Media Hides Truth as Biden’s Policies Fuel Chaos, Endanger Americans

Paul Riverbank, 11/18/2025Explore immigration, crime, and media bias fueling public anxiety and demanding justice system reform.

Consider Roman Surovtsev. For years, he lived in the U.S., caught in bureaucratic limbo. When CNN profiled him, their focus landed on his uphill battle as a ‘loving dad’ and ‘stateless person,’ his softer edges generously foregrounded. What readers wouldn’t know until well into the story—but what law enforcement already had on file—was Surovtsev’s lengthy criminal record, beginning with an armed carjacking as a teenager. That incident alone netted him over a decade behind bars, but authorities say there’s more: multiple burglaries, more carjackings, violent assault with weapons, vehicle theft, and even drug-related charges. These aren’t minor scrapes. They’re the accumulated record of years spent on the wrong side of the law.

Federal officials have grown blunt about such cases. “Criminal illegal aliens are not welcome in the U.S.,” said the Department of Homeland Security, wasting no words. In Surovtsev’s case, years of regular ICE check-ins gave way, more than a decade after his initial removal order, to his arrest and a fast track toward deportation. His lawyers argue that Ukraine—his apparent destination—would endanger him, noting the real risks of violence and conscription. American authorities, meanwhile, view his story through a different lens: responsibility to keep communities safe trumps individual circumstances, especially after so many second chances.

This issue isn’t isolated on the coasts or in major metro areas. Hundreds of miles south, the Texas suburbs have seen their own showdowns. In March, a woman out for her regular jog in Plano was ambushed in broad daylight, struck with a hammer. She survived because she fought back, but the experience left physical and psychological scars. Local police later arrested Sergio Noe de Nova Duarte, a 17-year-old in the country illegally, who already had a string of arrests for burglary and theft. Released after prior incidents, he was given a future court date—years in the future—under current federal release policies. Homeland Security, responding with frustration, was clear: someone with such a record shouldn’t have been free to strike again.

“These are tragedies that simply don’t have to happen,” Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin said, referencing the swift ICE response post-attack and the policy change that followed. She emphasized the broader cost: not just the individual victims, but public confidence in law enforcement and immigration systems.

Layer onto this the latest, stranger twist: criminals posing as ICE agents, badges and all. The FBI recently warned that these “agents”—really, well-organized fraudsters—have been extorting, robbing, even kidnapping people by exploiting the confusion and fear swirling around law enforcement right now. Communities already on edge now face a new question: How do you know who to trust? Former FBI Special Agent Jason Pack offered simple advice but didn’t sugarcoat the threat. “They are slicker than a boiled onion and about as trustworthy as a snake oil salesman,” he said, a touch of world-weary cynicism in his voice.

All these threads—high-profile deportation fights, violent attacks by repeat offenders, imposters in fake uniforms—are stirring anxiety at nearly every level. For ordinary Americans, there’s confusion: why does it seem so hard to remove those who repeatedly break the law? There’s indignation, too, at how media can, sometimes, bury the lead or lean too heavily on emotional angles, especially when lives and safety are on the line.

Public safety, ultimately, is what voters across the spectrum appear to want, even as lawmakers argue over what true reform should look like. The broad message emerging from federal authorities is direct: respond quickly, act firmly, and restore trust. When the system drags or fails to disclose vital details, it’s the people living in these communities who pay the price—not just in abstract statistics, but in very real, personal costs.

As these cases remind us, honest reporting, transparent action, and consistent enforcement aren’t just technical goals—they’re the bedrock of public trust. America’s confidence in its justice system hinges on what happens in these messy, sometimes tragic, always complicated intersections of law, politics, and lives in motion.

It’s a storyline that’s quietly brewing beneath the headline numbers and legally dense debates: How the United States handles criminal cases involving non-citizens is becoming a flashpoint, revealing cracks not only in policy but in the way we tell these stories.Consider Roman Surovtsev. For years, he lived in the U.S., caught in bureaucratic limbo. When CNN profiled him, their focus landed on his uphill battle as a ‘loving dad’ and ‘stateless person,’ his softer edges generously foregrounded. What readers wouldn’t know until well into the story—but what law enforcement already had on file—was Surovtsev’s lengthy criminal record, beginning with an armed carjacking as a teenager. That incident alone netted him over a decade behind bars, but authorities say there’s more: multiple burglaries, more carjackings, violent assault with weapons, vehicle theft, and even drug-related charges. These aren’t minor scrapes. They’re the accumulated record of years spent on the wrong side of the law.Federal officials have grown blunt about such cases. “Criminal illegal aliens are not welcome in the U.S.,” said the Department of Homeland Security, wasting no words. In Surovtsev’s case, years of regular ICE check-ins gave way, more than a decade after his initial removal order, to his arrest and a fast track toward deportation. His lawyers argue that Ukraine—his apparent destination—would endanger him, noting the real risks of violence and conscription. American authorities, meanwhile, view his story through a different lens: responsibility to keep communities safe trumps individual circumstances, especially after so many second chances.This issue isn’t isolated on the coasts or in major metro areas. Hundreds of miles south, the Texas suburbs have seen their own showdowns. In March, a woman out for her regular jog in Plano was ambushed in broad daylight, struck with a hammer. She survived because she fought back, but the experience left physical and psychological scars. Local police later arrested Sergio Noe de Nova Duarte, a 17-year-old in the country illegally, who already had a string of arrests for burglary and theft. Released after prior incidents, he was given a future court date—years in the future—under current federal release policies. Homeland Security, responding with frustration, was clear: someone with such a record shouldn’t have been free to strike again.“These are tragedies that simply don’t have to happen,” Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin said, referencing the swift ICE response post-attack and the policy change that followed. She emphasized the broader cost: not just the individual victims, but public confidence in law enforcement and immigration systems.Layer onto this the latest, stranger twist: criminals posing as ICE agents, badges and all. The FBI recently warned that these “agents”—really, well-organized fraudsters—have been extorting, robbing, even kidnapping people by exploiting the confusion and fear swirling around law enforcement right now. Communities already on edge now face a new question: How do you know who to trust? Former FBI Special Agent Jason Pack offered simple advice but didn’t sugarcoat the threat. “They are slicker than a boiled onion and about as trustworthy as a snake oil salesman,” he said, a touch of world-weary cynicism in his voice.All these threads—high-profile deportation fights, violent attacks by repeat offenders, imposters in fake uniforms—are stirring anxiety at nearly every level. For ordinary Americans, there’s confusion: why does it seem so hard to remove those who repeatedly break the law? There’s indignation, too, at how media can, sometimes, bury the lead or lean too heavily on emotional angles, especially when lives and safety are on the line.Public safety, ultimately, is what voters across the spectrum appear to want, even as lawmakers argue over what true reform should look like. The broad message emerging from federal authorities is direct: respond quickly, act firmly, and restore trust. When the system drags or fails to disclose vital details, it’s the people living in these communities who pay the price—not just in abstract statistics, but in very real, personal costs.As these cases remind us, honest reporting, transparent action, and consistent enforcement aren’t just technical goals—they’re the bedrock of public trust. America’s confidence in its justice system hinges on what happens in these messy, sometimes tragic, always complicated intersections of law, politics, and lives in motion.