south l.a.

Giovanni Garcia pulled up to a dusty intersection in South Gate and scoped the scene. It was quiet, just folks walking home from work, but Garcia was among several people drawn there in hopes of bearing witness to one of the federal raids that have unfolded across Los Angeles County in recent days.

Just minutes before, several Instagram accounts had posted alerts warning that white pickup trucks with green U.S. Customs and Border Protection markings had been seen near the intersection.

With friends loaded into his white Grand Cherokee and a large Mexican flag flying out of the sunroof, this was the sixth day in a row that Garcia, 28, had spent up to 10 hours following such alerts through South L.A.’s immigrant-heavy neighborhoods.

Fueled by sodas and snacks he picked up at a Northgate Market, Garcia’s goal, he said, was to catch Immigration and Customs Enforcement or other immigration agents in the act of detaining people on the street.

So far, it had been a fruitless chase.

“I’ve been doing this for six days. It sucks because I get these alerts and go, but I never make it in time,” said Garcia, a Mexican American U.S. citizen who lives in South Central.

Monitoring ICE activity has become a grim pastime for some Angelenos. Apps dedicated to the purpose have popped up, which combine with Citizen, Nextdoor, X and other platforms to create a firehose of unverified, user-generated information about federal movements and operations.

Trying to keep up in real time can prove equally exhausting and frustrating. The reports sometimes turn out to be false, and immigration enforcers seem to strike and depart with swift precision, leaving the public little opportunity to respond.

It’s impossible to determine how many people are engaged in this Sisyphean chase. But they have become a frequent sight in recent days, as anger has grown in response to viral videos of swift and violent apprehensions. A Times reporter and photographer crisscrossed the southern half of L.A. County, encountering Garcia and other ICE chasers in hot pursuit of federal agents who constantly seemed one step ahead.

Giovanni Garcia, 28, drives through South Gate with a Mexican flag. He spent six days trying to witness an ICE raid with little luck.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

A new notification popped up on Garcia’s Instagram feed Thursday afternoon: ICE agents had been spotted in a nondescript residential area of South Gate, a city of about 90,000 people, of which more than 40% are foreign-born, according to the U.S. census. So Garcia put his SUV in gear and sped over.

He and his crew were late again. They arrived on a corner about 15 minutes after witnesses say immigration agents with green bulletproof vests and gaiters over their faces had jumped out of vehicles, handcuffed and taken away a man who had sold flowers in front of a ranch-style house there for years.

“I keep doing this because they’re messing with my people,” Garcia said. “It’s no longer about immigration. Trump’s no longer targeting criminals; he’s targeting Hispanics.”

It was one of many such raids in South L.A. in recent days at homes, parks and businesses ranging from a car wash to grocery stores.

The people whisked away in incidents captured in photos and videos that bystanders shared online ran the gamut: One man plucked out of a diverse crowd for no discernible reason while walking in South Gate Park. Another handcuffed on the curb outside a Ross clothing store in Bell Gardens. Two men in Rosemead snatched from the parking lot of a bakery.

Workers at a Fashion Nova clothing warehouse in Vernon told The Times that ICE trucks had been spotted in the area and that they had heard agents planned to confront employees during a shift change.

From senior citizens to children, nobody was safe from the federal enforcement effort.

Jasmyn Vasillio, 35, said she first became concerned when she saw on social media that ICE agents had raided a car wash in South Gate, then an hour later saw a post about the flower seller’s apprehension.

“I knew that flower guy is always there and I live nearby so I drove right over,” she said as she stood on the corner where he had been standing 20 minutes earlier. “I think they’re just picking people up and leaving.”

“I’m just another frustrated person in L.A. that wants to see an end to this. Not all of us are criminals,” said Manolo, who runs a candle-making business in Vernon.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

A 20-year-old Latino man who declined to provide his name out of fear of reprisal said that he has been doing everything he can to spread awareness of what immigration enforcement agents are doing in his South Gate neighborhood and across South L.A.

“I’m a U.S. citizen, so I’m good. I’m worried about other people. It’s been heartbreaking,” he said as he streamed live from a street in South Gate where CBP agents had been spotted minutes before, according to posts he had seen on Instagram.

“They’re here to work and being torn apart from their families,” he said. “It’s sad. They came here for the American dream and this is what happens.”

Teenagers Emmanuel Segura and Jessy Villa said they have spent hours over the past week scrolling through social media and despairing at the seemingly endless stream of videos of people being aggressively detained. They felt helpless in the face of the crackdown, so they planned a protest in the heart of their own community.

On Thursday, they took to Atlantic Avenue and Firestone Boulevard in South Gate, where Villa waved a flag pole with both American and Mexican flags affixed to it. They were joined by more than 30 other protesters who chanted slogans and hoisted anti-ICE posters. Drivers honked in support as they passed by.

Jessy Villa, 14, protests the recent ICE raids in the Southland at Atlantic Avenue and Firestone Boulevard in South Gate.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

“It’s kind of scary. They’re taking anyone at this point. I just saw that ICE went to a car wash and took two people. And those are hard-working people — they are not criminals,” Segura, a 15-year-old South Gate resident, said. “So we planned the protest to go against ICE, Trump and his administration.”

Villa, 14, lives in nearby Lynwood, where he says everyone he knows is terrified they or someone they care about will be the next person swept up in an ICE raid.

“The streets are empty. Nobody wants to come outside. And kids don’t want to go to school, especially kids who migrated here,” Villa said. “They’re scared going to school in the morning, and worried they’ll come home and find out their parents were deported.”

Five miles away in Vernon, Manolo stood Thursday morning on the loading dock of the candle-making business he owns as employees loaded boxes of candles into the back of a black SUV. He said he has been following news and rumors of the raids online, and that the fear generated by them and the protests in response have been devastating for his company and other small businesses.

“Everybody’s worried about it,” Manolo said, recounting how he had heard that earlier that day ICE had raided a business two doors over from his. His company received zero calls for orders Thursday morning, down from the 50 to 60 it typically receives per day. If the immigration raids and protests haven’t wound down by the end of the month, he said he might have to shut down his business.

Family members of STG Logistics employees wait to hear word of their relatives’ whereabouts after an ICE raid at the company’s facility in Compton.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

“This whole snatching people on the street — they have you on the floor in handcuffs, traumatize you, why? It makes me nervous, of course,” said Manolo, a U.S. citizen who moved to the U.S. from Guatemala 33 years ago and declined to give his last name out of fear he and his company could be targeted by law enforcement.

“And it’s not just that, it’s affecting businesses, it’s affecting people’s lives. It affects the economy, law enforcement. It affects your daily routine. When’s it going to end?”

Alleging widespread and egregious violations of housing and tenant laws, Atty. Gen. Rob Bonta sued Southern California real estate tycoon Mike Nijjar in Los Angeles County Superior Court on Thursday.

In the lawsuit, Bonta accused Nijjar, family members and their companies of subjecting tenants to vermin infestations and overflowing sewage, overcharging them and violating anti-discrimination laws.

The suit says that Nijjar is one of California’s largest landlords, operating multibillion dollars in holdings. Nijjar family companies, commonly known as PAMA Management, own 22,000 rental units, primarily in low-income neighborhoods in Southern California.

The suit follows a more than two-year California Department of Justice investigation into Nijjar’s holdings, Bonta said.

“PAMA and the companies owned by Mike Nijjar and his family are notorious for their rampant, slum-like conditions — some so bad that residents have suffered tragic results,” Bonta said in a statement. “Our investigation into Nijjar’s properties revealed PAMA exploited vulnerable families, refusing to invest the resources needed to eradicate pest infestations, fix outdated roofs and install functioning plumbing systems, all while deceiving tenants about their rights to sue their landlord and demand repairs.”

Bonta is seeking penalties against Nijjar and his family business entities, restitution for tenants, disgorgement of ill-gotten gains and injunctive relief barring Nijjar and PAMA from continuing unlawful business practices.

A representative for Nijjar said he forcefully rejects the claims in the lawsuit.

“The allegations in the complaint are false and misleading, and its claims are legally erroneous,” Nijjar attorney Stephen Larson said in a statement. “We look forward to demonstrating in court that Mr. Nijjar and his companies are not only compliant with the law, but they provide an extraordinary service to housing those disadvantaged and underserved by California’s public and private housing markets.”

Nijjar’s real estate empire has long been on authorities’ radar.

In 2020, LAist detailed wide-ranging dangerous conditions at Nijjar’s properties dating back years, including a fire at a PAMA-owned mobile home in Kern County that resulted in the death of an infant. The mobile home was not permitted for human occupancy, according to the report and Bonta’s lawsuit. Two years later, The Times wrote a series of stories about Chesapeake Apartments, a sprawling 425-unit apartment complex in South L.A., where Nijjar’s tenants complained of sewage discharges, regular mold and vermin infestations and shoddy repairs. Chesapeake had the most public health violations of any residential property in L.A. County over the previous five years, according to a Times analysis at the time.

Prior attempts at accountability for Nijjar and his companies have been spotty and ineffective. After the 2016 mobile home fire that killed the infant in Kern County, the California Department of Real Estate revoked the licenses associated with Nijjar’s company at the time. In response, Nijjar and family members reorganized their business structure, the suit said.

The L.A. city attorney’s office resolved a nuisance abatement complaint against PAMA at Chesapeake in 2018, only for the widespread habitability problems to emerge. A similar case filed by the city attorney’s office against a PAMA property in Hollywood remains in litigation more than three years after it was filed. In the meantime, Nijjar’s companies have settled multiple habitability lawsuits filed by residents.

Bonta said that PAMA has taken advantage of lax and piecemeal accountability efforts and its low-income tenants’ vulnerability. Most residents, he said, have low or fixed incomes with few alternatives other than to endure the shoddy conditions in their rentals.

The lawsuit alleges that the habitability problems at PAMA properties are “ongoing business practices” — the result of decisions to make cheap repairs rather than necessary investments in maintenance, the use of unskilled handymen, lack of staff training and failure to track tenant requests.

“Nijjar and his associates have treated lawsuit after lawsuit and code violation after code violation as the cost of doing business and have been allowed to operate and collect hundreds of millions of dollars each year from families who sleep, shower, and feed their children in unhealthy and deplorable conditions,” Bonta said. “Enough is enough.”

Besides tenants’ living conditions, the suit alleges Nijjar and PAMA have induced residents into deceptive leases, discriminated against tenants on public assistance programs and issued unlawful rent increases.

The suit contends PAMA’s leases attempt to invalidate rights guaranteed under law, including the opportunity to sue and make repairs the landlord neglected and deduct these costs from the rent. The company has told Section 8 voucher holders that there are no units available when others are being rented to applicants without vouchers, the complaint said.

The case alleges that PAMA has violated California’s rent cap law on more than 2,000 occasions. The law limits rent increases to 5% plus inflation annually at most apartments. PAMA, the suit says, shifted mandatory shared utility costs, which used to be paid by the landlord, onto tenants’ bills in an attempt to evade the cap. The combination of the new utility costs and rent hikes resulted in total increases of up to 20%, more than double the allowable amount, according to the suit.

In 2022, Kyra Davis Lurie heard a story on KCRW’s “Curbed Los Angeles” about the residents of South L.A.’s West Adams Heights, nicknamed Sugar Hill after a community of wealthy Black Harlemites. Learning about the sumptuous soirees Academy Award-winning actor Hattie McDaniel hosted in her Sugar Hill mansion, Lurie realized there was a hidden Black history waiting for her to unearth. But how she created the enthralling historical novel “The Great Mann” is a story that owes as much to Lurie’s ability to reinvent herself as it does to F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby,” the iconic 20th century critique of the American dream, which provided a touchstone for the novel.

Lurie, 52, grew up in Santa Cruz, far from the neighborhood where McDaniel, Louise Beavers, Ethel Waters and other striving Black actors and business pioneers depicted in “The Great Mann” lived. While she visited family regularly in L.A., Lurie stayed up north, where she penned the light-hearted 2005 book “Sex, Murder and a Double Latte.” She quickly followed it with two more mysteries. Encouraged by her success, Lurie struck out for L.A. to pursue her dream of getting into a TV writers room. The 2007 writers’ strike deferred that goal, so Lurie pivoted to write three erotic novels which, she reveals, were “critiques of capitalism wrapped in a romance novel.”

By the time she heard about Sugar Hill and its famous inhabitants, Lurie was ready to take on a more nuanced challenge. But many literary agents weren’t receptive to her change of genre. “It was as if Marlon James had gone from writing comic books to ‘A [Brief] History of Seven Killings,’” she says, name-checking the famous Jamaican writer and his Man Booker Prize-winning novel. But as Lurie continued researching the neighborhood and its history, she knew she had to tell its story, even if using “The Great Gatsby” as her North Star proved problematic.

“I’m a huge Fitzgerald fan,” Lurie says, “even though there was a line in that book that always bothered me.” She’s referring to Nick Carraway’s reference to “two bucks and a girl” upon seeing three wealthy Black people passing by in a white-chauffeured limousine. “While it was probably used to get a laugh in 1925, it was demeaning,” Lurie says of the scene. “In the wake of the Red Summer of 1919 [when a record number of race riots and lynchings of Black Americans occurred in the U.S.] and the destruction of Black Wall Street in the 1921 Tulsa Race Riot, Fitzgerald’s language says a lot about America’s cultural climate at the time.”

Was it subversive to use Fitzerald’s most famous novel to frame the story of a vibrant Black enclave whose prosperity rivaled that of Jay Gatsby and his ilk? Absolutely, Lurie says, adding, “Through a Black reimagining of ‘The Great Gatsby,’ I tried to marry a family’s story with a little-known part of L.A. history.”

The family story is told through the lens of Charlie Trammell III, a World War II veteran emotionally scarred by the violence he witnessed on the battlefield and at home in Jim Crow Virginia. Charlie arrives in L.A. looking for a fresh start and to reconnect with his cousin Margie, with whom he shares pivotal childhood experiences. But Margie, who now goes by the more exotic Marguerite, has shaken off the past and married Terrance Lewis, a vice president at Golden State Mutual Life Insurance Co. The Lewises live with their son in Sugar Hill, along with McDaniel, Beavers and Norman O. Houston, the real-life co-founder and president of Golden State Mutual.

Soon Charlie is swept into the world of L.A.’s wealthy Black elite, a mix of real Angelenos like John and Vada Somerville, pioneering Black dentists and founders of Central Avenue’s famed Dunbar Hotel; singers-actors Waters and Lena Horne; and fictional characters including James Mann, the mysterious Black businessman recently arrived in Sugar Hill who hosts lavish parties unlike anything Charlie’s ever seen: “The air is flavored with flowery perfumes and earthy cigars. All around me diamonds glitter from brown earlobes, gold watches flash against brown wrists. The only things white are the walls.”

Mann befriends Charlie, treating the recently discharged veteran to his first hand-tailored suit and fine wine, but soon embroils him in his quest to reunite with Marguerite, the love of his life since the two met some 10 years before when they both lived in the South.

“Through a Black reimagining of ‘The Great Gatsby,’ I tried to marry a family’s story with a little-known part of L.A. history,” Kyra Davis Lurie said.

(Yvette Roman Photography)

Like Fitzgerald’s classic juxtaposition of West Egg and East Egg in “Gatsby,” “The Great Mann” is about new money versus old — interlopers like Mann and the entertainers versus businesspeople like Houston and the Somervilles. But Lurie “tried not to invent flaws” in her historical figures by doing her homework, sourcing accounts in Black newspapers, biographies and even letters between Houston and NAACP leader Walter White to depict these frictions.

“The Great Mann” is also about people reinventing themselves amid the realities and contradictions of the time. Like Black actors who played maids but employed Black “help” in real life. Or the controversy over the stereotypically demeaning roles Black actors depicted. Chief among them was Delilah Johnson, the subservient Black maid portrayed by Beavers in the 1934 film “Imitation of Life.” It’s a debate that’s introduced in “The Great Mann” when Marguerite and Terrance tell Charlie that Beavers’ home, where he will be staying and which is much grander than theirs, is paid for “with Black shame.” Also addressed in the novel are touchier subjects like White’s advocacy for the lighter-skinned Horne to get roles over her darker-skinned colleagues like McDaniel or Beavers.

But the engine that fires up the plot of “The Great Mann,” and which sets it apart from “Gatsby,” is the battle Black creatives and business owners faced to hold onto their properties. A clause placed in thousands of L.A. property deeds in 1902 restricted housing covenants at the time West Adams Heights and many other L.A. County communities were developed, prohibiting homes from being sold to anyone “other than the white or Caucasian race.” But some white sellers sold property to Black buyers anyway, who then had to fight white groups — like the West Adams Heights Improvement Assn. — to prevent eviction from their own homes.

To say how Sugar Hill’s Black residents fared in court would spoil the enjoyment of this suspenseful tale, which has put Lurie on a new path in writing historical fiction. She has another project percolating, but for now, she’s just grateful to have found her niche. “It’s been a journey,” she says of the twists and turns of her writing life, “but writing about historical Black lives feels like home to me, what I was meant to do.”

Lurie will be discussing “The Great Mann” at Vroman’s Bookstore at 7 p.m. June 10; Diesel, a Bookstore at 6:30 p.m. June 11; and Chevalier’s Books at 6:30 p.m. June 19.