ICE Defies Critics, Nabs ‘Worst of the Worst’ Criminal Aliens

Paul Riverbank, 1/15/2026ICE arrests violent offenders, sparking fierce debate over immigration policy, civil rights, and public safety.

Among the group was Eduardo Salgado-Martinez, a man whose past radiates infamy in the Pacific Northwest. For years, Salgado-Martinez eluded justice after being convicted of raping two young boys in Washington state—a fact that, when revisited in the press release, landed with the unmistakable gravity of a gavel. Elsewhere, Khanh Tuan Pham was picked up in California; authorities there say he was already found guilty of homicide and conspiracy. The remaining three cases, each bearing its own grim tapestry of violence and fire, add weight to the broader question: does aggressive immigration enforcement make America safer, or simply more anxious?

A statement from the Department of Homeland Security seemed geared for headlines. “What the media and sanctuary politicians do not want the American public to know is 70% of ICE arrests are of criminal illegal aliens charged or convicted of a crime in the US,” the department claimed with resolute certainty. There was urgency in their messaging, too; the implication, that ICE agents wade daily into dangerous, uncertain confrontations, was quickly reinforced by Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin. “Our ICE law enforcement put their lives on the line every single day to arrest the worst of the worst criminal illegal aliens,” she said, running through a familiar litany of peril and moral imperative.

Yet this is precisely the posture that draws ICE into controversy again and again. On his widely syndicated podcast, Joe Rogan—a figure who appears to revel in the crosswinds of American opinion—hardly held back: “You don’t want militarized people in the streets just roaming around, snatching people up—many of which actually turn out to be U.S. citizens that just don’t have their papers on them. Are we really gonna be the Gestapo, ‘Where’s your papers?’ Is that what we’ve come to?” The comparison, loaded as it is, sparked an uproar. Not for the first time, ICE’s reputation collided with memories of brutal regimes past.

Of course, the moment wasn’t just theoretical. Only days before, an ICE officer in Minneapolis shot Renee Good, a mother—an incident caught on camera and broadcast into living rooms nationwide. Rogan, reflecting afterward, was blunt: “To watch someone shoot a U.S. citizen—especially a woman—in the face... I’m not that guy. I don’t know what he thought,” he confessed, clearly shaken. However the details emerge, the image lingers: a federal agent, a mother, a gun, a body in the street.

Public sentiment, perhaps unsurprisingly given recent events, has begun to fracture along familiar lines. According to a recent YouGov/Economist poll, 46% of Americans now favor abolishing ICE altogether, while 43% want to keep it. The partisan lines are sharp: more than three-quarters of Democrats would ditch the agency, while about four out of five Republicans rally to its defense. Independents, meanwhile, are caught in the middle—leaning ever so slightly toward abolition, a detail that underscores just how unsettled these questions remain.

Sanctuary cities sit at the front lines of this broader fight. Take New York, or Minneapolis, or Oakland—places where local law enforcement says, in effect, “We’ll cooperate, but only so far.” Joe Borelli, a former New York City councilman, bristles at suggestions that ICE floods blue cities out of spite. “Because there’s compliance [from] local law enforcement. You don’t have to have massive, you know, packs of ICE agents doing the job of local law enforcement in non-sanctuary jurisdictions,” he argued recently on CNN. In other words: policy, not personal politics, drives the dynamic.

Not everyone agrees, of course. Sanctuary critics point to the Trump administration’s threats to slash federal funding to cities that shield immigrants from deportation, suggesting a pattern of political score-settling. Ana Navarro, a frequent commentator, laid it bare: “He has absolutely targeted blue states, particularly of people he didn’t like.” Borelli countered her before cameras could even cool, holding firmly to his point about policy.

The stakes, meanwhile, are hardly abstract—especially in Minnesota, where state officials have gone to court, trying to force ICE out altogether. They’ve labeled the presence of agents there an “invasion,” a provocative frame. And as local headlines have revealed multi-billion-dollar fraud scandals tied to Somali immigrant networks, the war of words has only sharpened.

For ICE’s defenders, the case is simple: public safety relies on vigorous enforcement and the rule of law. For detractors, it is equally clear: aggressive tactics put civil rights at risk and threaten bystanders who happen to land in the agency’s path. As so often happens in American politics, the facts are stubbornly complicated—even as the tempo of crisis and response continues to quicken, leaving a polarized nation to sort out what sort of safety it truly wants.

Federal immigration agents crisscrossed the country Tuesday, closing in on five people whose names most Americans will never know, but whose cases now sit at the heart of a polarizing debate over immigration enforcement. The Department of Homeland Security described them starkly: some of the most dangerous illegal immigrants in the nation, picked up on charges that would chill any readership—child rape, homicide, arson, burglary. Hardly routine crimes, yet their very arrests highlight a stubbornly recurring divide on what Americans want from federal immigration policy.Among the group was Eduardo Salgado-Martinez, a man whose past radiates infamy in the Pacific Northwest. For years, Salgado-Martinez eluded justice after being convicted of raping two young boys in Washington state—a fact that, when revisited in the press release, landed with the unmistakable gravity of a gavel. Elsewhere, Khanh Tuan Pham was picked up in California; authorities there say he was already found guilty of homicide and conspiracy. The remaining three cases, each bearing its own grim tapestry of violence and fire, add weight to the broader question: does aggressive immigration enforcement make America safer, or simply more anxious?A statement from the Department of Homeland Security seemed geared for headlines. “What the media and sanctuary politicians do not want the American public to know is 70% of ICE arrests are of criminal illegal aliens charged or convicted of a crime in the US,” the department claimed with resolute certainty. There was urgency in their messaging, too; the implication, that ICE agents wade daily into dangerous, uncertain confrontations, was quickly reinforced by Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin. “Our ICE law enforcement put their lives on the line every single day to arrest the worst of the worst criminal illegal aliens,” she said, running through a familiar litany of peril and moral imperative.Yet this is precisely the posture that draws ICE into controversy again and again. On his widely syndicated podcast, Joe Rogan—a figure who appears to revel in the crosswinds of American opinion—hardly held back: “You don’t want militarized people in the streets just roaming around, snatching people up—many of which actually turn out to be U.S. citizens that just don’t have their papers on them. Are we really gonna be the Gestapo, ‘Where’s your papers?’ Is that what we’ve come to?” The comparison, loaded as it is, sparked an uproar. Not for the first time, ICE’s reputation collided with memories of brutal regimes past.Of course, the moment wasn’t just theoretical. Only days before, an ICE officer in Minneapolis shot Renee Good, a mother—an incident caught on camera and broadcast into living rooms nationwide. Rogan, reflecting afterward, was blunt: “To watch someone shoot a U.S. citizen—especially a woman—in the face... I’m not that guy. I don’t know what he thought,” he confessed, clearly shaken. However the details emerge, the image lingers: a federal agent, a mother, a gun, a body in the street.Public sentiment, perhaps unsurprisingly given recent events, has begun to fracture along familiar lines. According to a recent YouGov/Economist poll, 46% of Americans now favor abolishing ICE altogether, while 43% want to keep it. The partisan lines are sharp: more than three-quarters of Democrats would ditch the agency, while about four out of five Republicans rally to its defense. Independents, meanwhile, are caught in the middle—leaning ever so slightly toward abolition, a detail that underscores just how unsettled these questions remain.Sanctuary cities sit at the front lines of this broader fight. Take New York, or Minneapolis, or Oakland—places where local law enforcement says, in effect, “We’ll cooperate, but only so far.” Joe Borelli, a former New York City councilman, bristles at suggestions that ICE floods blue cities out of spite. “Because there’s compliance [from] local law enforcement. You don’t have to have massive, you know, packs of ICE agents doing the job of local law enforcement in non-sanctuary jurisdictions,” he argued recently on CNN. In other words: policy, not personal politics, drives the dynamic.Not everyone agrees, of course. Sanctuary critics point to the Trump administration’s threats to slash federal funding to cities that shield immigrants from deportation, suggesting a pattern of political score-settling. Ana Navarro, a frequent commentator, laid it bare: “He has absolutely targeted blue states, particularly of people he didn’t like.” Borelli countered her before cameras could even cool, holding firmly to his point about policy.The stakes, meanwhile, are hardly abstract—especially in Minnesota, where state officials have gone to court, trying to force ICE out altogether. They’ve labeled the presence of agents there an “invasion,” a provocative frame. And as local headlines have revealed multi-billion-dollar fraud scandals tied to Somali immigrant networks, the war of words has only sharpened.For ICE’s defenders, the case is simple: public safety relies on vigorous enforcement and the rule of law. For detractors, it is equally clear: aggressive tactics put civil rights at risk and threaten bystanders who happen to land in the agency’s path. As so often happens in American politics, the facts are stubbornly complicated—even as the tempo of crisis and response continues to quicken, leaving a polarized nation to sort out what sort of safety it truly wants.