Colorado Judge Handcuffs ICE — Trump Admin Slams ‘Activist’ Ruling

Paul Riverbank, 11/27/2025Colorado judge curbs ICE tactics, sparking legal battle and intensifying national immigration enforcement debate.

The case that sparked this confrontation involves four individuals—none with criminal backgrounds, all with ties that extend deep into their Colorado communities. Among them is Caroline Dias Goncalves, a 19-year-old student whose story reads like a script of unfortunate timing: Pulled over for a minor traffic issue, she was released by the officer only to be quickly handed over to ICE moments later. It’s details like these that have left legal observers, and the judge himself, questioning how discretion is being applied.

Federal Judge R. Brooke Jackson minced no words in his decision, pointing out that none of the four showed signs of being a flight risk. “No reasonable officer could have reasonably concluded that these plaintiffs were likely to flee before a warrant could be obtained,” he wrote, underscoring that ICE agents had either misread or opted to sidestep established guidelines about who should be detained on suspicion of running. The fact that these individuals had stable jobs, children, and a visible presence in their towns seemed, in the judge’s eyes, to have been ignored.

Though the plaintiffs secured a partial victory when the court ordered ICE to reimburse them for costs related to their detention, advocates had hoped for something broader—a look inside ICE’s playbook by forcing the agency to hand over its training manuals. On that front, Jackson declined to go further.

Back in Washington, the ruling was met with immediate pushback. Tricia McLaughlin, a Department of Homeland Security official, labeled the decision activist and dangerous. She cast the ruling as a direct shot at the Trump administration’s campaign to expel what it calls the “worst of the worst”—a phrase she repeated more than once, underscoring the divergent views about who is being targeted. McLaughlin insisted the agency does not engage in racial profiling, calling such allegations “disgusting, reckless, and categorically FALSE.” According to her, the only factor at play during enforcement is a person’s legal status, nothing more.

The government will appeal, McLaughlin made clear, with a tone that suggested the battle lines are just getting drawn.

The ruling comes as ICE faces not only courtroom scrutiny but also rising hostility on the ground. In Virginia this week, authorities arrested two brothers—one a high school principal—on suspicion of plotting violent attacks against ICE personnel. The details are chilling: the allegations involve shopping for rifles, discussing explosive ammunition, and planning with others who allegedly shared the same intent. “It’s chilling that a human being, much less a child educator, would plot to ambush and kill ICE law enforcement officers,” McLaughlin remarked, capturing the alarm echoed in law enforcement circles.

Data from federal agencies supports the sense of mounting tension. So far this year, there have been 238 assaults against ICE agents—ranging from rocks to gunfire, even Molotov cocktails—numbers already higher than last year’s total.

As the country stares down another bruising debate over immigration enforcement, the Colorado court’s order has tilted the scales, if only slightly, towards those demanding tighter limits and greater oversight. For critics of ICE, these events point to a persistent need to hold the agency to legal standards, not just political ones. For hardliners, stories of violence and courtroom obstacles feed fears that the work of protecting borders may be undermined.

What’s clear is that the struggle over how, and by whom, immigration laws are enforced is as contentious as it’s ever been on American soil—mirrored in courtrooms, city halls, and, increasingly, the headlines themselves.

A federal judge’s ruling this week in Colorado has thrown a spotlight onto the methods Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers use when detaining individuals without warrants—a flashpoint that’s already ignited fierce exchanges in and out of the courtroom.The case that sparked this confrontation involves four individuals—none with criminal backgrounds, all with ties that extend deep into their Colorado communities. Among them is Caroline Dias Goncalves, a 19-year-old student whose story reads like a script of unfortunate timing: Pulled over for a minor traffic issue, she was released by the officer only to be quickly handed over to ICE moments later. It’s details like these that have left legal observers, and the judge himself, questioning how discretion is being applied.Federal Judge R. Brooke Jackson minced no words in his decision, pointing out that none of the four showed signs of being a flight risk. “No reasonable officer could have reasonably concluded that these plaintiffs were likely to flee before a warrant could be obtained,” he wrote, underscoring that ICE agents had either misread or opted to sidestep established guidelines about who should be detained on suspicion of running. The fact that these individuals had stable jobs, children, and a visible presence in their towns seemed, in the judge’s eyes, to have been ignored.Though the plaintiffs secured a partial victory when the court ordered ICE to reimburse them for costs related to their detention, advocates had hoped for something broader—a look inside ICE’s playbook by forcing the agency to hand over its training manuals. On that front, Jackson declined to go further.Back in Washington, the ruling was met with immediate pushback. Tricia McLaughlin, a Department of Homeland Security official, labeled the decision activist and dangerous. She cast the ruling as a direct shot at the Trump administration’s campaign to expel what it calls the “worst of the worst”—a phrase she repeated more than once, underscoring the divergent views about who is being targeted. McLaughlin insisted the agency does not engage in racial profiling, calling such allegations “disgusting, reckless, and categorically FALSE.” According to her, the only factor at play during enforcement is a person’s legal status, nothing more.The government will appeal, McLaughlin made clear, with a tone that suggested the battle lines are just getting drawn.The ruling comes as ICE faces not only courtroom scrutiny but also rising hostility on the ground. In Virginia this week, authorities arrested two brothers—one a high school principal—on suspicion of plotting violent attacks against ICE personnel. The details are chilling: the allegations involve shopping for rifles, discussing explosive ammunition, and planning with others who allegedly shared the same intent. “It’s chilling that a human being, much less a child educator, would plot to ambush and kill ICE law enforcement officers,” McLaughlin remarked, capturing the alarm echoed in law enforcement circles.Data from federal agencies supports the sense of mounting tension. So far this year, there have been 238 assaults against ICE agents—ranging from rocks to gunfire, even Molotov cocktails—numbers already higher than last year’s total.As the country stares down another bruising debate over immigration enforcement, the Colorado court’s order has tilted the scales, if only slightly, towards those demanding tighter limits and greater oversight. For critics of ICE, these events point to a persistent need to hold the agency to legal standards, not just political ones. For hardliners, stories of violence and courtroom obstacles feed fears that the work of protecting borders may be undermined.What’s clear is that the struggle over how, and by whom, immigration laws are enforced is as contentious as it’s ever been on American soil—mirrored in courtrooms, city halls, and, increasingly, the headlines themselves.