sen. alex padilla

WASHINGTON — U.S. Sen. Alex Padilla announced Tuesday that he will not run for California governor next year, ending months of speculation about the possibility of the Democrat vying to succeed Gov. Gavin Newsom.

“It is with a full heart and even more commitment than ever that I am choosing to not run for governor of California next year,” Padilla told reporters outside his Senate office in Washington.

Padilla instead said he will focus on countering President Trump’s agenda in Congress, where Democrats are currently on the minority in both the House and Senate, but hope to regain some political clout after the 2026 midterm elections.

“I choose not just to stay in the Senate. I choose to stay in this fight because the constitution is worth fighting for. Our fundamental rights are worth fighting for. Our core values are worth fighting for. The American dream is worth fighting for,” he said.

Padilla said his decision was influenced by his belief that under President Trump, “these are not normal times.”

“We deserve better than this,” he said.

Many contenders, no clear favorite

Padilla’s decision to bow out of the 2026 governor’s race will leave a prominent name out of an already crowded contest with many contenders but not a clear favorite.

For much of the year, the field was essentially frozen in place as former Vice President Kamala Harris debated whether she would run, with many donors and major endorsers staying out of the game. Harris said at the end of July that she wouldn’t run. But another potential candidate — billionaire developer Rick Caruso — remains a question mark.

Caruso said Monday night that he was still considering running for either governor or Los Angeles mayor, and will decide in the next few weeks.

“It’s a really tough decision,” Caruso said. “Within a few weeks or so, or something like that, I’ll probably have a decision made. It’s a big topic of discussion in the house with my kids and my wife.”

Major Democratic candidates include former Orange County Rep. Katie Porter, former U.S. Health and Human Services Secretary Xavier Becerra, former Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa, current California Supt. of Public Instruction Tony Thurmond, former state Controller Betty Yee and wealthy businessman Stephen Cloobeck. Riverside County Sheriff Chad Bianco and conservative commentator Steve Hilton are the most prominent Republicans running.

Amid fire recovery aftermath, immigration raids and a high-octane redistricting battle, California voters have yet to turn their attention to next year’s gubernatorial matchup, despite the vast power Newsom’s successor will wield. California is now the world’s fourth-largest economy, and policy decisions in the Golden State often have global repercussions. Newsom is nearing the end of his second and final term.

Recent polling shows the contest as wide open, with nearly 4 in 10 voters surveyed saying they are undecided, though Porter had a slight edge as the top choice in the poll. She and Bianco were the only candidates whose support cracked the double digits.

Candidates still have months to file their paperwork before the June 2 primary to replace Newsom.

June incident brought attention

Known for soft-spoken confidence and a lack of bombast, Padilla’s public profile soared in June after he found himself cuffed by federal agents, at the center of a staggering viral moment during a news conference by Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem.

Despite identifying himself, Padilla was tackled after trying to interrupt Noem with a question. The manhandling of California’s senior senator was filmed by a staffer and broadcast around the world, provoking searing and widespread condemnation.

Days later, Vice President JD Vance joked about the incident and referred to Padilla — his former Senate colleague — as “Jose Padilla,” a misnaming that Padilla suggested was intentional and others characterized as racist.

The event put Padilla on the national spotlight and rumors of Padilla’s interest in the gubernatorial race ignited in late August.

Padilla told reporters on Tuesday that he received an “outpouring of encouragement and offers of support for the idea” of his candidacy and that he had “taken it to heart”

Alongside his wife, Angela, the senator said he also heard from many people urging him to keep his fight going in Washington.

“Countless Californians have urged me to do everything i could to protect California and the American Dream from a vindictive president who seems hell bent on raising costs for working families, rolling back environmental protections, cutting access to healthcare, jeopardizing reproductive rights and more,” he said.

Padilla said he had listened.

“I will continue to thank them and honor their support by continuing to work together for a better future,” he said.

Ceballos reported from Washington, Wick from Los Angeles. Times staff writer Noah Goldberg, in Los Angeles, contributed to this report.

JD Vance could have bungled Sen. Alex Padilla’s name in any number of ways. Al. Allen. Alexis.

But no, he went straight to José.

After the vice president parachuted in last Friday to basically troll Los Angeles, Vance made his now-infamous remark:

“I was hoping José Padilla would be here to ask a question. But unfortunately I guess he decided not to show up because there wasn’t a theater.”

“Theater” is how Vance described what happened a week earlier, when Padilla was handcuffed and detained at the federal building in Westwood for trying to pose a question to Homeland Security head Kristi Noem at a news conference.

The only wannabe thespian that day was Noem, who channeled her inner Evita when claiming that the deployment of nearly 5,000 National Guard troops and Marines to clamp down on L.A. activists trying to stop la migra from conducting immigration raids was necessary “to liberate this city from the socialist and burdensome leadership” of Gov. Gavin Newsom and L.A. Mayor Karen Bass.

“José” is what Vance thinks of Alex. Anyone who thinks this was a slip of the tongue doesn’t know their anti-Latino history.

For over a century, Americans have used Spanish first names as catchall slurs against Latinos. Mexican men were dismissed as violent Panchos and stupid Pedros. Latinas of all backgrounds have endured being typecast as a slutty Maria or subservient Lupe.

“José” was originally deployed against Puerto Ricans, according to the Historical Dictionary of American Slang. By the 1970s, because of the name’s ubiquity, racists had adopted it to describe all Latino men. The Social Security Administration lists José as the most common Hispanic name for boys over the last 100 years.

Vance’s misnaming of Padilla “was the perfect linguistic and class storm,” said San Diego State English professor William Nericcio, who has spent his career documenting the psychology behind anti-Latino racism in this country. “The vice president was proclaiming to Sen. Padilla, ‘Yeah, I know you. I don’t even remember your name. That’s how little you mean. You’re a José. You’re a nothing, a nobody, a dirty Mexican.’”

Sen. Alex Padilla (D-Calif.) is removed from the room after interrupting a news conference with Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem at the Wilshire Federal Building in Los Angeles on June 12..

(Luke Johnson / Los Angeles Times)

“It was the cherry on top of them actually throwing Padilla to the ground,” Nericcio added, referring to federal agents’ handcuffing of Padilla, which was captured on video.

Padilla went on MSNBC over the weekend to call Vance’s jab “petty and unserious,” adding, “He knows my name,” since the two of them served in the Senate together, and the vice president presides over the Senate.

He was too polite. When I saw the video of Vance’s “José” crack — a flash of a grin on his face just after he uttered it, his eyes flitting around as if expecting a laugh — my blood boiled just as much as after watching footage of migra agents roughing up undocumented immigrants.

I thought of all my friends who had their name butchered as children and even adults — “Joe-zay,” “Josie” or pronounced correctly but in an exaggerated tone.

I thought of my grandfathers, José Miranda and José Arellano, who came from isolated Mexican mountain towns that are brothers from another madre to Vance’s ancestral home in Appalachia, but who never let hard times sour their outlook — unlike the vice president’s clan. I thought of my Tía Maria’s oldest son, José Fernandez, whom everyone calls “Chepe.” We cousins all love him for his gregarious attitude, delicious carne asada and a career in cement that saw Chepe advance from laborer to supervisor.

None of the Josés in my family were jokes. Neither were the Josés I admire — Cuban revolutionary José Martí, Mexican singer-songwriter José Alfredo Jiménez, farmworker-turned-astronaut José M. Hernández. Nor was Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus — José is what we call him in Spanish. Vance, a professed Catholic, should know better than to use such a holy name as a joke.

That Vance reduced Padilla’s attempted questioning of Noem to a charade shows what a clown he is. Spitting out “José” like a villain in a low-budget western reveals his rank racism. And if you think I’m exaggerating, consider how Vance’s press secretary, Taylor Van Kirk, responded when Politico asked her to elaborate on his José insult: She said her boss “must have mixed up two people who have broken the law.”

Not only did Alex Padilla not break any laws, but Van Kirk’s vague allusion to a second supposed criminal confirmed the point I made a few weeks ago: to Trump and his crew, all Mexicans are interchangeable, not to be trusted and most likely felonious.

So to repeat: Vance misnames Alex Padilla during a press conference. His press flak insinuates it’s because the senator’s name sounds like that of a nameless criminal.

The common dehumanizing thread is “José.”

I called up two Josés I know to see how they were feeling after Vance’s verbal ballet of bigotry.

José R. Ralat represents the sixth generation of men in his family with the same name. Yet that pedigree meant nothing when he moved to the mainland from his native Puerto Rico.

The taunts of “No way, José!” followed Ralat throughout his childhood in North Carolina — the same line his father had heard from gringos in 1960s New York. An elementary school teacher didn’t even bother to try to pronounce “José,” instead calling Ralat “Whatever your name is.” A middle school instructor called all the Latino students “José.”

“At first I was really confused,” said Ralat, who’s the taco editor for Texas Monthly. “It’s the most boring-ass name in Spanish, where I came from. Make fun of that? But it just kept happening. It was weird. It was awful. It was almost as awful as being called ‘spic.’”

That’s why when Ralat heard Vance’s José dig, “I rolled my eyes and thought, ‘Here we go again.’ It’s such a childish, boring insult. Shakespeare he is not.”

José M. Alamillo is chair of Chicana/o Studies at Cal State Channel Islands. Named after his father, he has traced the Josés in his family tree all the way back to 1759. But growing up in Ventura as a Mexican immigrant, the 55-year-old said the mockery he endured over his first name was so pervasive that he went by Joe through high school.

Alamillo only started calling himself José again at UC Santa Barbara, after a professor on the first day of class pronounced it like it was any other name.

“The move was small,” he said, “but it gave my name back some dignity.”

When Alamillo saw the clip of Vance misnaming Padilla, he immediately thought of Ricardo “Pancho” Gonzalez. The L.A.-born Mexican American tennis player dominated the game during the 1950s, yet was labeled “Pancho” by opponents and the media — a nickname he eventually adopted but always hated.

“What Vance did was really messed up,” Alamillo said. “I can see a staff member doing that, but not the vice president of the United States.”

The profe quickly corrected himself. “Actually, I’m sure he did it to appease to his followers and especially Trump — ‘Yeah, you got him! Way to show up Padilla!’”

Alamillo laughed bitterly. “To them, we’re all just a bunch of Josés.”

The U.S. population includes an estimated 65.2 million Latinos, nearly a quarter of whom call California home. For over a century, Latinos were absent from the state’s two U.S. Senate seats. In 2022, Sen. Alex Padilla reversed the willful neglect of Latino senatorial candidates by both major political parties, winning 61.1% of the vote, more than any other statewide candidate, including Gov. Gavin Newsom.

On Thursday, in the midst of the Trump administration’s largest immigration raids to date, Padilla was forcibly removed at a Department of Homeland Security press conference in his hometown, Los Angeles. Manhandled, for daring to exercise his congressional responsibilities. Pushed out of a job-related meeting for asking a question. For many Latinos, the abhorrent treatment of Padilla by the Trump administration is emblematic of a shared grievance: being pushed out of conversations about our lives, our families and our futures.

The Trump administration’s immigration raids are squarely a Latino issue. Not because immigration is a Latino issue — all issues are Latino issues — but because Trump’s immigration enforcement is and has always been racially motivated. From Trump’s campaign announcement in 2015, calling Mexicans rapists and criminals, to his fixation with building a wall across our southern border and having Mexico pay for it, to his 2024 campaign focused on falsehoods about immigrants and criminality, the central narrative has been “us” versus “them.”

Immigration is a concern in every city and state, yet Trump’s immigration enforcement seems to be exclusively focused on Latino communities. In Los Angeles, Trump’s raids are explicitly targeting Latino-majority neighborhoods and cities including Westlake, Paramount and Compton, going beyond data-informed enforcement actions to the racial profiling of Latinos near schools, tending to errands like getting a car washed or sitting in a church parking lot.

Over the last week, Los Angeles has been ground zero for Trump’s federal overreach. Padilla’s silencing and removal follow refusals to admit four U.S. House representatives at the Los Angeles federal detention center on Saturday and three representatives to the Immigration and Customs Enforcement processing center in Adelanto on Sunday.

While immigration raids raise serious policy and human rights concerns, the unequal treatment of Latino congressional leaders by the Trump administration represents a different kind of hazard: a test for control of our democratic republic.

America has three co-equal branches: legislative, executive, judiciary. This system of separation of powers and checks and balances is designed to prevent tyranny and ensure a balanced government. For the last five months, the Trump administration has upended our system of governance.

The Trump administration bypassed Congress’ budgetary actions by eliminating foreign aid. Trump officials willfully ignored judicial orders. They’ve blocked sitting members of the House and Senate from entering federal buildings, obstructed them from conducting oversight and undermined their inquiries.

Like Trump’s immigration enforcement actions, the administration’s overreach is racially motivated. Latinos have long expressed that no one is listening to their needs — that they are left out of the conversation and never at the table where decisions are being made. Research has made clear that Latinos bear the brunt of underrepresentation across important societal institutions such as academia, private enterprise, philanthropy and news media. The list goes on.

Unfortunately, when Latinos achieve positions that ought to wield power — such as Padilla’s ascent to the Senate — the positions themselves tend to be diminished, so that — again, like Padilla being silenced at a press conference — the Latinos who gain prominence are denied the power that non-Latinos enjoy in parallel positions. This week’s events provide a new chapter in the diminishment of Latino agency and dignity; members of Congress were denied entry to do their jobs, and in the case of Padilla, forcibly removed and detained.

One thing is consistent: the repeated dehumanization of Latinos and their needs. Latinos are not a monolith, but the Trump administration is surely treating us as such. His administration has rolled out a carte blanche attack on Latinos. From Latino community members being stalked and apprehended in Home Depot parking lots, at places of worship or their children’s school graduations, to targeted attacks on the sustainability and operations of Latino-led nonprofit organizations, to the physical assault of a U.S. senator. The subjugation of Latinos is currently on full display in Los Angeles, a region that fuels the world’s fourth-largest economy (California) and is the global epicenter of media and entertainment. The absence of meaningful Latino participation in shaping narratives, trends and the public imagination is cause for concern.

Any conversation on the fragility of American democracy, the resurgence of fascism and authoritarianism and the future of the Constitution is, inherently, a discourse about Latinos — and about all Americans. So long as Latinos remain silenced, ostracized and relegated to the periphery in conversations about the future of this nation, that future remains bleak. The test of how America responds in real time to the wholesale attack on its second-largest demographic group is now a shared assignment. And the group’s leader is Padilla.

Sonja Diaz is a civil rights attorney and co-founder of the Latina Futures 2050 Lab and UCLA Latino Policy & Politics Institute.

When U.S. Sen. Alex Padilla was forcibly removed from a news conference held by Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, it was almost as if Donald Trump’s most well-worn talking point came to life:

A bad hombre tried to go after a white American.

All Padilla did was identify himself and try to question Noem about the immigration raids across Southern California that have led to protests and terror. Instead, federal agents pushed the senator into a hallway, forced him to the ground and handcuffed him before he was released. He and Noem talked privately afterward, yet she claimed to reporters that Padilla “lung[ed]” at her despite them being far apart and video showing no evidence to back up her laughable assertion.

(The claim was in keeping with Noem’s pronouncements this week. On Tuesday, she accused Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum of encouraging violent protests in L.A. when the president actually called for calm.)

The manhandling of Padilla on Thursday and his subsequent depiction by conservatives as a modern-day Pancho Villa isn’t surprising one bit. Trashing people of Mexican heritage has been one of Trump’s most successful electoral planks — don’t forget that he kicked off his 2016 presidential campaigns by proclaiming Mexican immigrants to be “rapists” and drug smugglers — because he knows it works. You could be a newcomer from Jalisco, you could be someone whose ancestors put down roots before the Mayflower, it doesn’t matter: For centuries, the default stance in this country is to look at anyone with family ties to our neighbor to the south with skepticism, if not outright hate.

It was the driving force behind the Mexican-American War and subsequent robbing of land from the Mexicans who decided to stay in the conquered territory. It was the basis for the legal segregation of Mexicans across the American Southwest in the first half of the 20th century and continues to fuel stereotypes of oversexed women and criminal men that still live on mainstream and social media.

These anti-Mexican sentiments are why California voters passed a slew of xenophobic local and state measures in the 1980s and 1990s when the state’s demographics began to dramatically change. Conservative politicians and pundits alike claimed Mexico was trying to reclaim the American Southwest and called the conspiracy the “Reconquista,” after the centuries-long push by Spaniards to take back the Iberian Peninsula from the Moors during the Middle Ages.

A man holds a Mexican flag at the Metropolitan Detention Center in Los Angeles on June 8, 2025.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

The echoes of that era continue to reverberate in MAGAland. It’s why Trump went on social media to describe L.A. as a city besieged by a “Migrant Invasion” when people began to rally against all the immigration raids that kicked off last week and led to his draconian deployment of the National Guard and Marines to L.A. as if we were Fallouja in the Iraq war. It’s what led the White House’s Instagram account Wednesday to share the image of a stern-looking Uncle Sam putting up a poster stating “Help your country … and yourself” above the slogan “Report All Foreign Invaders” and a telephone number for Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

It’s what led U.S. Atty. Bill Essayli to post a photo on his official social media account of SEIU California President David Huerta roughed up and in handcuffs after he was arrested for allegedly blocking the path of ICE agents trying to serve a search warrant on a factory in the Garment District. It’s why Texas Gov. Greg Abbott called in the National Guard before planned protests in San Antonio, one of the cradles of Latino political power in the United States and the home of the Alamo. It’s why there are reports that Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth wants to rename a naval ship honoring Chicano legend Cesar Chavez and has announced that the only U.S. military base named after a Latino, Ft. Cavazos in Texas, will drop its name.

And it’s what’s driving all the rabid responses to activists waving the Mexican flag. Vice President JD Vance described protesters as “insurrectionists carrying foreign flags” on social media. White House Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller — Trump’s longtime anti-immigrant Iago — described L.A. as “occupied territory.” The president slimed protesters as “animals” and “foreign enemies.” In an address to Army soldiers prescreened for looks and loyalty at Ft. Bragg in North Carolina this week, he vowed, “The only flag that will wave triumphant over the city of Los Angeles is the American flag.”

The undue obsession with a piece of red, green and white cloth betrays this deep-rooted fear by Americans that we Mexicans are fundamentally invaders.

And to some, that idea sure seems to be true. Latinos are now the largest minority group in the U.S., a plurality in California and nearly a majority in L.A. and L.A. County — and Mexicans make up the largest segment of all those populations by far.

The truth of this demographic Reconquista, as I’ve been writing for a quarter of a century, is far more mundane.

Lupe Padilla, mother of then-Los Angeles City Councilman and current U.S. Sen. Alex Padilla, wipes a tear away as they watch a video presentation of his career during his last City Council meeting in 2006.

(Gary Friedman / Los Angeles Times)

The so-called invading force of my generation assimilated to the point where our kids are named Brandon and Ashley in all sorts of spellings. The young adults and teenagers on the street wrapping themselves in the Mexican flag right now are chanting against ICE in English and blasting “They Not Like Us.” More than a few of the National Guard troops, police officers and Homeland Security officers those young Latino activists were heckling have Latino surnames on their uniforms, when they show any identification at all. Hell, enough Mexican Americans voted for Trump that they arguably swung the election to him.

Mexicans assimilate into the United States, a fact too many Americans will never believe no matter how many American flags we may wave. The best personification of this reality is Sen. Padilla.

This son of Mexican immigrants grew up in working class Pacoima and went to MIT before returning home to help found a political machine that gave a voice to Latinos in the San Fernando Valley that they never had. He was the first Latino president of the L.A. City Council, served in both chambers of the state Legislature and also as California’s secretary of state before becoming California’s first Latino U.S. senator.

When I met Padilla for lunch last year at my wife’s store in Santa Ana — in Calle Cuatro, the city’s historic Latino district, where now we can see the National Guard down the street blocking off a part of it — he struck me as the goody- two-shoes those who have worked with him have always portrayed him to be. In fact, that was always a progressive critique of him: He was too nice to properly stand up to the Trump administration.

That’s what makes Padilla’s ejection especially outrageous. He’s California’s senior California U.S. senator, someone with enough of a security clearance to be was in the same federal building where Noem was holding her press conference because he had a previous meeting with US Northern Command’s General Gregory Guillot. Tall, brown and deep-voiced, Padilla is immediately recognizable on Capitol Hill as one of a handful of Latino U.S. senators. He fought Noem’s nomination to became Homeland Security chief, so it makes no sense that she didn’t immediately recognize him.

Then again, Noem probably thought Padilla was just another Mexican.

Not anymore. If anything, conservatives should be more afraid of Mexicans now than ever. Because if a nice Mexican such as Alex Padilla could be fed up with hate against us enough to get tossed around by the feds in the name of preserving democracy, anyone can.

May we all be bad hombres now.

California Sen. Alex Padilla was handcuffed by federal agents Thursday after he interrupted a press conference held by Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem in Los Angeles.

About five minutes into a press conference at the Westwood federal building, Noem told the media that the Trump administration planned to “liberate the city from the socialists and the burdensome leadership that the governor and the mayor have placed on this country.”

Padilla, who was standing near a wall on one side of the room, then tried to interrupt Noem to ask a question, video footage shows. Cameras turned toward him as two Secret Service agents tried to push him backward, one saying: “Sir, sir, hands up.”

“I’m Senator Alex Padilla,” he said, as one agent grabbed his jacket and shoved him backward on the chest and arm. “I have questions for the secretary, because the fact of the matter is that half a dozen violent criminals that you’re rotating on your — on your …”

“Hands off!” Padilla said, as three agents pushed him into a separate room.

Padilla, a Democrat who was raised by Mexican immigrants in the northeast San Fernando Valley, got into politics in the 1990s over his dismay with anti-immigrant sentiment, and this week has encouraged Los Angeles residents to protest the immigration sweeps.

“If this is how this administration responds to a senator with a question,” Padilla said later, his eyes welling with tears, “if this is how the Department of Homeland Security responds to a senator with a question, I can only imagine what they’re doing to cooks, to day laborers out in the Los Angeles community and throughout California and throughout the country.”

Laura Eimiller, a spokesperson for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, said Padilla was escorted out of the room by the Secret Service and FBI police officers who act as building security, but was not arrested. Deputy FBI Director Dan Bongino said that Padilla had not been wearing a security pin and “physically resisted law enforcement when confronted.”

Noem continued without mentioning the disruption, telling reporters that immigration agents have been “doxxed from doing their duty, how they have been targeted and their families have been put in jeopardy.”

The video of Padilla’s “freakout,” said White House Communications Director Steven Cheung in a post on X, “shows the public what a complete lunatic Padilla is by rushing towards Secretary Noem and disturbing the informative press conference.” Videos from the room showed Padilla interrupting Noem, but did not show him rushing toward her.

After being escorted to the separate room and led a few doors down, Padilla raised his hands in front of his chest as the agents marched him past an office cubicle and down a hallway, a video taken by a member of Padilla’s staff and shared with The Times showed.

The agents forced Padilla to his knees and then to his chest, his face against the carpet. One agent said, “On the ground, on the ground, hands behind your back.”

The officers bent one of Padilla’s arms behind his back and attached a handcuff, then said, “Other hand, sir? Other hand.”

One federal agent turned to the member of Padilla’s staff who was filming and said, “There’s no recording allowed out here, per FBI rights.”

Noem told reporters she met with Padilla privately for about 15 minutes after the incident, then said, “I wish that he would have reached out and identified himself and let us know who he was and that he wanted to talk.”

His approach, she said, “was something that I don’t think was appropriate at all, but the conversation was great, and we’re going to continue to communicate.”

At a makeshift podium outside the federal building, Padilla said he was attending a briefing with Gen. Gregory Guillot, commander of the U.S. Northern Command, when he learned of the press conference.

He said he and fellow Democrats have received “little to no information” from the administration, so he attended the press conference “to hear what she had to say, to see if I can learn any new additional information.”

“At one point I had a question, and so I began to ask a question,” Padilla said. “I was almost immediately forcibly removed from the room. I was forced to the ground, and I was handcuffed. I was not arrested. I was not detained.”

Padilla’s run-in with federal agents was decried by Democrats in California, including Gov. Gavin Newsom, who called the detainment “outrageous, dictatorial and shameful.”

“Trump and his shock troops are out of control,” Newsom said. “This must end now.”

At a press conference downtown Thursday afternoon, Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass said federal agents had “shoved and cuffed a sitting U.S. senator,” as people behind her booed.

“How could you say that you did not know who he was?” Bass said. “We see the video tape, we see him saying who he was — but how do you not recognize one of two senators in our state? And he is not just any senator. He is the first Latino citizen senator to ever represent our state.”

Sen. Adam Schiff, the other Democrat representing California in the Senate, blasted the behavior of federal agents as “disgraceful and disrespectful,” saying it “demands our condemnation.”

Padilla “represents the best of the Senate,” Schiff said on X. “He will not be silenced or intimidated. His questions will be answered. I’m with Alex.”

Some Republicans in California condemned Padilla’s behavior, including John Dennis, the chairman of the California Republican County Chairmen’s Association, who said on X that “Padilla represents the emotional, violent, self-indulgent California Democrats leadership.”

“Do you want your senator behaving this way?” Dennis asked.

And Republican state Assemblymember Joe Patterson of Rocklin wrote, “If I busted into a press conference with the Governor or Sen. Padilla, I promise you, the same exact thing would happen to me.” He later added: “The whole entire incident really sucks. I didn’t like to see this occur at all.”

In Washington, Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-New York) said on the Senate floor that the video of Padilla being handcuffed “sickened my stomach.”

“It’s despicable. It’s disgusting,” he said. “It is so un-American, so un-American, and we need answers. We need answers immediately.”

Times staff writers Richard Winton and Nathan Solis contributed to this report.

Times photographer Luke Johnson captured the moment when authorities tackled and handcuffed Sen. Alex Padilla on Thursday when he interrupted Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem’s news conference in Los Angeles.

Johnson’s images document many of the key moments of an encounter that has sparked controversy amid President Trump’s immigration crackdown.

Padilla attempts to speak

The senator was standing near a wall on one side of the room, then tried to interrupt Noem to ask a question.

“I’m Senator Alex Padilla,” he said, as one agent grabbed his jacket and shoved him backward on the chest and arm. “I have questions for the secretary, because the fact of the matter is that half a dozen violent criminals that you’re rotating on your — on your …”

“Hands off!” Padilla said, as three agents pushed him into a separate room.

Agent grabs him

Padilla is taken down

Videos from the press conference show agents forcing Padilla to his knees and handcuffing him.

Padilla speaks out

The senator later held a press conference to describe what happened.

“I was forced to the ground, and I was handcuffed,” Padilla said. “I was not arrested. I was not detained.”

If this is how the Trump administration treats a “senator with a question,” Padilla said, with tears in his eyes, “I can only imagine what they’re doing to cooks, to day laborers out in the Los Angeles community.”