DHS Secretary Kristi Noem meets with CBP officer shot in NYC, vows to double down enforcement efforts
The shooting happened in Riverside Park, near the historic Little Red Lighthouse under the George Washington Bridge in Manhattan. Police said the 42-year-old off-duty officer was sitting on the rocks with a female companion when two suspects pulled up on a moped and tried to rob them.
"They were attacked by two individuals that were set on robbing them and, thankfully, he had his service weapon with him and was able to defend himself and his friend and injured one of those individuals that was trying to do them harm," Noem said Monday. "His quick action speaks to his tenacity and his excellence in training and skill, and because of that, one of the perpetuators was wounded in this interaction and was incarcerated when he came in to get treatment."
Noem said Monday the wounded officer and his family were doing well and appreciate the outpouring of support. On Sunday, police said he was recovering and communicating through hand gestures.
"But they also recognize, when I asked them if there's anything they needed, they said go after these criminals. One of the things that he would have appreciated the most is if you doubled down on these bad guys that perpetuate crimes like these," she said, adding, "So we're lifting that family up in prayer, we're going to walk alongside them, but also we're going to double down and make sure that these criminal illegal aliens are not only off our streets but they're out of our country."
Noem also announced a second person has been taken into custody in the case. She did not provide any details on that individual, but spoke at length about the first person of interest taken into custody over the weekend. So far, no charges have been filed against either of them.
DHS says the first person, 21-year-old Miguel Francisco Mora Nunez, is a citizen of the Dominican Republic who entered the U.S. illegally through Arizona in 2023 and was released during the Biden administration.
New York City Mayor Eric Adams and Police Commissioner Jessica Tish held a news conference Sunday evening, where they said Nunez has multiple prior arrests in the city for assault and violating an order of protection, and that he was also wanted in a December robbery and January stabbing in the Bronx, as well as for a pawn shop robbery and kidnapping in Massachusetts.
"There is absolutely zero reason that someone who is scum of the Earth like this should be running loose on the streets of New York City," Noem said. "He was arrested four times in New York City and, because of the mayor's policies and sanctuary city policies, was released back to do harm to people and to individuals living in New York City."
Tisch said Nunez was taken into custody after walking into a Bronx hospital with gunshot wounds.
Noem called out Adams and the City Council for so-called sanctuary policies that she blamed for putting Nunez back on the street.
"Make no mistake, this officer is in the hospital today fighting for his life because of the policies of the mayor of this city and the City Council and the people that were in charge of keeping the public safe. They refused to do so, and now we have the situation on our hand where someone who has dedicated their lives to protecting the public is now fighting for his own," she said.
Noem also mentioned the mayors of Boston, Los Angeles and Chicago.
"I'm calling on every single mayor and sanctuary city and sanctuary governor to change their policies and to change their tactics right now. Their job is to take an oath to protect the public, to protect families that are out there every single day trying to provide for each other and trying to live the American Dream, and they want to do so safely in their own communities," she continued. "How many more lives will it take, how many more people have to be hurt and victimized before we have public safety be a number one priority in some of our largest cities?"
Adams joined the mayors of Boston, Chicago and Denver for a congressional hearing on sanctuary policies earlier this year and has repeatedly said that he must comply with city and state laws regarding cooperation on federal immigration enforcement.
"Here in New York City, our laws are clear on what we can do and what we can't do. We will always coordinate with our partners going after dangerous individuals. We're not allowed to coordinate dealing with deportation, civil deportation only. But we have used the tools of our task force and our federal partners to remove dangerous people off the streets," Adams said on Sunday.
Noem was joined by President Trump's border czar Tom Homan, who said he also met with the wounded officer Sunday night.
CBS News New York is reaching out to Adams' office for comment.
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Yahoo
16 minutes ago
- Yahoo
Fear of ICE raids is making heat intolerable for Southern California families
For the last 16 years, Isabel has worked harvesting carrots, lemons and grapes in the Coachella Valley. The undocumented mother of three — who, like others The Times spoke with, declined to give her last name out of fear for her family's safety — says the heat in recent summers has been increasingly difficult to manage. And now, with fewer workers showing up due to fears of ongoing immigration enforcement raids across California, Isabel says she and those who remain have to endure fewer breaks and more physical strain. Crews that once numbered five groups of 18 workers each are down to three groups of 18. The demands, however, haven't changed. 'You have to pack so many boxes in a day,' Isabel said in Spanish. 'If it takes you a while to get water, you'll neglect the boxes you're packing. You have to put in more effort." California's outdoor heat standard — which applies to all workers, legal or undocumented — guarantees breaks for shade and water. But the fear of falling behind often discourages workers from taking advantage, labor advocates say. And with fewer workers in the fields, employers have begun asking those who do show up to stay later into the day; some who used to be home by 1 p.m. are now in the fields during the hottest parts of the afternoon, they say. Isabel described a recent incident of a woman on her crew who appeared to be suffering from heatstroke. The supervisors did help her, "but it took them a while to call 911,' Isabel said. Sandra Reyes, a program manager at TODEC Legal Center, which works with immigrants and their families in the Inland Empire and Coachella Valley, said she has seen the same pattern unfold across California's agricultural communities. Fewer workers means greater physical strain for those who remain. And in the fields, that strain compounds rapidly under high heat. 'There are times when the body just gives out,' Reyes said. 'All of this is derived from fear.' Across Southern California, from fields to homes, parks to markets, the fear of immigration enforcement is making it harder for individuals and families to stay safe as temperatures rise. Early on June 18 in the eastern Coachella Valley, word spread among the agricultural workers that unmarked cars and SUVS — and, later on, helicopters and convoys of military vehicles — that they rightly guessed carried federal agents were converging on the fields. Anticipating a raid by Customs and Border Protection or Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the reaction was immediate. Workers — many undocumented — fled, some going into the fields, hiding beneath grapevines or climbing up date palm trees. Local organizers began to get calls from frightened workers and their families. Making matters worse was the heat. Inland Congregations United for Change, a nonprofit community organization in San Bernardino, sent out teams with water and ice. They found a number of people who had been in the blazing sun for hours, afraid to return home. Some had run out of water as temperatures soared to 113 degrees, eating grapes off the vine in an attempt to stay hydrated. 'There [were] people who are elderly, who need medication,' said J. Reyes Lopez, who works with the organization. Officials later confirmed that the multiple-agency operation led by the Drug Enforcement Administration had detained 70 to 75 undocumented individuals — part of the Trump administration's immigration enforcement effort. Read more: National Guard came to L.A. to fight unrest. Troops ended up fighting boredom In the days that followed, there were lasting impacts in the fields. 'Many [workers] have not returned to work, especially those with small children,' said TODEC's Reyes. And for those who did return, it soon became clear that they were expected to do the same amount of work, only now with fewer people. The summer of 2024 saw record-breaking heat in Southern California, and experts predict 2025 will be just as bad, if not worse. These rising temperatures — largely due to climate change — have serious effects on the health of workers and their families, said Arturo Vargas Bustamante, a UCLA professor of health policy and management. Exposure to extreme heat can trigger or exacerbate a raft of health issues such as cramps, strokes and cardiovascular and kidney disease, as well as mental health issues. It's not just agricultural workers who are affected. Car wash employees often are exposed to direct heat without regular access to water or breaks, said Flor Rodriguez, executive director of the CLEAN Carwash Worker Center. Because that industry has become a target for enforcement operations, car wash owners have had to hire staff to replace workers who have been apprehended or who no longer come in because they fear they could be next. That often means hiring younger or less experienced people who are unfamiliar with workplace conditions and protections. "The most dangerous day for you at work is your first day," said Sheheryar Kaoosji, executive director of the Warehouse Worker Resource Center. Even when workers feel physically unsafe, Kaoosji said, they may fail to speak up, due to fears about job security. When that happens, he said, 'preventative tactics like breaks, cooling down, drinking water, don't happen." Itzel — a recipient of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals policy whose family lives in Long Beach — has seen the same patterns among her co-workers in the landscaping industry. 'They wanna get to the job site early and they want to leave as early as they can,' she said. 'They're not taking their breaks. … They're not taking their lunches.' When they do, it's often for 30 minutes or less, with many choosing to eat behind closed gates rather than under the shade of a tree if it means they can remain better hidden. Overexertion under peak heat, noted Javier Hernandez, executive director of the Inland Coalition for Immigrant Justice, is becoming a survival strategy — a way to reduce exposure to ICE, even at the cost of physical health. Heat, unlike more visible workplace hazards, often goes unreported and unrecognized, especially in industries where workers are temporary, undocumented or unfamiliar with their rights. 'There's a huge undercount of the number of people who are impacted by heat,' Kaoosji said. 'Heat is really complicated.' Read more: The L.A. Times investigation into extreme heat's deadly toll And with ICE presence now reported at clinics and hospitals, access to medical care has been compromised. 'It's just another way for people — these communities — to be terrorized,' Kaoosji said. In the Inland Empire, where summer temperatures regularly climb into the triple digits, Hernandez said many families are now making impossible choices: Do they turn on the air conditioning or buy groceries? Do they stay inside and risk heat exhaustion, or go outside and risk being taken? These questions have reshaped Isabel's life. She now goes to work only a few days a week, when she feels safe enough to leave her children. That means there's not enough money to cover the bills. Isabel and her family now spend most of the day confined to a single room in their mobile home, the only one with air conditioning. Their electricity bill has rocketed from $80 to $250 a month. So far, her family has been able to make partial payments to the utility, but she fears what will happen if their electricity gets cut off, as has happened to some of her neighbors. Before the raids, Isabel's family would cool off at a nearby stream, go to air-conditioned shops or grab a raspado, or shaved ice. But in the face of heightened enforcement, these sorts of routines have largely been abandoned. 'Those are very simple things,' Hernandez said, 'but they are very meaningful to families.' Fear also makes it difficult to spend time at public cooling centers, libraries or other public buildings that in theory could offer an escape from the heat. Isabel's youngest child isn't used to staying quiet for long periods, and she worries they'll draw attention in unfamiliar public spaces. 'I do my best to keep them cool,' Isabel said, explaining that she now resorts to bathing her children regularly as one cooling strategy. Itzel's father, who is undocumented, hasn't left his apartment in over a month out of fear of immigration enforcement actions. He used to make up to $6,000 a month as a trucker — now, he can't afford to turn on his air conditioning. Where once there were weekend walks, family barbecues, trips to the park or the beach to cool down, now there is isolation. 'We're basically in a cell," Itzel said. "This is worse than COVID. At least with COVID, we could walk around the block.' The same has been true for Mirtha, a naturalized citizen who lives in Maywood with her husband, whose immigration status is uncertain, and their five U.S.-born children. In previous summers, her family — which includes four special needs children — relied on public spaces, such as parks, splash pads, shopping centers and community centers to cool down. Now her family spends most of the time isolated and indoors. Even critical errands such as picking up medications or groceries have shifted to nighttime hours for safety reasons. Meanwhile, her husband, a cook, stopped working altogether in early June due to fear of deportation. Even turning on their one small air conditioner has become a financial decision. Constant fear, confinement and oppressive heat has worsened her children's mental and physical well-being, she said. Staying indoors has also led to serious health challenges for Mirtha herself, who suffers from high blood pressure and other medical conditions. On a particularly hot day on June 21, Mirtha got so sick she ended up in the hospital. 'My high blood pressure got too high. I started having tachycardia,' she said. Despite Mirtha's citizenship status, she hesitated to call emergency services, and instead had her husband drive her and drop her off at the emergency room entrance. Summer temperatures continue to rise and enforcement operations keep expanding. 'We're only seeing the beginning,' said Mar Velez, policy director at the Latino Coalition for a Healthy California. 'People are suffering silently.' Jason De León, a UCLA professor of anthropology and Chicana/o and Central American studies, warns that deportations taking place in the summer will also probably force many to reattempt border crossings under the most dangerous conditions of the year. 'We're not only putting people in harm's way in the United States,' he said, 'but then by deporting them in the summer … those folks are going to now be running this kind of deadly gantlet through the desert again. They are going to attempt to come back to the only life that many folks have, the only life they've ever known.' Isabel insists they're here for one thing: to work. 'We came here just to work, we want to be allowed to work,' she said. 'Not to feel like we do now, just going out and hiding.' More than anything, 'we want to be again like we were before — free.' This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times. Solve the daily Crossword
Los Angeles Times
43 minutes ago
- Los Angeles Times
Fear of ICE raids is making heat intolerable for Southern California families
For the last 16 years, Isabel has worked harvesting carrots, lemons and grapes in the Coachella Valley. The undocumented mother of three — who, like others The Times spoke with, declined to give her last name out of fear for her family's safety — says the heat in recent summers has been increasingly difficult to manage. And now, with fewer workers showing up due to fears of ongoing immigration enforcement raids across California, Isabel says she and those who remain have to endure fewer breaks and more physical strain. Crews that once numbered five groups of 18 workers each are down to three groups of 18. The demands, however, haven't changed. 'You have to pack so many boxes in a day,' Isabel said in Spanish. 'If it takes you a while to get water, you'll neglect the boxes you're packing. You have to put in more effort.' California's outdoor heat standard — which applies to all workers, legal or undocumented — guarantees breaks for shade and water. But the fear of falling behind often discourages workers from taking advantage, labor advocates say. And with fewer workers in the fields, employers have begun asking those who do show up to stay later into the day; some who used to be home by 1 p.m. are now in the fields during the hottest parts of the afternoon, they say. Isabel described a recent incident of a woman on her crew who appeared to be suffering from heatstroke. The supervisors did help her, 'but it took them a while to call 911,' Isabel said. Sandra Reyes, a program manager at TODEC Legal Center, which works with immigrants and their families in the Inland Empire and Coachella Valley, said she has seen the same pattern unfold across California's agricultural communities. Fewer workers means greater physical strain for those who remain. And in the fields, that strain compounds rapidly under high heat. 'There are times when the body just gives out,' Reyes said. 'All of this is derived from fear.' Across Southern California, from fields to homes, parks to markets, the fear of immigration enforcement is making it harder for individuals and families to stay safe as temperatures rise. Early on June 18 in the eastern Coachella Valley, word spread among the agricultural workers that unmarked cars and SUVS — and, later on, helicopters and convoys of military vehicles — that they rightly guessed carried federal agents were converging on the fields. Anticipating a raid by Customs and Border Protection or Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the reaction was immediate. Workers — many undocumented — fled, some going into the fields, hiding beneath grapevines or climbing up date palm trees. Local organizers began to get calls from frightened workers and their families. Making matters worse was the heat. Inland Congregations United for Change, a nonprofit community organization in San Bernardino, sent out teams with water and ice. They found a number of people who had been in the blazing sun for hours, afraid to return home. Some had run out of water as temperatures soared to 113 degrees, eating grapes off the vine in an attempt to stay hydrated. 'There [were] people who are elderly, who need medication,' said J. Reyes Lopez, who works with the organization. Officials later confirmed that the multiple-agency operation led by the Drug Enforcement Administration had detained 70 to 75 undocumented individuals — part of the Trump administration's immigration enforcement effort. In the days that followed, there were lasting impacts in the fields. 'Many [workers] have not returned to work, especially those with small children,' said TODEC's Reyes. And for those who did return, it soon became clear that they were expected to do the same amount of work, only now with fewer people. The summer of 2024 saw record-breaking heat in Southern California, and experts predict 2025 will be just as bad, if not worse. These rising temperatures — largely due to climate change — have serious effects on the health of workers and their families, said Arturo Vargas Bustamante, a UCLA professor of health policy and management. Exposure to extreme heat can trigger or exacerbate a raft of health issues such as cramps, strokes and cardiovascular and kidney disease, as well as mental health issues. It's not just agricultural workers who are affected. Car wash employees often are exposed to direct heat without regular access to water or breaks, said Flor Rodriguez, executive director of the CLEAN Carwash Worker Center. Because that industry has become a target for enforcement operations, car wash owners have had to hire staff to replace workers who have been apprehended or who no longer come in because they fear they could be next. That often means hiring younger or less experienced people who are unfamiliar with workplace conditions and protections. 'The most dangerous day for you at work is your first day,' said Sheheryar Kaoosji, executive director of the Warehouse Worker Resource Center. Even when workers feel physically unsafe, Kaoosji said, they may fail to speak up, due to fears about job security. When that happens, he said, 'preventative tactics like breaks, cooling down, drinking water, don't happen.' Itzel — a recipient of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals policy whose family lives in Long Beach — has seen the same patterns among her co-workers in the landscaping industry. 'They wanna get to the job site early and they want to leave as early as they can,' she said. 'They're not taking their breaks. … They're not taking their lunches.' When they do, it's often for 30 minutes or less, with many choosing to eat behind closed gates rather than under the shade of a tree if it means they can remain better hidden. Overexertion under peak heat, noted Javier Hernandez, executive director of the Inland Coalition for Immigrant Justice, is becoming a survival strategy — a way to reduce exposure to ICE, even at the cost of physical health. Heat, unlike more visible workplace hazards, often goes unreported and unrecognized, especially in industries where workers are temporary, undocumented or unfamiliar with their rights. 'There's a huge undercount of the number of people who are impacted by heat,' Kaoosji said. 'Heat is really complicated.' And with ICE presence now reported at clinics and hospitals, access to medical care has been compromised. 'It's just another way for people — these communities — to be terrorized,' Kaoosji said. In the Inland Empire, where summer temperatures regularly climb into the triple digits, Hernandez said many families are now making impossible choices: Do they turn on the air conditioning or buy groceries? Do they stay inside and risk heat exhaustion, or go outside and risk being taken? These questions have reshaped Isabel's life. She now goes to work only a few days a week, when she feels safe enough to leave her children. That means there's not enough money to cover the bills. Isabel and her family now spend most of the day confined to a single room in their mobile home, the only one with air conditioning. Their electricity bill has rocketed from $80 to $250 a month. So far, her family has been able to make partial payments to the utility, but she fears what will happen if their electricity gets cut off, as has happened to some of her neighbors. Before the raids, Isabel's family would cool off at a nearby stream, go to air-conditioned shops or grab a raspado, or shaved ice. But in the face of heightened enforcement, these sorts of routines have largely been abandoned. 'Those are very simple things,' Hernandez said, 'but they are very meaningful to families.' Fear also makes it difficult to spend time at public cooling centers, libraries or other public buildings that in theory could offer an escape from the heat. Isabel's youngest child isn't used to staying quiet for long periods, and she worries they'll draw attention in unfamiliar public spaces. 'I do my best to keep them cool,' Isabel said, explaining that she now resorts to bathing her children regularly as one cooling strategy. Itzel's father, who is undocumented, hasn't left his apartment in over a month out of fear of immigration enforcement actions. He used to make up to $6,000 a month as a trucker — now, he can't afford to turn on his air conditioning. Where once there were weekend walks, family barbecues, trips to the park or the beach to cool down, now there is isolation. 'We're basically in a cell,' Itzel said. 'This is worse than COVID. At least with COVID, we could walk around the block.' The same has been true for Mirtha, a naturalized citizen who lives in Maywood with her husband, whose immigration status is uncertain, and their five U.S.-born children. In previous summers, her family — which includes four special needs children — relied on public spaces, such as parks, splash pads, shopping centers and community centers to cool down. Now her family spends most of the time isolated and indoors. Even critical errands such as picking up medications or groceries have shifted to nighttime hours for safety reasons. Meanwhile, her husband, a cook, stopped working altogether in early June due to fear of deportation. Even turning on their one small air conditioner has become a financial decision. Constant fear, confinement and oppressive heat has worsened her children's mental and physical well-being, she said. Staying indoors has also led to serious health challenges for Mirtha herself, who suffers from high blood pressure and other medical conditions. On a particularly hot day on June 21, Mirtha got so sick she ended up in the hospital. 'My high blood pressure got too high. I started having tachycardia,' she said. Despite Mirtha's citizenship status, she hesitated to call emergency services, and instead had her husband drive her and drop her off at the emergency room entrance. Summer temperatures continue to rise and enforcement operations keep expanding. 'We're only seeing the beginning,' said Mar Velez, policy director at the Latino Coalition for a Healthy California. 'People are suffering silently.' Jason De León, a UCLA professor of anthropology and Chicana/o and Central American studies, warns that deportations taking place in the summer will also probably force many to reattempt border crossings under the most dangerous conditions of the year. 'We're not only putting people in harm's way in the United States,' he said, 'but then by deporting them in the summer … those folks are going to now be running this kind of deadly gantlet through the desert again. They are going to attempt to come back to the only life that many folks have, the only life they've ever known.' Isabel insists they're here for one thing: to work. 'We came here just to work, we want to be allowed to work,' she said. 'Not to feel like we do now, just going out and hiding.' More than anything, 'we want to be again like we were before — free.'
Boston Globe
17 hours ago
- Boston Globe
‘Utterly terrifying': Vt. school superintendent says he was interrogated for hours upon return from Nicaragua
'I don't wish this on anybody,' he said. 'It's utterly terrifying, as a US citizen, to be told you have no rights and you should stop talking about your rights.' Advertisement A spokesperson for Customs and Border Protection did not respond to a request for comment Thursday. Chavarría's detention Chavarría was born in a refugee camp on the border of Honduras and Nicaragua during the Nicaraguan Revolution. After completing high school in Canada, he moved to the US for college in 2008 and attained his citizenship a decade later. He remains a dual citizen of Nicaragua. A former teacher and principal, Chavarría has served for two years as superintendent of schools in Winooski, just outside of Burlington. It's the most diverse school district in the state. The district Advertisement Chavarría's own family has firsthand experience with President Donald Trump's immigration crackdown. His brother, sister-in-law and two nieces chose to 'self-deport' from Vermont to Nicaragua earlier this year after losing temporary immigration protections. The local high school During Chavarría's detention this week, he said, agents appeared focused on inspecting his electronic devices, including a personal cell phone and a district-issued tablet and laptop. Chavarría said he repeatedly made clear that the agents were welcome to search his personal files but not those pertaining to the district, citing student confidentiality laws. He ultimately allowed them to inspect the devices, once they promised not to access work-related files. At various points during the questioning, Chavarría said, agents appeared skeptical that he was a school superintendent and that he was married to his husband, Cyrus Dudgeon. 'I don't know how many married couples have to prove to the United States government that they are real,' Chavarría said. The two were kept apart as agents questioned Chavarría. 'It felt frightening not knowing what was happening to Wilmer,' Dudgeon said. Chavarría was eventually released without any explanation as to why he had been detained. He and Dudgeon missed their connecting flight. The next day, Chavarría received notice that he had been terminated from the Global Entry program. He said he expects to visit family in Nicaragua again but is 'terrified of doing so.' Nicole Mace, vice president of the Winooski School Board, said she was 'outraged' by Chavarría's treatment. 'I don't recognize this country anymore,' she said. 'What is happening? It's horrifying.' Advertisement
