An Orange County city wanted to help families struggling amid ICE raids. Then, it got messy

Last summer, as reports mounted of federal immigration agents taking Costa Mesa residents off the streets, leading others to hole up in their homes, the City Council decided to do something. They voted 5-0 (two other council members were absent) to donate $100,000 in city funds to help families affected by the ICE raids with food and basic needs. They also asked city officials to look into allocating money for legal defense.

Many at the meeting, in the audience and behind the dais, felt good about the outcome: the advocates thought they finally had a solid source of funding for the relief effort, which was already underway through small donations and their own out-of-pocket costs, and council members felt they were providing tangible support for the city’s large immigrant population.

More than 1 in 5 Costa Mesa residents is foreign-born, according to Census data, and more than one-third of residents are Latino, who've born the brunt of President Donald Trump's mass deportation campaign.

The goodwill didn’t last long. The language used to earmark the funds was intentionally vague, meant to keep the small, politically divided city out of the crosshairs of the Trump administration and local MAGA activists. Before the smoke cleared, the relief measure would lead to a rift in the city’s tight-knit volunteer network, demands for accountability, and, among the would-be beneficiaries, a feeling of increasing abandonment by local government.

Here’s what happened.

It started with volunteers delivering food

When ICE raids intensified in Southern California, the streets of Costa Mesa’s largely Latino westside started emptying out. Tamale vendors stayed home. Kids on summer break stopped riding bikes around their neighborhoods.

“This has been the saddest summer of my life,” Councilmember Manuel Chavez said at a City Council meeting in August.

Chavez represents District 4, which is predominantly Latino.

“It is noticeably a lot quieter in my community and time and time again at community events I go to it’s very clear there’s a visible lack of our Latino brothers and sisters,” he added.

At the time, a group of volunteers had been busy organizing a mutual aid effort to deliver food boxes and other necessities to residents who either feared leaving their homes, or had lost a breadwinner to deportation. Adam Ereth, executive director of the Someone Cares Soup Kitchen, let the volunteers use the nonprofit’s facilities to pack the food boxes, and passed on some of the soup kitchen’s leftover food donations.

Ereth also offered up the nonprofit as a conduit through which individuals could donate money directly to the food box effort. Ereth kept track of the privately donated funds, which totaled around $14,000, he said, and used it to reimburse volunteers for purchasing tortillas, beans, meat and fresh produce for the boxes.

Like much of the local response to the surge in ICE raids, the mutual aid effort was scrappy. Which is why the organizers began to lobby City Council members — some of whom were part of the mutual aid group — for a more reliable source of funding.

“After a while I was like, you know, I can't spend $240 on chorizo twice a month. I need to get reimbursed,” said Haley Horton, one of the organizers.

At the Aug. 5 City Council meeting, Mayor John Stephens proposed that the city help fund the relief effort, along with legal defense for families facing deportation. Residents recounted the devastating impact the raids were having on the community.

“I was listening to the public speak about it,” Stephens later told LAist. “And I was thinking, you know, we could do more.”

Around the same time, local governments in L.A. County and other parts of Orange County, including Santa Ana and Anaheim, were setting up funds to help immigrant families with groceries, rent and legal defense against deportation. (The governor recently announced the state’s own $35 million investment in humanitarian aid and legal defense for immigrant residents; Irvine is also now funding immigration legal aid.)

Ultimately, Costa Mesa's City Council allocated funds to two local nonprofits to help affected families with food, rental assistance and other needs: $50,000 would go into a relief fund run by a local church; the other $50,000 would go to the Someone Cares Soup Kitchen “to provide daily meals and groceries to impacted residents,” according to a staff report at a subsequent council meeting.

There was no contract, and no requirement to account for how the money was spent, a city spokesperson confirmed.

Horton and the other volunteers working on the food box program were elated. Among them was Brooke Grey, who heads the local chapter of the group Food Not Bombs.

“ When the city approved that money, despite all the awfulness that's happening, it was a very joyous moment,” Grey said. “It's knowing that … we're in this together to help,” she said.

But the good vibes were short-lived.

A Costa Mesa volunteer preps food boxes for delivery for ICE-affected families.

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Jill Replogle

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LAist

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‘I didn’t want ICE going to the soup kitchen’

The Someone Cares Soup Kitchen started 40 years ago in Costa Mesa when its founder, Merle Hatleberg, literally made a pot of soup for hungry children. Today, the nonprofit provides a free hot lunch to around 300 people daily, including seniors, veterans, unhoused residents and anybody else who shows up — all served out of a former Chinese restaurant in central Costa Mesa.

The organization took in around $975,000 in donations and fundraising efforts in fiscal year 2024, according to its most recently available tax filing.

Debbee Pezman, Halteberg’s daughter, now chairs the soup kitchen’s board of directors. She said she was hesitant about accepting the city’s $50,000 donation when approached. She knew the mutual aid effort was already operating out of the kitchen. But it was under the radar, and she didn’t want the organization to be “in the spotlight,’” she recalled recently.

“I didn’t want ICE going to the soup kitchen,” Pezman said. Plus, she added, her board was wary of singling out a particular group for help.

“We support people in need, not only the immigrants in need,” Pezman said.

Still, in neighborhoods around the soup kitchen, ICE enforcement was having increasingly devastating consequences for the city’s immigrant residents. In October, a Costa Mesa resident named Gabriel Garcia Aviles died in a hospital in Victorville after being picked up in a raid and detained at the Adelanto detention center. As families sought to decrease the chance of being separated, some parents quit their jobs and stopped going outside, including to buy groceries and visit the doctor.

“It’s absolutely horrific,” Councilmember Andrea Marr said of the arrests and deportations. “We’re talking about families who have been involved in their communities, moms cooking for school events. These are not other people, this is very much the fabric of the community."

Increasing the economic squeeze, as of January, the state no longer allows adults without legal immigration status to enroll in Medi-Cal.

“All of the doors are closing,” said Juana Trejo, a long-time leader in Costa Mesa’s Latino community. “It’s like we’re imprisoned.”

As concern kept rising, the soup kitchen accepted the city funds — on the condition that the money not be earmarked for a specific purpose.

That’s when the rift began.

A debate over the council’s intent

Volunteers who’d been buying supplies and packing boxes for delivery said they assumed the $50,000 from the city would replenish dwindling private donations. 

Ereth, who’d opened the nonprofit’s doors as a staging center for the mutual aid effort, saw it differently. He turned down those requests.

Tensions grew between Ereth and the mutual aid organizers. At the end of 2025, Ereth closed down the delivery program.Horton, the volunteer who helped start the program, was livid.

“I had to go into a room, I had to cry, I had to scream,” she told LAist. Horton and other mutual aid leaders estimate that the city funds could have fed 200 families for two years.

The fundamental disagreement comes down to this:

Mutual aid volunteers said they believed the $50,000 was made available specifically, to deliver groceries to families directly affected by the immigration crackdown.

Ereth said there was no expectation that the money be used for that narrow purpose. “The city decided to solicit us to give us a gift based on the work we’ve been doing for the past 40-plus years,” he said of the soup kitchen’s long-standing role in Costa Mesa. “It happened to be during the time federal enforcement activity was taking place pretty forcefully.”

Councilmember Arlis Reynolds, who helped launch the food box effort, was dismayed by Ereth’s interpretation of why the city awarded immigrant relief funds to the soup kitchen.

“We were intentionally vague based on what I thought was a pretty clear understanding,” she told LAist.

Marr agreed. “I think (Ereth) took advantage of a loophole,” she said, adding “he should have known” what the money was intended for.

That vague language, however, also allowed Ereth to use the funds as he saw fit.

Reynolds conceded that “technically (Ereth) is correct that he got city funds with zero written restraints.” But, she added, “if I knew that he was going to change the model, I would not have voted to give the funds.”

How best to help?

Ereth defended his use of the city funding for the soup kitchen’s overall operations.

“We’re a longterm organization in the community,” Ereth said, “when times get tough, we’re looking to remain as an institution, rather than just addressing an acute need that pops up.”

Ereth said it was unsustainable to continue delivering food boxes to ICE-affected families because of the large number of people and resources required. He also noted that the soup kitchen had invested its own staff time and resources into the delivery effort, including electricity, gas and most of the donated food that went into the boxes.

Some City Council members agree with Ereth’s position, including Stephens, the mayor. He told LAist the city funding for the soup kitchen had “absolutely” gone to its intended use.

“The Someone Cares Soup Kitchen has been a part of the Costa Mesa community for decades — they serve lots of populations in need, including this group impacted by ICE activity,” Stephens said.

He and soup kitchen leaders say the dispute boils down to miscommunication, and a dispute over how best to help. Pezman, the board chair, said instead of delivering boxes, the soup kitchen is providing groceries for pick-up twice a month, to about 40 families.

“I’m sure there are people who are fearful and not coming out of their house,” Pezman said, “but there are also people who are coming out of their house.”

She said the nonprofit leaders never intended to cause friction. “I do feel like what the soup kitchen did was on board and correct and communicated all the way through to the city,” said Pezman. But, she added, “if the city said, ‘We would like you to return the funds,’ we’d just return the funds.”

Sheryl Long helps stack food boxes in the back of a minivan for delivery to ICE-impacted families.

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Jill Replogle

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LAist

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Calls for accountability, as mutual aid moves on

Today, many involved in the mutual aid effort in Costa Mesa would like to just move on from the incident. Others are demanding more accountability.

“In my mind, it’s a huge injustice,” said Trejo, the community leader. “We’re going to be a little more careful in the future about who we put our confidence in.”

Another activist, Grey from Food Not Bombs, has repeatedly asked the City Council to investigate how the money was spent.

“There’s no accountability,” she said. “It creates a distrust in the community.”

Meanwhile, Councilmember Reynolds has asked city officials to look into how families who were receiving boxes last year can access food paid for with the ICE relief funds. She told LAist she saw “no incremental benefit as intended” from the city’s donation to the soup kitchen. Rather, she said, Ereth’s decision to end the food delivery program “created a huge amount of confusion, frustration, and service gaps to families we intended to serve.”

When Ereth ended the food delivery program in December, the mutual aid leaders vowed to find another way to keep it going, but it was unclear how, without a reliable fiscal sponsor. They spent the next few months fundraising and looking for new partners.

Then, on Valentine’s Day, more than a dozen volunteers met at a warehouse in Costa Mesa to load beans, rice, chorizo, tomatoes, limes and more into cardboard boxes and IKEA bags. Other volunteers then pulled up into the alley to collect the boxes and distribute them to 150 needy families.

The goal is to increase the number of recipients to 200, which the organizers estimate will cost $4,000 per monthly delivery. Fundraising is ongoing.

“There's no way this can end,” Horton said. “There's too many people who care.”