ICE Cracks Down on Violent Criminal Aliens as Media Attacks Escalate

Paul Riverbank, 1/15/2026ICE’s recent arrests of criminal offenders spotlight tough enforcement, but also ignite fierce public debate—exposing the deep political and media divides that shape views on immigration and law enforcement in America.

There’s a story behind every headline. One in particular stands out: Eduardo Salgado-Martinez, convicted of raping two boys he was supposed to be watching in Washington State, managed for years to vanish from sight. His brother, disturbingly, was found guilty of similar offenses. As I reviewed the list, the pattern became clearer—Fermin Flores-Ramales, who faced a rape conviction in New York, and Khanh Tuan Pham, arrested in California after a homicide case, appeared alongside Salgado-Martinez. It’s a grim roll call, and Homeland Security officials have been vocal about what they see as the mission’s grim necessity. “Our ICE law enforcement put their lives on the line every single day,” said DHS Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin, “to arrest the worst of the worst criminal illegal aliens.”

Yet, while facts like the ones above can seem stark on their own, ICE finds itself at the center of a stormy—and often noisy—public debate that refuses to quiet down. The situation isn’t unique, although the level of suspicion and politicized fervor has grown notably sharper in recent years. After agents forcibly removed a woman from her car in Minneapolis (she claimed to be on the way to a medical appointment—a cell phone video captured the scene: officers, chaos, tear gas, pepper balls), reactions were swift. Protesters clashed openly with law enforcement, and within minutes, the story was circulating with its own momentum online.

It’s not just activists raising concerns. Former ABC News correspondent Terry Moran was quick on the draw with historical context, pointing out that President Barack Obama presided over the deportation of more than three million people—yet, as Moran put it, “No masked gangs descending on neighborhoods, snatching ordinary working people from their cars and disappearing them, storming homes without judicial warrants. This is just force, not law.” Moran’s words added fuel to an already hot debate. Meanwhile, Vice President JD Vance countered, emphasizing that many ICE arrestees are, in fact, individuals with serious criminal backgrounds. It’s the kind of back-and-forth that feels omnipresent in today’s political discourse—two sets of facts, each marshaled to make a point.

If you look back just a few years, the atmosphere wasn’t always charged to this degree. In 2016, for instance, CNN produced what amounted to an embedded exposé, riding along with ICE officers as they operated in Chicago and Cook County. The tone was measured, procedural: some arrests took place at work sites, and while ICE’s methods and the impact on communities were shown, there was little of the polarized rhetoric that’s since become routine. The coverage reflected routine law enforcement, not the specter of overreach.

But since the 2016 election, the lens has narrowed and sharpened. Media coverage tilted; stories focused less on the criminality of those arrested, and more heavily on controversial tactics. The term “gestapo” crept into the conversation, and ICE became, for some activists and commentators, synonymous with government excess. It’s fair to ask whether the reality on the ground changed as much as the tone of the conversation.

There’s no question that the power to enforce immigration law sits squarely with elected leaders, but the way the public interprets those policies hinges on the stories, pictures, and words in the news cycle. ICE claims roughly 70 percent of those arrested have U.S. criminal charges or convictions, a statistic often lost in the heat of argument. Yet the visual drama of street arrests, or the grainy videos of confrontations, often shapes perception far more than numbers do.

As political attitudes shift, so too does the public’s view of ICE’s mission. On one side, there’s genuine fear that necessary enforcement is sliding into government overreach, sometimes at the expense of civil liberties. On the other, an insistence that law enforcement is doing an undeniably unpleasant job—removing those who have committed crimes from American communities.

Both realities exist, and both contribute to the rawness of the debate. Perhaps the only thing that hasn’t changed is just how divisive immigration enforcement remains. With so much at stake—and with policy, politics, and emotions tangled together—it’s no wonder the issue continues to draw such intense scrutiny, year after year.

Federal immigration enforcement has again drawn national attention, but not only because of another wave of high-profile arrests. Over the past week, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents fanned out across several American cities, detaining five undocumented immigrants connected to a series of appalling crimes. The Department of Homeland Security underscored the seriousness of the operation, highlighting cases that included child rape, homicide, and arson.There’s a story behind every headline. One in particular stands out: Eduardo Salgado-Martinez, convicted of raping two boys he was supposed to be watching in Washington State, managed for years to vanish from sight. His brother, disturbingly, was found guilty of similar offenses. As I reviewed the list, the pattern became clearer—Fermin Flores-Ramales, who faced a rape conviction in New York, and Khanh Tuan Pham, arrested in California after a homicide case, appeared alongside Salgado-Martinez. It’s a grim roll call, and Homeland Security officials have been vocal about what they see as the mission’s grim necessity. “Our ICE law enforcement put their lives on the line every single day,” said DHS Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin, “to arrest the worst of the worst criminal illegal aliens.”Yet, while facts like the ones above can seem stark on their own, ICE finds itself at the center of a stormy—and often noisy—public debate that refuses to quiet down. The situation isn’t unique, although the level of suspicion and politicized fervor has grown notably sharper in recent years. After agents forcibly removed a woman from her car in Minneapolis (she claimed to be on the way to a medical appointment—a cell phone video captured the scene: officers, chaos, tear gas, pepper balls), reactions were swift. Protesters clashed openly with law enforcement, and within minutes, the story was circulating with its own momentum online.It’s not just activists raising concerns. Former ABC News correspondent Terry Moran was quick on the draw with historical context, pointing out that President Barack Obama presided over the deportation of more than three million people—yet, as Moran put it, “No masked gangs descending on neighborhoods, snatching ordinary working people from their cars and disappearing them, storming homes without judicial warrants. This is just force, not law.” Moran’s words added fuel to an already hot debate. Meanwhile, Vice President JD Vance countered, emphasizing that many ICE arrestees are, in fact, individuals with serious criminal backgrounds. It’s the kind of back-and-forth that feels omnipresent in today’s political discourse—two sets of facts, each marshaled to make a point.If you look back just a few years, the atmosphere wasn’t always charged to this degree. In 2016, for instance, CNN produced what amounted to an embedded exposé, riding along with ICE officers as they operated in Chicago and Cook County. The tone was measured, procedural: some arrests took place at work sites, and while ICE’s methods and the impact on communities were shown, there was little of the polarized rhetoric that’s since become routine. The coverage reflected routine law enforcement, not the specter of overreach.But since the 2016 election, the lens has narrowed and sharpened. Media coverage tilted; stories focused less on the criminality of those arrested, and more heavily on controversial tactics. The term “gestapo” crept into the conversation, and ICE became, for some activists and commentators, synonymous with government excess. It’s fair to ask whether the reality on the ground changed as much as the tone of the conversation.There’s no question that the power to enforce immigration law sits squarely with elected leaders, but the way the public interprets those policies hinges on the stories, pictures, and words in the news cycle. ICE claims roughly 70 percent of those arrested have U.S. criminal charges or convictions, a statistic often lost in the heat of argument. Yet the visual drama of street arrests, or the grainy videos of confrontations, often shapes perception far more than numbers do.As political attitudes shift, so too does the public’s view of ICE’s mission. On one side, there’s genuine fear that necessary enforcement is sliding into government overreach, sometimes at the expense of civil liberties. On the other, an insistence that law enforcement is doing an undeniably unpleasant job—removing those who have committed crimes from American communities.Both realities exist, and both contribute to the rawness of the debate. Perhaps the only thing that hasn’t changed is just how divisive immigration enforcement remains. With so much at stake—and with policy, politics, and emotions tangled together—it’s no wonder the issue continues to draw such intense scrutiny, year after year.