles and placed on the front counter.

When I asked Schodorf about joining ranks with the whistle brigade, he mentioned his wife, Cafe de Leche co-owner Anya Schodorf.

“She grew up here, but she was born in Nicaragua,” he said, and it’s hard to not to get involved when “they’re just profiling people right off the streets. I mean, nobody feels safe … and they’re charging the brown people, right? My wife would identify as that, and she’s afraid to go out of the house.”

Schodorf said they’ve been scrambling to keep the business running after they lost their Cafe de Leche restaurant in the fire that tore through Altadena a year ago. A photo of them in the ruins of their other shop hung on the wall, along with other photos of the destruction in Altadena.

“I don’t know what to do,” Schodorf said about the ICE tactics in Highland Park and beyond, “but I feel like we want to raise the voices of people.”

His wife entered the shop and greeted friends and customers before joining us. She has been a U.S. citizen for decades, and yet she feels as though the color of her skin makes her a suspect.

Anya and Matt Schodorf, owners of Cafe de Leche in Highland Park, talk about their fears about ICE in the community.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

“You can scream from the top of your lungs that you’re a citizen, and they don’t care,” Anya said. “I honestly can’t think straight … and it’s really hard for me to concentrate.”

Anya said she walks and sometimes runs on Arroyo trails but has begun taking extra precautions, like calling her husband and leaving the line open. She went to a park in Pasadena recently and got worried after entering a restroom.

“I heard … a commotion outside and I got nervous,” Anya said. “And then I came out and saw ICE people kind of harassing the workers, like city workers. They’re city landscapers, and I panicked. I went back into the bathroom, like, what do I do? And why should I be panicky? I’m a citizen.”

Her kids are just as concerned about her as she is.

“It’s my son I really worry about,” Anya said. “He says, ‘Make sure you have your passport.’ Yeah, my kids. They’re really worried. And my son is like, please be careful. … It’s that additional stress that they don’t need — that they have to worry about me.”

The Schodorfs said ICE agents recently grabbed a neighborhood fixture — a guy who sells tamales.

“They’re just picking people off, right and left,” Matt said.

“He’s like 72,” Anya said.

The first whistles delivered by Hector Flores were gone before long.

“It was just a matter of hours,” Matt said. “I think it’s twofold. It’s people who think they might need it just for themselves, but it’s people who feel like they might need it for other people. … It’s been wildly popular.”

“We’re a good country,” Anya said. “But we’re falling into the hands of people that are cruel and they don’t really care about anyone but themselves, and they are enriching themselves.”

Clem said that at rallies, he’s making sure to offer whistles to vendors.

“People selling hot dogs and churros,” he said. “They’re asking how many they can take for their families and friends, right? I want them to take as many as they can. I’ve got 1,500 of these things sitting on my dining room table.”

Clem said he was never really a protester, but “anyone who has eyes can see” the alarming level of corruption coming out of the White House.

“My dad fought in the Battle of the Bulge, right?” Clem said. “My dad fought Nazis and fascists in World War II, and he was always warning me growing up that it could happen here. So now, the least I can do is pass out whistles.”

When Clem’s whistles were on display at the counter, one of the first customers was Hana McElroy. She ordered a coffee and took a whistle.

“I’m a nanny, and I pick up a couple of kids from their preschool and I know and love so many kids with parents in pretty tenuous situations,” said McElroy, who is Irish American. “It’s just been a scary time to be an Angeleno.”

Hana McElroy, right, picks up a free whistle while ordering a cup of coffee from Soleil Hernando at Cafe de Leche.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

McElroy said she knows some of the Latina nannies who take their charges to the little park across the street from Cafe de Leche, and she worries about them too.

McElroy showed me a whistle on her key chain but said it was broken. Soleil Hernando, a barista, told her after she’d taken one of Clem’s whistles that they were free, and she should take as many as she wanted.

McElroy grabbed another.

steve.lopez@latimes.com

After the recent shootings of U.S. citizens Renee Good and Alex Pretti by federal agents in Minneapolis, some police chiefs have joined the mounting criticism of the Trump administration’s immigration blitz.

One voice missing from the fray: LAPD Chief Jim McDonnell.

This week, the chief reiterated that the department has a close working relationship with federal law enforcement, and said he would not order his officers to enforce a new state law — currently being challenged as unconstitutional — that prohibits the use of face coverings by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement and other federal agents.

Top police brass nationwide rarely criticize their federal partners, relying on collaboration to investigate gangs, extremist groups and other major criminals — while also counting on millions in funding from Washington each year.

McDonnell and the LAPD have found themselves in an especially tough position, longtime department observers say. The city has been roiled by immigration raids and protests, and local leaders, including Mayor Karen Bass, have blasted the White House. But with the World Cup and Olympics coming soon — events that will require coordination with the feds — the chief has been choosing his words carefully.

Over the past year, McDonnell has fallen back on the message that the LAPD has a long-standing policy of not getting involved in civil immigration enforcement. Unlike his counterparts in Minneapolis, Portland and Philadelphia, he has largely avoided public comment on the tactics used by federal agents, saving his strongest criticism for protesters accused of vandalism or violence.

In a radio interview last spring, the chief said that “it’s critical that in a city as big, a city that’s as big a target for terrorism as Los Angeles, that we have a very close working relationship with federal, state and local partners.” He boasted that the LAPD had “best relationship in the nation in that regard.”

McDonnell stood beside FBI Director Kash Patel on an airport tarmac last week to announce the capture of a Canadian former Olympic snowboarder accused of trafficking tons of cocaine through Los Angeles. Then, at a news conference Thursday in which city officials touted historically low homicide totals, McDonnell said LAPD officials were as “disturbed” as everyone else by events in other parts of the country, alluding to Pretti’s shooting without mentioning him by name. He said the department would continue to work closely with federal agencies on non-immigration matters.

Explaining his stance on not enforcing the mask ban, McDonnell said he wouldn’t risk asking his officers to approach “another armed agency creating conflict for something that” amounted to a misdemeanor offense.

“It’s not a good policy decision and it wasn’t well thought out in my opinion,” he said.

Elsewhere, law enforcement leaders, civil rights advocates and other legal experts have decried how ICE agents and other federal officers have been flouting best practices when making street arrests, conducting crowd control and maintaining public safety amid mass protests.

After a shooting by agents of two people being sought for arrest in Portland, Ore., in mid-January, the city’s chief of police gave a tearful news conference saying he had sought to understand Latino residents “through your voices, your concern, your fear, your anger.”

Philadelphia Sheriff Rochelle Bilal set off a social media firestorm after she referred to ICE agents as “made-up, fake, wannabe law enforcement.”

In Minneapolis, where the Trump administration has deployed 3,000 federal agents, police Chief Brian O’Hara reportedly warned his officers in private that they would lose their jobs if they failed to intervene when federal agents use force. And in a news conference this week, New Orleans’ police superintendent questioned ICE’s arrest of one of the agency’s recruits.

The second-guessing has also spread to smaller cities like Helena, Mont., whose city’s police chief pulled his officers out of a regional drug task force over its decision to collaborate with U.S. Border Patrol agents.

Over the weekend, the International Assn. of Chiefs of Police, the nation’s largest and most influential police chief group, called on the White House to convene local, state and federal law enforcement partners for “policy-level discussions aimed at identifying a constructive path forward.”

McDonnell’s backers argue that the role of chief is apolitical, though many of his predecessors became national voices that shaped public safety policy. Speaking out, the chief’s supporters say, risks inviting backlash from the White House and could also affect the long pipeline of federal money the department relies on, for instance, to help fund de-escalation training for officers.

Assemblyman Mark González (D-Los Angeles) was among those who opposed McDonnell over his willingness to work with ICE while serving as Los Angeles County sheriff, but said he now considers him a “great partner” who has supported recent anti-crime legislation.

So he said was disappointed by McDonnell’s unwillingness to call out racial profiling and excessive force by federal agents in Minneapolis and elsewhere.

“We have to trust in a chief who is able to say ICE engaging and detaining 5-year-old kids and detaining flower vendors is not what this system was set up to do,” said González, the Assembly’s majority whip. “It would help when you’d have law enforcement back up a community that they serve.”

Inside the LAPD, top officials have supported McDonnell’s balancing act, suggesting that promises by officials in other cities to detain ICE agents rang hollow.

“Have you seen them arrest any? No,” said Deputy Chief Alan Hamilton.

LAPD officers serve on nearly three dozen task forces with federal officials, where they share information and resources to track down criminals, said Hamilton, the department’s chief of detectives. Cooperating with federal partners is essential to tasks including combating “human trafficking on Figueroa” and dismantling international theft rings, he said. As part of these investigations, both sides pool intelligence — arrangements that some privacy rights groups warn are now being exploited in the government’s immigration crackdown.

Hamilton said that “there’s nothing occurring right now that’s going to affect our relationship with the federal government across the board.”

Art Acevedo, a former chief in Houston and Miami, said that for any big-city chief, taking an official position on an issue as divisive as immigration can be complicated.

Being seen as coming out against President Trump comes with “some political risks,” he said.

But chiefs in immigrant-rich cities like Houston and L.A. must weigh that against the potentially irreparable damage to community trust from failing to condemn the recent raids, he said.

“When you don’t speak out, the old adage that silence is deafening is absolutely true. You end up losing the public and you end up putting your own people at risk,” he said. “The truth is that when you are police chief you have a bully pulpit, and what you say or fail to say is important.”

Those with experience on the federal side of the issue said it cuts both ways.

John Sandweg, the former director of ICE under President Obama, said that federal authorities need local cops and the public to feed them info and support operations, but the immigration agency’s “zero tolerance” approach was putting such cooperation “in jeopardy.”

“Ideally, in a perfect world, ICE is able to work within immigrant communities to identify the really bad actors,” he said. “But when you have this zero tolerance, when the quantity of arrests matters far more than the quality of arrests, you eliminate any ability to have that cooperation.”

Times staff writers Brittny Mejia, Ruben Vives and the Associated Press contributed to this report.