Why violence during immigration stops hasn't shaken an LA man's resolve to protect his neighbors

On a tranquil morning in January, Victor Correa had a vision for the day: Breakfast burritos from La Azteca Tortillería, and, later, a wedding he’d attend with his wife and their 2-year-old daughter.

The sky was bright blue when he set out for breakfast from his home in the city of Downey.

But Correa didn’t get far — just down the block, he witnessed a scene that’s played out more and more across the country this past year: masked men hopping out of unmarked cars to haul away Latino workers.

Correa grabbed his phone and started recording from his car. In videos he shared with LAist, men with dark sunglasses — one with a Border Patrol uniform and one in plainclothes — questioned two gardeners while other masked men stood watch from black SUVs nearby.

One of the men pointed what appeared to be a pepper gun at Correa and commanded him to move his car.

Just three days before, Correa knew, an ICE agent in Minneapolis shot and killed Renee Good, a legal observer and mother of three, in her car.

“Don’t fuckin’ shoot me!” he shouted at the federal agent. “I’m not fuckin’ doin’ nothin’!”

Correa honked and hurried to park. “ICE! ICE is here!” he yelled. By the time he made it back to the scene, one of the gardeners had already been taken inside a black Chevy Tahoe.

With urgency in his voice, Correa asked the remaining worker for his name in Spanish.

“José Solorio,” the man managed to say as an agent grappled him.

Soon, other neighbors emerged. They too began to record. One called out for a number to contact Solorio’s family: “¡Número de teléfono, jefe! ¡Número de teléfono!”

A woman in a floral bathrobe walked up and began scolding the agents. Amid the fray, the gardener inside the SUV appeared to let himself out. Then, the agents drove off.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Correa shouted after them.

Footage from one of the videos captured by Victor Correa on Jan. 10, 2026.

(

Courtesy

/

Victor Correa

)

Correa had been watching videos of immigration raids on social media for months, with a combined sense of fury and heartbreak. He’d also read up on how to be an effective bystander and what his rights are when filming federal agents in public spaces.

“I told myself that if I ever saw something like that, that I would be ready,” he told LAist. “And so, when my moment came, I was ready. And I let out all my rage.”

“I apologize to all the abuelas out there for all the cursing,” he said.

'What I hope everybody would do'

After the agents left, Correa said, he, the gardeners and neighbors unwound. According to Correa, the man who exited the SUV after being detained talked about trying to show proof that he’s in the U.S. legally to one of the agents, “but they wouldn’t listen."

The man also tried to show it to Correa, who shook his head and waved him away, he said.

“You don't have to show me anything," Correa recalled saying.

He said he "just did what I hope everybody would do."

Born and raised in Downey, Victor Correa created a community watch program after witnessing an attempted immigration raid on his block.

(

Carlin Stiehl

/

LAist

)

The experience left Correa wanting to do more to protect his community from further raids. He teamed up with City Councilman Mario Trujillo to found Downey ICE Watch. For their first meeting in January, they invited Unión del Barrio, an organization with decades of experience in community patrol, to teach attendees how to spot immigration agents. The group also distributed whistles, a tool that’s become symbolic of community resistance to federal immigration agents. That Tuesday night, Correa said proudly, over 100 people showed up.

Keeping bystanders safe — or as safe as possible — was and continues to be top of mind, he added. Days before Downey ICE Watch’s first meeting, federal agents shot and killed another bystander, Alex Pretti, in Minneapolis.

Looking back on his encounter with federal agents, Correa said that, in hindsight, he would strive to be “a little less aggressive.”

“I would still go out there and record and blow whistles,” he added, “but I would not [get] as close, because I have a family, I have a daughter. And these guys seem to be getting away with murder.”

Meeting neighbors, forming community

In February, Correa held a second meeting for his group at Downey Christian Memorial Church. Last summer, when the Trump administration began its militarized deportation effort in Southern California, armed agents detained a man in the church’s parking lot. When faith leaders asked the agents to identify themselves, they said one of the officers pointed a gun at its senior pastor, Rev. Tanya Lopez.

As local residents entered the church’s multipurpose room for the Downey ICE Watch meeting, Correa and other organizers had them sit with people who live in their part of the city. Correa said this would help locals mingle with their neighbors, creating a sense of camaraderie that’s essential to community patrol work.

About 50 people attended. The multi-ethnic audience listened closely as Rev. Lopez encouraged them to join her interfaith immigration court observer program. Immigration attorneys talked about cases they’re working on, about the families they’re fighting to keep from being separated.

Local attorney Alfonso Morales thought it important to talk about cases where he’s been successful, including the release of two men who were detained during a warrantless raid at a car wash in San Dimas.

He also offered guidance for bystanders who film federal agents in public spaces.

“Don't interfere,” he told them. “You're there to record and document.”

Morales encouraged them to describe what they witness: “Narrate. Talk about the place, the time, how many officers, how many vehicles, the license plate — all of that is public information.”

“Make sure people know where you are,” he added. “And keep a full copy of the video.”

Morales acknowledged that this type of work can take a toll on one’s mental health.

“I now have a therapist,” he shared. “Seeing people taken on a daily basis, when you know the law, and you know the law should be on your side—it’s painful.”

Still, federal immigration agents “need to know people are watching,” Morales said. “And that history will not forget.”

Correa wrapped up the February meeting with a presentation from other community groups, BarrioPower and Siempre Unidos LA.

Rosa Vazquez, who co-founded BarrioPower last summer, stressed that, if local residents do not feel comfortable participating in community patrols, they can still help their neighbors. Community members, for instance, can deliver groceries to those who are too scared to leave their homes, or volunteer to drive their neighbors’ children to school.

“When the world feels like it's crumbling around us every single day,” she said, “the only way to overcome the despair that is natural for us to feel is to take action.”