There’s a line we used to believe no one would cross.
A line etched in moral clarity: You don’t come for the children.
But that line’s been blurred. And now, it’s being crossed—in broad daylight.
Last week, agents presumed to be from Homeland Security walked into two Los Angeles schools looking for five children. They said it was a “welfare check.” No warrant. No paperwork. Just presence and pressure. The principals refused them entry. The agents left.
But their message stayed behind—broadcast loud and clear across every school hallway, kitchen table, and neighborhood corner: We can come for your kids now.
And in Sackets Harbor, New York—ironically, the hometown of border czar Thomas Homan—ICE agents arrested a third-grade student. Let that sit with you: a third-grader. The town responded the way any decent community should. Over a thousand people took to the streets in protest. But by then, the damage had been done not just to that child, but to the very idea of safety.
And here’s the thing—this isn’t new.
Back in 1997, in Chandler, Ariz., INS agents roamed the streets for five days, stopping anyone who looked “illegal.” Kids walking home from school were questioned, separated from their parents, and taken in. That was the Chandler Roundup. And it was as ugly as it sounds.
And before that? Proposition 187. I remember sitting in a packed hall in Denver, listening to then-HUD Secretary Henry Cisneros respond to the California measure that would’ve required students to prove legal residency to attend public school.
Cisneros didn’t flinch. He looked out at the crowd and said:
“You can come after me—that’s politics. But when you come after my children, that’s personal.”
Well, they’re making it personal again.
They’ve moved from rhetoric to raids. From laws to intimidation. From borders to schoolyards.
They don’t need legislation. They just show up and let fear do the work. They test the gates. Shake the doors. Then they leave—and fear moves in.
Same playbook. Same targets.
Only now, the fear is aimed at a new generation.
This isn’t about immigration anymore. It’s about control.
It’s about reminding our communities that no one—not even a third-grader is safe.
When agents knock on school doors without cause, that’s not law enforcement. That’s psychological warfare.
And when a child is dragged out of a classroom in the hometown of the man who once ran ICE, the symbolism isn’t subtle. It’s intentional.
So I’ll say what needs to be said—loud and clear:
You do not come for the children.
Not in my country.
Not in my community.
Not without a fight.