Faith leaders and community members gather Thursday, Jan. 8, 2026 at the site where an ICE agent shot and killed Renee Good, 37, in south Minneapolis the previous day. (Photo by Nicole Neri/Minnesota Reformer)

Before Operation Metro Surge sent thousands of armed federal agents into Minneapolis, terrorizing families and spreading chaos and violence in formerly peaceful residential neighborhoods, local parent organizations were already setting up networks to provide mutual aid and safely transport children of immigrants to and from school.

“My school group of friends formed our first network of communication in October, after we saw what had happened in Chicago,” the mother of an elementary school student in South Minneapolis named Elizabeth told me in a phone interview Wednesday. She asked that her last name not be published, because of the danger of reprisals. 

The encrypted neighborhood chat started chiming for the first time on Tuesday, Dec. 9, she recalls, when “there were two people abducted early in the morning within blocks of my kid’s school.” When her child asked what was going on, “I said, you know, people are concerned about the safety of coming to school today,” Elizabeth recalls. “And like a good Minnesotan, my child realized that it was foggy outside and said, ‘Well, fog creates ice, and so the roads are probably slippery …’ And I said, yeah, they’re worried about ice on the roads. And I really had hope in that moment of naivety that that would be the last time we’d have to have that conversation. But it wasn’t.”

Since December, when Operation Metro Surge began, Elizabeth said her child’s class has shrunk from 25 students to just five. The school district has offered a remote learning option to immigrant families who are afraid to let their children leave the house. Meanwhile, the neighborhood chat group, which began with five families whose children played soccer together, has connected with hundreds of volunteers, many of whom don’t have kids in the school.

Because most of the families at the school are people of color, “we really had to start relying on our neighbors around us to help us, because we don’t have enough families that are not in danger,” Elizabeth said. Residents of nearby neighborhoods joined to form a group of 200 people who patrol the playground in the morning and afternoon and during recess, guard the nearby bus stops, and drive children from home to school and back again. 

In addition, volunteers pick up laundry every other week from families that are shut inside, and bring groceries, shopping for food at local Hispanic markets, which have taken a heavy hit after losing employees and customers during the immigration enforcement surge. 

There are many similar mutual aid groups throughout the area, each doing things in different ways. “There are a lot of micro projects happening everywhere,” Elizabeth said. And things are constantly changing. “It’s a living process,” she said. “No two days are the same.” 

While she tries to avoid contact with federal agents, ICE is everywhere in their neighborhood, Elizabeth said. She no longer allows her child to walk to the corner store alone. 

“ICE is constantly driving through our neighborhoods. They’re not obeying traffic signals. They’re not obeying traffic laws. They’re running through stop signs. They’re going the wrong way on one-ways,” Elizabeth said. While she isn’t afraid that her child, who is white, will be snatched and sent to immigration detention, she worries about the possibility of her child stumbling upon a violent action, “or they could get tear-gassed, very easily.”

The Department of Homeland Security’s rationale for the federal immigration enforcement surge is to enhance public safety. But it’s very clear from talking to people in Minneapolis that armed agents speeding through neighborhoods, smashing car windows and dragging people out of their homes has shattered the sense of safety residents used to have. 

Elizabeth does not claim that her neighborhood group can overcome that, or effectively deter ICE. Instead, she describes its purpose as offering comfort to immigrant parents. And for the children, she says, “I really make sure that I’m there every day so they can see the same faces, so there’s some stability in their day.”

“We’ve got families that have been in hiding for nine weeks now,” she adds. “… I want them to know that we were here for them.”

As for her own child, “I have to be really honest,” she said. She’s had to give up her hope, before the surge, not to have to talk about the sickening danger all around them. “They live in a community, and they need to be part of their community,” she said. “Right now, their community is under attack, and so I think it is my responsibility as a parent to make sure that they see that, and that they understand that this is not how you treat your neighbors. That, like I said, our community needs love, help and support right now. And so we have lots of conversations about it.”

Her child misses the friends who aren’t coming to school, and makes an effort to stay in touch and fill them in on what is happening. And there are the daily car rides with the handful of kids Elizabeth drives to school and home again. 

Those car rides are important, she said. She has a bag of snacks and a playlist the kids get to curate. “We’ve listened to a lot of K-pop,” she said. “We try to have as much joy and fun as we can for them, and to create those safe spaces and make sure that there’s laughter.”

As Wisconsinites worry about whether we will be next, I asked Elizabeth about the reluctance of some public officials to make concrete community defense plans, for fear it might put a target on our so-called sanctuary communities, and draw the very ICE surge they dread. 

“It comes back to being a good neighbor,” she said. “I’m not sure that any organizing that we’ve done or did or will do is necessarily a flag calling attention to us. It’s just we’ve got neighbors that are hungry. How are we going to feed our neighbors? We have neighbors that can’t pay their bills. How are we going to help? … To some degree it’s somewhat selfish, right? Like, I need, in order for my child to succeed in school, there needs to be continuity … I care about my community.”

“I would recommend people not be scared and not think of it as organizing against the government, but organizing for the people in your neighborhood,” she added. “And if it’s not your neighborhood, if it’s a neighborhood next to you, know where those neighborhoods are that might be impacted, and find ways that you can support that neighborhood.”

President Trump's statements that Republicans should take over and run elections in many states, the domestic deployment of armed agents who are shooting people in nearby cities, along with Wisconsin's long struggle over fair voting rules, makes for a tense election season. But voters still have the power to defend their rights. | Photo of an anti-gerrymandering sign in the Wisconsin State Capitol by the Wisconsin Examiner

Wisconsin was almost certainly on President Donald Trump’s mind when he said this week, “We should take over the voting, the voting in at least many — 15 places. The Republicans ought to nationalize the voting.”

Our swing state was Ground Zero for the fake electors plot to overturn the results of the 2020 election after Trump narrowly lost here. Wisconsin U.S. Sen. Ron Johnson’s office was involved in the effort to pass off fraudulent Electoral College ballots cast by state Republicans for Trump. Our state Legislature hosted countless hearings spotlighting election deniers and wasted $2.5 million in taxpayer dollars on a fruitless “investigation” of the 2020 presidential results, led by disgraced former Supreme Court Justice Michael Gableman, who threatened to arrest the mayors of Madison and Green Bay.

So how worried should we be about Trump’s election takeover threats?

“I wouldn’t be overly concerned that the president could get anything done that’s directly contrary to the Constitution,” says John Vaudreuil, a former U.S. Attorney for the Western District of Wisconsin and a member of the nonpartisan group Keep Our Republic, which works to promote trust in elections.

Not only does Article I of the U.S. Constitution expressly delegate elections administration to the states, Wisconsin has one of the most decentralized elections systems in the country, with about 1,800 local clerks running elections in counties, municipalities and townships throughout the state. “And they are Republicans, they are Democrats, they are independent,” Vaudreuil says. “Most fundamentally, they’re our neighbors, they’re our friends.” 

Trump’s threats of a federal takeover would be both legally and practically hard to pull off in Wisconsin.

But there is still reason to worry. Sowing distrust in elections takes a toll on clerks and poll workers, who have become less willing to put up with the threats and hostility generated by Trump’s attacks. Vaudreuil urges people to support their local elections officials and poll workers and spread the word that the work they do is important and that elections are secure.

Then there’s the danger that Trump could use his own false claims about election fraud to send federal immigration agents to the polls on the pretext that it’s necessary to address the nonexistent problem of noncitizen voting.

Doug Poland, director of litigation at the voting rights focused firm Law Forward, has been involved in election-related litigation in Wisconsin for years, including a lawsuit to block the Trump administration from forcing the state to turn over sensitive voter information. 

Poland sees Trump’s threats to “nationalize” elections as part of a pivot from Republican efforts to make in-person voting harder — on the dubious theory that there’s a huge problem with voter impersonation at the polls — to a new focus on stopping absentee voting after many people began using mail-in ballots during the pandemic. But really, it’s all about trying to make sure fewer people vote.

Under former Republican Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker, Wisconsin passed a strict voter ID law, which one Republican former staffer testified made Republican legislators “giddy” as they discussed how it would make it more difficult for students and people of color to vote. 

Like Vaudreuil, Poland sees the current threat from the Trump administration not as an actual takeover of election administration by the federal government, but as an escalation of intimidation tactics.

“Noncitizens generally don’t vote. So it’s a lie,” Poland says. “But it’s, of course, the lie that they’re going to use as a premise to send, whether it’s ICE or whomever it may be, to polling places, probably in locations with Black and brown populations, and that is purely for the purpose of intimidation. And at the same time, they’re pushing back very hard on absentee voting by mail.”

If the Trump administration is preparing to send armed federal agents to the polls to intimidate voters, absentee voting will be more important than ever in the upcoming elections.

Yet, U.S. Sen. Ron Johnson recently told constituents that while he doesn’t think the federal government should take over elections administration, “I think we need to tighten up the requirements for absentee voting. I’m opposed to mail in register or mail in balloting.”

And as Erik Gunn reports, Wisconsin U.S. Rep. Bryan Steil’s Make Elections Great Again Act would restrict absentee voting, along with adding new layers of citizen verification steps while threatening to defund elections administrators who fail to comply with the bill’s onerous requirements.

“They’re going to do everything they can to try to make it harder to vote absentee by mail, to make it harder to vote absentee in person,” Poland says, adding, “They’re going to try to do it so they can put ICE agents around polling places and just try to intimidate people, to keep them away.”

So what can be done?

Voter intimidation is a crime, and specific instances can be addressed through lawsuits, Poland says. Still, he acknowledges (and Law Forward has argued in court) that once someone is deprived of the right to cast a ballot, there’s no remedy that can adequately compensate for that loss. That’s why it was so appalling when the city of Madison asserted that absentee voting is a “privilege” in response to a lawsuit brought by Poland’s organization over 200 lost ballots in the 2024 election.

Of course, in addition to worries about possible violations of individuals’ right to vote, there’s the fear that Trump could manage to subvert elections through heavy-handed tactics like the recent FBI raid to seize 2020 ballots from Fulton County. Both Vaudreuil and Poland think judges would step in to prevent such a seizure in the middle of an election, before the ballots were counted.

Meanwhile, in Wisconsin, absentee voting remains legal and many municipalities are using secure ballot drop boxes. We need to keep on making use of our right (not our privilege) to vote, using all the tools we have in place.

As for the intimidating effect of armed ICE agents at polling places, local officials and perhaps local law enforcement could have a role in protecting the polls and reassuring voters it’s safe to cast their ballots. Neighbors who have been organizing to warn people of ICE raids, bring food to immigrants who are afraid to leave their homes, and form a protective shield around schools could become self-appointed polling place protectors.

If we are going to defend the core tenets of our democracy against an administration that has demonstrated over and over again its contempt for the Constitution and the rule of law, it’s going to take massive public resistance and a flat refusal to give up our rights.

“What is it that will make them stand down from what they’re doing to break the law?” asks Poland. “I think the people of Minnesota have answered that for us better than anybody else can, which is that you have to stand up, you have to exercise your rights, First Amendment rights, the right to vote.”

Exercising our rights is the only way to make sure they are not taken away. Courage and collective action are the best protection we’ve got.

Marchers begin a walking and singing vigil outside All God's Children Church in Minneapolis on Jan. 17, 2026 | Photo by Ruth Conniff/Wisconsin Examiner

“A great American city is being invaded by its own federal government,” Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey said on Saturday, after Border Patrol agents shot and killed an ICU nurse from Green Bay, Alex Pretti, in broad daylight while restraining him on the ground outside a doughnut shop.

In this dizzying new era of state terror, citizens and community leaders alike are trying to figure out what to do. What power do we have to face down a violent, repressive government targeting civilians in an operation aimed not at protecting public safety but at disrupting and destroying civil society? 

At a press conference with local media last week, U.S. Rep. Mark Pocan promised to fight against a Minneapolis-like surge in Wisconsin, drawing a lot of probing follow-up questions from reporters. Pocan voted against $64 billion in funding for the Department of Homeland Security that passed the House and is now, belatedly, facing difficulties in the Senate. He said he would work with local law enforcement, support lawsuits filed by Wisconsin Attorney General Josh Kaul and other state AGs against aggressive ICE deployments, and encourage peaceful protestors marching in inflatable dinosaur costumes. 

But the question of how to fight back is a tough one.

The federal government has created a massive paramilitary organization that is systematically terrorizing Democratic-led Midwestern cities. The 3,000 immigration agents in Minneapolis far outnumber the local police force there. We have never seen anything quite like this.

Minnesota elected officials seem to be struggling with the question of how to resist and how to defend their citizens. Along with strong language about the damage the federal crackdown is doing to the community, Frey and Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz repeatedly admonished protesters to remain peaceful, then deployed the Minnesota National Guard to block people from visiting a memorial at the site of Pretti’s death. Bringing in local and state law enforcement and the Guard to police protesters seems to buttress the Trump administration’s false claims that Minnesotans are the ones causing the violence, and that more armed men policing civilian neighborhoods will increase public safety. In reality, federal agents are the ones who are acting violently, not Minneapolis residents, and it’s not clear that local and state police are doing anything to protect the public from this threat.

The fact is, it’s hard to figure out what to do.

In Madison, on Saturday night more than 100 of my neighbors packed the James Reeb Unitarian Universalist Church for a potluck and discussion of nonviolent action, looking for answers to the terrible questions raised by the shooting death of yet another civilian in Minneapolis. 

How do we prepare for the possibility of an onslaught of armed federal agents into our own communities, busting down doors without warrants, dragging people out of their homes and firing on the neighbors who try to protect them? What power do we have to turn back the transformation of our country from democracy to authoritarian regime? 

The Madison event, planned before Pretti was killed, was organized by a coalition of dozens of peace and social justice groups under the umbrella Building Unity for Nonviolent Action. Speakers, including my friend John Nichols of The Nation magazine and Dane County Judge and Rev. Everett Mitchell, talked about the history of peaceful resistance in the U.S. The group showed part of the documentary “A Force More Powerful” about transformative nonviolent resistance struggles in India, the segregated American South, South Africa, Denmark and Chile. 

It was restorative to gather in person, take a break from isolation, helpless rage and doomscrolling and to spend some time contemplating the heroism of the Civil Rights movement activists who faced down hatred and violence with astounding courage and faith — despite all evidence to the contrary — in the fundamental decency of other people.

The difference between the Civil Rights era and today — and even the difference between the Black Lives Matter movement against police violence of a few years ago and today — is that the federal government can no longer be counted on to enforce civil rights, due process and justice. We are in a new era. “Those protections are gone,” Rev. Mitchell told the crowd. “So the only thing that you have available to you is each other.”

That bracing realization has spurred a proliferation of nonviolent resistance trainings in Minnesota and in other states, including Wisconsin.

One salutary side effect is that peaceful gatherings that bring out our capacity for love, mutual aid and connection help us avoid drowning in anger and despair.

Last weekend we drove to Minneapolis to visit our daughter who is, alarmingly, living in the middle of the chaos there. On our way to take her out for lunch we came upon a massive group of people holding a walking vigil in the neighborhood near where Renee Good was shot. About 600 Minnesotans were walking the streets singing, “You are not alone” and “Hold on, here comes the dawn,” as immigrant children and their parents peered out the windows of locked houses, waving. It was an unexpected moment of grace. A glimpse of the humanity and caring that are still possible. We need to hold onto that vision.

Pete Buttigieg speaks at a town hall in La Crosse, Wis. on Jan. 16, 2026. | Photo by Ruth Conniff/Wisconsin Examiner

Dairy farmers and U.S. military veterans were heavily represented among the hundreds of voters from western Wisconsin and Minnesota who packed the La Crosse convention center Friday night, braving snow and freezing temperatures to hear what former U.S. Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg had to say about our current political predicament.

Buttigieg was following in the footsteps of other Democrats who have visited Wisconsin’s closely divided 3rd Congressional District to needle Republican U.S. Rep. Derrick Van Orden for failing to meet publicly with his constituents who are bearing the brunt of tariffs, high prices and unaffordable health care spurred by Trump administration policies Van Orden has supported. 

In making his La Crosse appearance to bolster a Democratic candidate in a swing district ahead of the midterms — and perhaps to stick his toe in the water ahead of a potential 2028 presidential run — Buttigieg connected with rural and blue-collar Midwestern voters.That’s something Democrats arguably need to do better if they are going to overcome total domination by the party of President Donald Trump. 

The most interesting thing about the La Crosse town hall was the energized audience of rural and small-town Wisconsin and Minnesota residents worried about the the scary, violent authoritarian regime that is rapidly consolidating its power over a stunned and fractured citizenry. 

Democratic state Sen. Brad Pfaff, who took the stage ahead of Buttigieg, praised him as “a son of the Midwest,” denounced President Donald Trump’s gilded White House ballroom, and declared, “The rich get tax breaks and what do the rest of us get? Rising costs!” Pfaff also took a jab at “tech bros” who got front-row seats at Trump’s inauguration and are profiting from algorithms that sow “hate and distrust and division.” 

Buttigieg picked up on that theme, urging people to reach out in person to connect with their neighbors who might disagree with them. Responding to a veteran in the audience who said he was in despair about talking to people who live in a pro-Trump social media bubble and who “don’t know how close to the abyss we really are,” Buttigeig said, ”This is where I believe in the power of the offline.” 

“We are increasingly sorted into these silos where not just our opinions, but our facts, or would-be facts, are presented to us. But our relationships, our families, our neighborhoods, our communities, our churches, our little league, our sports loyalty, right? That’s where we have a chance to get through to people.”

Rebecca Cooke, who lost her challenge to Van Orden in 2024 by three percentage points and is seeking a rematch, used her few minutes on stage ahead of Buttigieg to emphasize her dairy farm upbringing and work experience as a waitress, declaring, “I’m a working-class Wisconsinite who hopes to be your next member of Congress.” Cooke touted “right to repair,” legislation, “so every time your John Deere breaks down you don’t have to go to the dealership.” Her parents, she said, were on their annual trip to Mexico to get their dental work done for an affordable price “which is ridiculous.” She described how her dad was hit with a bill for over $1,000 at Walgreen’s when he went to fill a prescription for cancer medication. She’s running, she said, to represent people who “just want to be able to put gas in the car and have a little money left over.”

Going beyond Democrats’ ubiquitous talking points about “affordability,” audience members brought up their spiritual beliefs, the meaning of democracy, how technological change is driving a growing sense of alienation, the need to reconnect with neighbors and overcome political divisions, and the horror of seeing federal agents gun down a woman in a residential neighborhood in Minneapolis.

A young woman who lives near Minneapolis broke down crying as she asked Buttigieg, “How do we deal with this attack on our community, on people that we love?”

“The only antidote to a politics of fear is a politics of courage,” Buttigieg told her, praising her compassion and her desire to work for change. “It seems like you’re alone in caring,” he added, but “the majority of Americans think what’s going on there is wrong.” He had just come from talking to farmers in a conservative area of the state, he said, who were very worried about the impact of immigration enforcement on their workers. “We can bring together strange bedfellows,” he said, “as they’re doing everything they can to pull us apart.” 

A Vietnam veteran, part of a large contingent of vets who stood to accept applause as Buttigieg acknowledged them and thanked them for their service, held up a copy of the U.S. Constitution and said he was upset by Trump’s “abuse” of the military and the National Guard. “I’m really worried that a lot of our people are going to look at our veterans, look at the National Guard — and I’ve got that same creepy feeling that we used to have when we came back before — we’re not going to get the respect for what we really are.”

“Thank you for reminding us of your experience, and I know that was an experience for, really, a generation of service members,” Buttigieg said. When he finished his tour of duty in Afghanistan, he added, “I was fortunate to belong to a generation of veterans who came home to a pretty good welcome, because our country learned the hard way how to separate its attitudes about a policy from its attitudes about the people who were sent somewhere by that policy.”

He connected that change in attitude to a general capacity Americans have for learning from their mistakes, “We learned, we grew. That’s the best thing about this country,” he said. Current efforts to whitewash U.S. history assume that “any time you talk about the things that were wrong about America, that must mean you hate America,” he said, but “some of the finest moments that brought out the greatest character of this country is how we put it right.”

There’s a long way to go before we put things right in our country now, just one year into what already appears to be the most destructive administration in U.S. history. But the feeling in the room at the town hall in La Crosse was hopeful that a new, majoritarian politics could shake off the divisiveness and fear of the Trump era and reclaim democracy and a government by and for the people.

As third-generation dairy farmer Sabrina Servais put it, describing the loss of half of dairy farms in Wisconsin since the early 2000s and her fierce love for her own family’s small, organic farm, “the most beautiful place on Earth,”  “It’s easy to feel small when you’re so far away in rural America. Will anyone listen? … But we matter. We’re a swing state. We have the power to change the outcome of elections. We are the working class of America. How dare they doubt us? … We believe that, despite everything, the world is still beautiful.”

Julia Coelho leads a song at a vigil outside the Wisconsin State Capitol after the killing of Renee Good by ICE agent Jonathan Ross in Minneapolis, MN. (Photo by Isiah Holmes/Wisconsin Examiner)

At a vigil outside the Wisconsin State Capitol Friday evening, a few days after a federal agent shot and killed Minneapolis mother Renee Nicole Good, hundreds of people held candles and raised their voices in a call and response song led by Madison Community Singing leader Julia Coelho: “This is way too big for you to carry it on your own …  you do not carry this all alone.”

Tiny lights flickered in the darkness. “This is not a rally centered on chants or speeches,” an organizer from the immigrant rights group Voces de la Frontera told the crowd. Instead, it was a moment to acknowledge our collective shock and grief, to support each other as we face the sickening and disorienting shift in the world around us, and to try to hold onto a protective sense of community. 

It was a needed respite from watching the video, obtained by the Minnesota Reformer, of the shooting of Good in broad daylight as she sat at the wheel of her minivan on a Midwestern residential street, apparently trying to move away from the agent who shot her. The horror of that scene was compounded by the propaganda from the Trump administration that followed, immediately blaming Good for her own death and calling her a “domestic terrorist,” while claiming that the real victim was the ICE agent who, after he shot her, walked away unhurt. 

Stoking political division and hate, justifying murder, treating people’s real lives like a video game — our poisonous political atmosphere is overwhelming. We need to put down the screens and restore our sense of human connection if we are going to overcome it.

Dane County Judge and Pastor Everett Mitchell, speaking at the vigil, quoted Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s eulogy for the three little girls killed in the 1963 bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama. Their deaths, King said, “have something to say to every minister of the gospel who has remained silent behind the safe security of stained-glass windows. They have something to say to every politician who has fed his constituents with the stale bread of hatred and the spoiled meat of racism,” as well as to those who “stood on the sidelines in a mighty struggle for justice.”

“Madison,” Mitchell said, “we can no longer stand on the sideline and feel like we are protected. We must substitute courage for caution.”

Here in Wisconsin, the Minneapolis shooting hits close to home. Minnesota is our near neighbor. My daughter, who lives in the Twin Cities, was driving past the area of the ICE surge when Good was shot. She texted us about the unfolding chaos in real time, as ICE vehicles sped past her — putting our whole family on edge. 

Maybe we have had the false sense, as Mitchell said, that we were protected. 

The “Midwest nice” culture of Minnesota and Wisconsin — whether that describes taciturn conflict avoidance or genuine warmth — doesn’t fit with political violence. 

It’s impossible to see ourselves in Trump’s heated rhetoric about the “Radical Left Movement of Violence and Hate.” Nicole Good, whose last words were, “I’m not mad at you,” certainly doesn’t fit that profile. 

The killing of a U.S. citizen by federal agents, justified after the fact by the president, vice president, and secretary of Homeland Security, is a turning point for all of us. As investigative reporter Ken Klippenstein points out, Trump’s national security order targeting so-called leftwing domestic terrorist groups, and Attorney General Pam Bondi’s tag-along directive, “Ending Political Violence Against ICE” broadly justify the targeting of Americans who protest Trump’s immigration crackdown or attempt to help their immigrant neighbors who are being terrorized.

In a video filmed by the agent who shot Renee Good, released by a right-wing news outlet that tried to spin it as exonerating him, you can hear a man’s voice, immediately after the shooting, cursing Good, calling her a “f-ing bitch.” 

A Customs and Border Patrol Agent who shot Chicago resident Marimar Martinez five times and bragged about it in text messages, also allegedly used the word “bitch” as he rammed into her car, according to Martinez’s attorney. The Justice Department initially claimed Martinez, who survived. was the aggressor, saying she used her car to try to harm the agents — the same dubious claim made against Good — but then dropped all charges after Martinez challenged the government’s evidence.

Turning hyped-up, poorly trained agents onto the streets to pursue civilians is, contrary to Trump administration propaganda, making America much less safe. And pouring fuel on the fire with hateful rhetoric about “the radical Left” and the need to round up immigrant “criminals” —  a majority of whom have committed no crimes — is exacerbating this disaster.

The Trace puts the number of ICE shootings at 16, four of them fatal, since the Trump administration’s immigration crackdown began — including Silverio Villegas González, a father from Mexico who worked as a cook, killed just after he dropped off his children at school, while reportedly trying to flee from ICE officers during the Midway Blitz in Chicago. At the vigil Friday night, Mitchell connected those killings to racist violence from the Civil Rights era to the 2020 murder of George Floyd. “And now carved into the same, sorrowful stone is the name of Renee Nicole Good,” Mitchell said.

People are struggling to figure out what to make of our frightening new reality. At the Madison vigil, one activist declared that the escalating ICE crackdown “is not because they are inevitably powerful. It is because we are powerful.” But the escalation, which is targeting people who are decidedly not powerful, is coming directly out of the more than $170 billion allocated to immigration enforcement in the One Big Beautiful Bill Act — more than the yearly budget for all local and state law enforcement agencies in the U.S. combined, according to the Brennan Center. The Trump administration is using this newly empowered militarized police force to target civilians the administration characterizes as enemies. 

Most of the people I know are aghast at this scary turn of events. But one Wisconsinite I spoke with waved away the shooting, saying, “Minneapolis has a lot of problems.” There’s that false sense of being protected Mitchell called out. It’s really just denial — a powerful wish to believe that bad things only happen to other people, that violence is far away and somehow the fault of people who are different from us and who bring it on themselves.

But this touches all of us. And it won’t go away unless we get to the root of the problem — the unAmerican national security directives, the insane ICE budget, the lack of accountability — what Vice President JD Vance, astoundingly, asserted was “total immunity” for the rogue, masked agents targeting people in a political crackdown that has nothing to do with keeping us safe.

We have to see this for what it is. We need members of Congress to demand a rollback of the massive funding for Trump’s unaccountable police force. We need leaders who will state clearly, as Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz and Attorney General Keith Ellison and Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey have done, that political violence against civilians waged by the Trump administration is immoral, illegal and has to stop. 

Most of all, we need each other. This is too heavy for one person to carry. We need to connect, to combine all of our efforts and to build a massive popular movement to take care of each other and reject the hateful forces that are trying to tear us apart.

Protesters supporting U.S. President Donald Trump break into the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021, in Washington, D.C. (Photo by Win McNamee/Getty Images)

Five years ago today we were transfixed by the surreal spectacle of the attack on the U.S. Capitol. The violence and horror of that day was made more bearable when the insurrectionists were arrested and the election results they tried to overturn were certified.

But now they’re back, pardoned by President Donald Trump, released from prison and planning to parade triumphantly today through the streets of Washington, D.C. 

Among the people convicted and later pardoned by Trump, at least 33 have been arrested and charged with new crimes, according to the watchdog group Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington. Their alleged continuing criminal behaviors include rape, illegal possession of weapons, firing on police officers, and, in the case of Chrisopher Moynihan, threatening to murder House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries. 

Some of the most violent offenders are back behind bars. But the most powerful proponents of the Big Lie, including Trump himself, the enablers who staff his administration and the Wisconsin Republicans who hatched the fake electors scheme to try to overturn the results of the 2020 election, continue to work to undermine our democracy. 

“We must continue to defeat election deniers and the threats they pose,” the Wisconsin-based progressive firm Law Forward declares on its website, in a section devoted to a timeline of the fake electors scheme. Law Forward brought the first class-action lawsuit against the fake electors, and forced the release of documents, text messages and other evidence showing how the plot unfolded, starting in Wisconsin. They present the timeline “as a call to action for every American to see how close our democracy came to toppling and how the freedom to vote must continue to be protected, not taken for granted.” 

For a few years it seemed as though we had dispelled the nightmare of Jan. 6. But the lawless, emboldened second Trump administration has dragged us back to that scary, dangerous time.

The brave work of people like Jeff Mandell, founder of Law Forward, and the other lawyers, judges and investigators who continue to struggle against the agents of authoritarianism trying to destroy American democracy is still making a difference. 

Last month, Dane County Judge John Hyland found probable cause to continue the trial of Wisconsin attorney James Troupis and Trump campaign aide Mike Roman, charged with felony forgery by Wisconsin Attorney General Josh Kaul in connection with the fake electors scheme. Hyland  rejected Troupis’ desperate effort to scuttle the case by claiming another judge had a personal bias against him.

Wisconsin attorney Ken Cheseboro, the originator of the fake electors plot, is also facing felony charges.

As Trump and his gang openly defy the U.S. Constitution, pursue baseless, vindictive prosecutions of their political enemies, launch military actions without the consent of Congress, threaten to seize other countries and use their positions to enrich themselves while destroying the public welfare, it feels as through that dark moment on Jan. 6 when American democracy was under physical attack was just the beginning.

But as Mandell told me last year, a few months after Trump took office, “I think building a stronger, more resilient democracy in Wisconsin is its own form of resistance.”

“When things feel most shocking and unstable at the federal level,” at the state and local level, Mandell said, “we can show our institutions still work and provide some reassurance.” 

We need that reassurance today more than ever.

“We are slow to realize that democracy is a life and involves continual struggle,” said Robert M. La Follette, the great governor and senator from Wisconsin and founder of the Progressive movement. I’m grateful for the Wisconsinites today who, like La Follette, are committed to that life and willing to continue the struggle.

Judge Hannah Dugan leaves court in her federal trial, where she was convicted of a felony for obstructing immigration officers. (Photo by Isiah Holmes/Wisconsin Examiner)

According to the Eastern District of Wisconsin’s Interim U.S. Attorney Brad Schimel, freshly appointed to his position by President Donald Trump, the federal trial of Milwaukee Judge Hannah Dugan had nothing to do with politics. “There’s not a political aspect to it,” Schimel told reporters after Dugan’s felony conviction on charges she obstructed U.S. immigration agents as they tried to make an arrest inside the Milwaukee courthouse. “We weren’t trying to make an example out of anyone,” Schimel said. “This was necessary to hold Judge Dugan accountable because of the actions she took.”

Schimel didn’t say whether Dugan’s very public arrest and perp walk through the courthouse was also necessary, along with the social media posts by Trump’s FBI director Kash Patel and Attorney General Pam Bondi, crowing about the arrest and sharing photos of Dugan in handcuffs. 

There is no doubt that the Dugan case was highly political from the start. 

As a coalition of democracy and civic organizations in Wisconsin declared in a statement after the verdict, Dugan’s prosecution threatens the integrity of our justice system and “sends a troubling message about the consequences faced by judges who act to protect due process in their courtrooms.”

But Schimel is right about one thing: Dugan’s trial this week was mainly about “a single day — a single bad day — in a public courthouse.”

That narrow focus helped the prosecution win a conviction in a confusing mixed verdict. The jury found Dugan not guilty of a misdemeanor offense for concealing Eduardo Flores-Ruiz, the defendant she led out a side door while immigration agents waited near the main door of her courtroom to arrest him. At the same time, the jury found Dugan guilty of the more serious charge of obstructing the agents in their effort to make the arrest. The two charges are based on some of the same elements, and Dugan’s defense attorneys are now asking that her conviction be overturned on that basis.

An observer watching the trial from afar with no inside knowledge of the defense strategy might wonder why Dugan’s defense team didn’t enter a guilty plea on the misdemeanor charge and then strongly contest the felony obstruction charge as an outrageous overreach in a heavily politicized prosecution. That might have led to a more favorable mixed verdict, in which the jury found that Dugan was probably guilty of something, but that it did not rise to the level of a felony with a potential penalty of five years in prison.

I’m no expert, but daily reports from the trial this week gave me the strong impression that things weren’t going well for Dugan as long as witnesses and lawyers focused on a blow-by-blow account of the events of April 18. Witness testimony described an agitated Dugan, whose colleague, Judge Kristela Cervera, testified — damagingly —  that she was uncomfortable with how Dugan managed the federal agents she was outraged to find hanging around outside her courtroom. 

It’s not surprising that the jury agreed with the prosecution that Dugan was not cooperative and that she wanted to get Flores-Ruiz out of her courtroom in a way that made an end-run around the unprecedented meddling of federal immigration enforcement inside the courthouse. Like other judges and courthouse staff, she was upset about the disruption caused by ICE agents stalking people who showed up to court.

But, as Dean Strang, a law professor at Loyola University Chicago School of Law and a long-time Wisconsin criminal defense lawyer, told me in April just before he joined the defense team and stopped talking about the case to the press, “Whatever you think of the actual conduct the complaint alleges, there is a real question about whether there’s even arguably any federal crime here.” 

The government’s behavior was “extraordinarily atypical” for a nonviolent, non-drug charge involving someone who is not a flight risk, Strang added.

The handcuffs, the public arrest at Dugan’s workplace, the media circus — none of it was normal, or justified. When Bondi and Patel began posting pictures of Dugan in handcuffs on social media to brag about it, “what is it they are trying to do?” Strang asked. His conclusion: “Humiliate and terrify, not just her but every other judge in the country.”

The Wisconsin Democracy Campaign, Voces de la Frontera, and Common Cause-Wisconsin agree with that assessment, writing in their statement reacting to the conviction that Dugan’s felony conviction threatens the integrity of our justice system as a whole, and undermines the functioning of the courts by scaring away defendants, witnesses and plaintiffs who are afraid they might be arrested if they show up to participate in legal proceedings.

But that big picture perspective was not a major feature of the defense’s closing arguments, which relied heavily on raising reasonable doubt about Dugan’s intentions and her actions during a stressful and chaotic day.

That’s frustrating because, contrary to Schimel’s assertions, the big picture, not the events of “a single bad day” is what was actually at stake in this case.

One of the most distressing aspects of the Dugan trial was the prosecution’s through-the-looking-glass invocation of the rule of law and the integrity of the courts.

The federal agents called to the stand, the prosecutors in the courtroom, and Schimel, in his summary of the case, made a big point about the “safety” of law enforcement officers. 

Repeatedly, we heard that immigration agents prefer to make arrests inside courthouses because they provide a “safe” environment in which to operate. 

In his comments on the verdict, Schimel emphasized that Dugan jeopardized the safety of federal officers by causing them to arrest Flores-Ruiz on the street instead of inside the courthouse: “The defendant’s actions provided an opportunity for a wanted subject to flee outside of that secure courthouse environment,” Schimel said.

This upside-down view of safety has become a regular MAGA talking point, with Republicans claiming that when citizens demand that masked agents identify themselves or make videos of ICE dragging people out of their cars, they are jeopardizing the safety of law enforcement officers — as opposed to trying to protect their neighbors’ safety in the face of violent attacks by anonymous thugs. 

Churches, day care centers and peaceful suburban neighborhoods are also “safe” environments for armed, masked federal agents. But their activities there are making our communities less safe. 

Assistant U.S. Attorney Kelly Brown Watzka, delivering the prosecution’s closing argument, told the jury it must draw a line against judges interfering with law enforcement, or else “there is only chaos,” and that “chaos is what the rule of law is intended to prevent.”

But chaos is what we have now, with federal agents terrorizing communities, dragging people out of courthouses and private residences, deporting them without due process and punishing those who stand in their way in an attempt to defend civil society.

The real questions raised by Dugan’s case are whether we believe the “safety” of the agents making those dubious arrests matters more than the safety of our communities, and whether we want the courts to be able to regulate the conduct in their own courthouses as a check on the government’s exercise of raw power.

Wisconsin politicians denounce the "billionaire loophole" that makes state elections so expensive, but they're still raising tons of cash. | Getty Images

Two high-profile candidates for governor of Wisconsin, Republican U.S. Rep. Tom Tiffany and Democratic former Lt. Gov. Mandela Barnes, have denounced the unlimited flow of cash into state political campaigns. Then, practically in the same breath, both men announced their plans to raise tens of millions of dollars, signalling to their less well funded primary opponents that they might as well get out of the way.

In an interview with PBS Wisconsin on Dec. 5, Tiffany criticized “that pass-through loophole, I call it the ‘billionaire loophole,’” in Wisconsin law, adding, “there’s just so much money that comes into Wisconsin.” 

“You can cry about it or you can compete,” Tiffany continued. “We choose to compete … We’re hoping to raise $40 million.”

As Baylor Spears reports, Tiffany actually voted for the “billionaire loophole” he now criticizes back when he was serving in the state Senate in 2015. 

Mandela Barnes, in a recent campaign stop in Madison, told Spears and other reporters that he has raised a “strong haul,” in the first week of his campaign, and that he intends to raise a staggering $50 million by the end of the race. He added that he doesn’t like the role of money in politics. “It’s not a good sign,” he said, and his future goal is “to get big money out of politics” and enact “campaign and ethics reform.”

Back in 2015, when Republicans were ramming through the “billionaire loophole,” Barnes opposed it, saying at the time that it would allow “shady special interest money and allow for more corruption to go undetected and unprosecuted.”

Jay Heck, executive director of Common Cause Wisconsin, remembers that moment well. Under former Republican Gov. Scott Walker, Republican legislative majorities passed the law eviscerating campaign finance limits along with other measures getting rid of the nonpartisan Government Accountability Board and eliminating the John Doe procedure that was used to criminally prosecute leaders of both political parties for campaign finance crimes in the infamous caucus scandal of the early 2000’s.

The 2015 law doubled the amount individuals could give to candidates. More importantly, it eliminated all limits on state party contributions to candidates and allowed coordination between candidates and outside groups that make issue ads supporting the campaigns. Donors were able to give as much as they wanted to political parties, which then funneled that money to candidates, creating the billionaire loophole to which Tiffany belatedly objects. The 2015 law cleared the way for outsiders like Elon Musk to pour limitless cash into state races to try to affect the outcome.

“The Republicans did that in 2015 because they were convinced that they would have a great financial advantage since they generally raised more money from donors and special interests,” says Heck. “Of course, what they didn’t anticipate was [former Wisconsin Democratic Party chair] Ben Wikler and the Democratic Party’s ability to take that big hole in the law and use it to raise massive amounts of money.”

Recently, Democrats in Wisconsin have been beating Republicans in the fundraising arms race. In 2025, in the most expensive judicial election in U.S. history, Susan Crawford, the candidate for the Wisconsin Supreme Court supported by the Democratic Party, raised $28.3 million compared with Republican-supported Brad Schimel, who raised $15.1 million. Outside special interests accounted for most of the spending on the race, with Musk alone putting in nearly $20 million through his political action committees and millions more laundered through the state Republican Party for Schimel, while the Democratic Party of Wisconsin funneled $10 million to Crawford.

The lesson of the 2015 law, says Heck, is, “be careful what you wish for.”

That certainly applies to Republicans, who lost the two most expensive state Supreme Court races in history as well as the last two record-breaking gubernatorial races won by Gov. Tony Evers with $93 million in total spending in 2018 and $164 million in 2022. 

But it also applies to Democrats, who cannot count on continually bringing in more money than Republicans.

More importantly, when it costs tens of millions of dollars to win state elections, regular voters’ voices are drowned out by billionaires, who are not investing in candidates just out of the goodness of their hearts.

Heck believes that change will only come when voters demand reform, most likely because a big scandal clearly illustrates that politicians are doing favors for their donors in exchange for campaign cash.

“It’s going to require a bipartisan coming-together to establish some limits,” Heck says. 

Even as the U.S. Supreme Court has opened the floodgate for campaign spending with the Citizens United decision, which in 2010 struck down a federal ban on political donations from corporations, and McCutcheon v. FEC, which in 2014 found that annual caps on total political donations from one person are unconstitutional, states have the ability to impose limits. 

A report by the National Conference of State Legislatures shows Wisconsin is one of only 11 states that allow unlimited candidate contributions by state parties and among the top 10 for the highest limits on PAC contributions to candidates. Minnesota, Michigan, Illinois and most other states limit how much political parties can accept, which reduces the Elon Musk effect. Plus, “We are one of few states that allows so-called coordination between political candidates and outside groups,” Heck says.

The problem is that candidates, while acknowledging that massive amounts of money fueling their campaigns is a bad look, don’t want to unilaterally disarm. 

But now, as the Trump administration drags the country to new levels of overt corruption, it could be a good time for a campaign that ties together billionaires’ destructive influence on society and the fact that they are buying our democracy. 

“There has to be public disgust with the amount of money being spent,” says Heck. “If a candidate put corruption front and center, it might get a lot of traction.”