For 25 years, Emma De Paz rose at 2 a.m. to prepare hearty meals like soup, roasted chicken, and tamales, selling them to work crews gathering their supplies at the local Home Depot. Alongside her, other immigrant vendors formed a makeshift community, creating a refuge for Latino immigrants in the Hollywood area. Among these vendors was Abelino Perez Alvarez, who sold orange juice, soda, and water to the day laborers who scrolled through their phones, anxiously waiting for opportunities. However, on Thursday morning around 7:30 a.m., this community was abruptly shaken when dozens of armed agents, many masked, surged into the parking lot, blocking exits and surrounding the area.
“Migración! Migración!” echoed through the lot as panic ensued. People scattered, jumping into cars, sprinting down streets, and hiding behind bags of soil in the gardening section of Home Depot. “They came in on all sides,” recounted Domingo Rueda Hernandez, who, despite being a legal resident, found himself hiding alongside others. “Agarraron los indios,” he said, referring to the agents taking individuals of darker skin tones. The immigration raids in Los Angeles over the past two weeks have drawn significant attention, highlighting not just the protests and violence but the profound personal trauma inflicted on those caught in the crossfire, tearing families apart and leaving many without means to support their children.
On this particular Thursday in Hollywood, the Home Depot served as a lifeline for many working-class immigrants across the nation, now targeted by the administration. Witnesses reported that more than a dozen vendors, day laborers, and customers—including a U.S. citizen—were apprehended during the operation. In a statement later that day, Homeland Security Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin confirmed that Customs and Border Protection had arrested 30 individuals in Hollywood, along with others in nearby areas.
Witnesses described a scene of chaos as agents fanned out through the parking lot, making quick arrests before leaving the scene in about half an hour. There were unconfirmed reports of agents breaking car windows to apprehend individuals. “Here, we are a united community, all the workers that come to this corner,” said Carlos Barrera De Paz, whose sister was among those taken. “They took us and they took our community.” As family members gathered in tears, the once-busy stands selling tamales, juice, and coffee lay abandoned, littered with cracked eggshells and discarded orange peels.
Aware that Home Depots have become prime targets for immigration raids, Silvia Menendez arrived early to distribute “know your rights” cards. When the agents arrived, she began filming the chaos, witnessing agents tackle individuals to the ground as they pulled those arrested into waiting vans. One agent even confronted her, demanding she step back. Another shouted for people to let the agents work, illustrating the tense atmosphere that enveloped the scene.
Dr. Job Garcia, a doctoral student at Claremont College, found himself caught in the raid while picking up an order. He texted his brother, “Hey Elias, me agarro ICE” (Hey Elias, ICE got me). Since then, his brother has struggled to find out why he was arrested and sent to a federal detention center. “Is it racial profiling, or was he just trying to help a fellow undocumented person?” Elias wondered.
Among those affected was Veronica Perez, who wept on the sidewalk outside Home Depot, where her father, Abelino Perez Alvarez, had sold orange juice for seven years. Her mother, also working in the area, ran into the street upon hearing the shouts of “Migración!” A passing driver stopped to help, and while Veronica's mother escaped, her father was taken by the agents. The family, who had been applying for a U visa after her mother became a victim of a violent crime, now faced uncertainty and fear.
As the community continued to grapple with the aftermath of the raid, Maegan Ortiz, executive director of the nonprofit Instituto de Educación Popular del Sur de California (IDEPSCA), comforted those affected. She diligently collected names of the detained, promising to assist in their search. Amidst the chaos, Emma De Paz was also reported missing, heightening the anxiety of her family, particularly her brother, who feared for her well-being due to her medical conditions.
As the dust settled on the once-bustling parking lot, outrage grew within the community. Local leaders, including Hugo Soto-Martinez, expressed their disgust over the raids, comparing them to actions taken in military dictatorships. Organizers began mobilizing to provide legal support for those detained, advocating for peaceful protests as a means of resistance. “Nonviolent, direct action broke Jim Crow. It brought down apartheid,” Soto-Martinez reminded supporters, emphasizing the importance of a united front against such systemic oppression.
Federal officials maintained that their focus was on apprehending criminals, with Border Patrol Chief Greg Bovino emphasizing the challenges of urban enforcement. However, the community remained skeptical, questioning the motivations behind the raids as many of those detained were simply working to support their families.
As the situation unfolded, it became clear that the individuals targeted were the very backbone of the community—the ones who build and sustain the economy. Edwin Guevara, a construction crew leader, highlighted the essential role immigrants play in the fabric of society. With the community facing such a grave situation, calls for solidarity and support echoed louder than ever. The events at Home Depot serve as a stark reminder of the ongoing struggles faced by immigrant communities and the urgent need for collective action against injustices.
