UNTIL ICE JUST MELTS AWAY?
A protestor in Minneapolis, one of thousands demanding that ICE end its violent occupation of the city and its abuse of immigrants and people of color, carried a simple message: Americans in 2026 still believe in the nation’s founding principles of equality and the rule of law. That belief—not chaos, not extremism—is what now fills the streets.
What is happening in Minneapolis is not a rebellion against law. It is a rebellion against lawlessness by the federal government.
When federal immigration agents shoot and kill residents during opaque enforcement operations—and then shield themselves behind jurisdictional fog, immunity doctrines, and bureaucratic delay—the problem is not protest. The problem is power without accountability, exercised by agencies overseen by Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem and defended by a Justice Department now led by Attorney General Pam Bondi.
The killings of Renée Good and Alex Pretti did not spark unrest because Americans suddenly became radicalized. They sparked unrest because they laid bare a system in which armed federal agents operate inside U.S. cities with fewer checks than local police, weaker transparency requirements, and near-automatic protection from meaningful consequence. Minneapolis did not radicalize the country. ICE did—under leadership that has explicitly framed immigration enforcement as a show of force rather than a civil function bound by constitutional restraint.
The public response has been swift and unmistakable. Thousands marched through sub-zero streets not merely to grieve but to insist that constitutional rights do not end at the border—or at the badge of a federal agency. Protesters invoked the First Amendment, due process, equal protection, and the most basic democratic demand: if the government kills, the government must answer.
So far, that answer has been partial at best.
Under Attorney General Pam Bondi, the Department of Justice has opened a federal civil-rights investigation into the killing of Alex Pretti. That decision matters. It signals that the use of deadly force by federal agents is not automatically immune from scrutiny. But it also exposes a troubling inconsistency: no comparable investigation has been opened into the killing of Renée Good. Two deaths. One investigation. One silence.
That selectivity is not merely procedural. It is political.
Bondi’s DOJ has emphasized federal authority and jurisdictional limits while declining to explain why one killing triggers civil-rights review and another does not. At the same time, DHS—answerable to Secretary Noem—has resisted broader transparency, forcing courts to intervene simply to ensure that evidence is preserved. Accountability has not been embraced; it has been extracted under pressure.
The legal deck is stacked. Criminal prosecutions of federal officers face extraordinarily high barriers. Prosecutors must prove not only that deadly force was excessive, but that it was willfully unlawful. The Supremacy Clause allows federal agents to claim immunity from state prosecution so long as they assert they were acting within their official duties. In practice, that doctrine has become a near-automatic shield, transforming federal authority into federal insulation.
Minnesota Governor Tim Walz has demanded cooperation and accountability, while Minneapolis officials have questioned why their city is being subjected to a level of federal force more commonly associated with counterterrorism than civil immigration enforcement. Members of Congress, including Representative Pramila Jayapal and other House Judiciary Committee Democrats, are now pressing Bondi’s Justice Department to explain its selective approach to civil-rights enforcement.
Even some Republicans have voiced concern, warning that unchecked federal policing undermines public trust. That bipartisan unease underscores a central truth: this is no longer simply a debate about immigration policy. It is a debate about democratic control over armed federal power.
Civil rights groups, including the ACLU, have filed lawsuits alleging racial profiling, warrantless stops, and unconstitutional conduct by ICE and Border Patrol agents operating in Minneapolis. Yet recent Supreme Court decisions narrowing claims mean that even when constitutional violations occur, victims’ families may be left without meaningful recourse. Accountability, once again, is delayed—if it arrives at all.
This accountability crisis did not arise in a vacuum. It has been engineered, in part, by a Supreme Court that has steadily narrowed the ability of ordinary people to hold federal officials accountable for constitutional violations. In decisions written or joined by justices such as Clarence Thomas, Samuel Alito, and John Roberts, the Court has aggressively restricted claims, effectively telling victims of federal abuse that even clear violations of rights may have no remedy in court. The message has been unmistakable: federal officers can violate constitutional protections, but the courthouse doors may be closed. That judicial retreat from accountability now plays out on the streets of Minneapolis, where families are told to trust internal investigations instead of independent courts. A Constitution without enforceable remedies is not a shield, it is a suggestion. And when the Supreme Court treats accountability as optional, federal agencies learn to do the same.
Critics argue that protests like those in Minneapolis undermine order. The opposite is true. What undermines order is an enforcement regime that treats constitutional safeguards as optional, deploys militarized agents into civilian neighborhoods, and responds to public outrage with selective investigation and legal maneuvering.
The protesters are not rejecting American ideals. They are insisting that those ideals apply to everyone, including ICE Acting Director Todd Lyons, the agents he commands, and the Justice Department that decides when federal power will be restrained and when it will not.
This moment exposes a deeper truth: ICE has become an agency structurally insulated from democratic accountability. It operates across jurisdictions, blurs the line between civil enforcement and criminal policing, and relies on legal doctrines that make oversight rare and consequences rarer still. No democracy can sustain an enforcement apparatus that answers upward to political leadership but never outward to the public.
If citizens of the United States are serious about equality before the law, then accountability cannot depend on discretion exercised behind closed doors at DOJ. It must be automatic, independent, and uniform. That means mandatory federal review of all fatal uses of force by federal agents, full cooperation with state investigations, enforceable transparency standards, and consequences not just for individual officers—but for leadership failures at DHS and DOJ alike.
Minneapolis is not rejecting America. It is reminding the country what America claims to be.
In 2026, the demand echoing through the streets is not radical. It is foundational: no agency, no badge, no attorney general stands above the law. Equality without enforcement is a slogan. The rule of law without accountability is a lie. And the people of Minneapolis are no longer willing to accept either. Abolish DHS!
T. Michael Smith
wwwtmichaelsmith@gmail.com