legal status

When I wrote last week about how immigration raids are targeting far more laborers than criminals, and whacking the California economy at a cost to all of us, I was surprised by the number of readers who wrote to say it’s high time for immigration reform.

The cynic in me had an immediate response, which essentially was, yeah, sure.

Bipartisan attempts failed in 2006 and 2014, so there’s a fat chance of getting anywhere in this political climate.

But the more I thought about it, nobody has done more to make clear how badly we need to rewrite federal immigration law than guess who.

President Trump.

Raids, the threat of more raids, and the promise to deport 3,000 people a day, are sabotaging Trump’s economic agenda and eroding his support among Latinos. Restaurants have suffered, construction has slowed and fruit has rotted on vines as the promised crackdown on violent offenders — which would have had much more public support — instead turned into a heartless, destructive and costly eradication.

I wouldn’t bet a nickel on Trump or his congressional lackeys to publicly admit to any of that. But there have been signs that the emperor is beginning to soften hard-line positions on deportations of working immigrants and student visas, sending his MAGA posse into convulsions.

“His heart isn’t in the nativist purge the way the rest of his administration’s heart is into it,” the Cato Institute’s director of immigration studies, David J. Bier, told the New York Times. Despite the tough talk, Bier said, Trump has “always had a soft spot for the economic needs from a business perspective.”

So too, apparently, do some California GOP legislators.

In June, six Republican lawmakers led by state Sen. Suzette Martinez Valladares (R-Santa Clarita) sent Trump a letter urging him to ease up on the raids and get to work on immigration reform.

“Focus deportations on criminals,” Martinez Valladares wrote, “and support legal immigration and visa policies that will build a strong economy, secure our borders and protect our communities.”

Then in July, a bipartisan group of California lawmakers led by State Sen. Rosilicie Ochoa Bogh (R-Yucaipa), followed suit.

Ochoa Bogh urged “immediate federal action … to issue expedited work permits to the millions of undocumented immigrants who are considered essential workers, such as farmworkers who provide critical services. These workers support many industries that keep our country afloat and, regardless of immigration status, we must not overlook the value of their economic, academic, and cultural contributions to the United States.”

State Sen. Suzette Martinez Valladares (R-Santa Clarita) sent President Trump a letter urging him to ease up on raids and focus on immigration reform.

(Rich Pedroncelli / Associated Press)

Ochoa Bogh told me she heard from constituents in agriculture and hospitality who complained about the impact of raids. She said her aunt, a citizen, “is afraid to go out and carries a passport with her now because she’s afraid they might stop her.”

The senator said she blames both Democrats and Republicans for the failure to deliver sensible immigration reform over the years, and she told me her own family experience guides her thinking on what could be a way forward.

Her grandfather was a Mexican guest worker in the Bracero Program of the 1940s, ‘50s and ‘60s, ended up being sponsored for legal status, and eventually moved his entire family north. Since then, children and grandchildren have gone to school, worked, prospered and contributed.

If Trump were to respond to her letter and visit her district, Ochoa Bogh said, “I would absolutely have him visit my family.”

Her relatives include restaurateurs, the owners of a tailoring business, a county employee and a priest.

“We don’t want undocumented people in our country. … But we need a work permit process” that serves the needs of employers and workers, Ochoa Bogh said.

Public opinion polls reflect similar attitudes. Views are mixed, largely along party lines, but a Pew study in June found 42% approval and 47% disapproval of Trump’s overall approach on immigration.

A July Gallup poll found increasing support for immigration in general, with 85% in favor of a pathway to citizenship for immigrants brought to the U.S. as minors, and 60% support among Republicans for legal status of all undocumented people if certain requirements are met.

State Sen. Rosilicie Ochoa Bogh, shown with Senate Republican Leader Scott Wilk in 2022, says constituents in agriculture and hospitality have complained about the impact of raids.

(Rich Pedroncelli / Associated Press)

So it’s not entirely surprising that a bipartisan congressional immigration reform bill, the Dignity Act of 2025, was introduced in July by a Florida Republican and a Texas Democrat. It would allow legal status for those who have lived in the U.S. for five years, are working and paying taxes, and have no criminal record.

Victor Narro, project director at the UCLA Labor Center, isn’t optimistic, given political realities. But he’s been advocating for immigration reform for decades and said “we need to continue the fight because there will be a time of reckoning” in which the U.S. will “have to rely on immigrant workers to assure economic survival.”

“Germany had to resort to guest worker programs when birth rates declined,” said Kevin Johnson, a former UC Davis law school dean. “We may be begging for workers from other nations in the not too distant future.”

“No side wants to give the other a victory, but there have got to be ways to close that gap,” said Hiroshi Motomura, a UCLA immigration scholar whose new book, “Borders and Belonging: Toward A Fair Immigration Policy,” examines the history and causes of immigration, as well as the complexities of arguments for and against.

“Practically and politically, there’s potential” for reform, Motomura said, and he sees a better chance for rational conversations at the local level than in the heat of national debate. “You’re more likely to hear stories of mixed families … and that kind of thing humanizes the situation instead of turning it into a lot of abstract statistics.”

Ochoa Bogh told me that when she wrote her letter to Trump, the feedback from constituents included both support and criticism. She said she met with her critics, who told her she should be focused on jobs for citizens rather than for undocumented immigrants.

She said she told them she is all for “American people doing American jobs.” But “we have a workforce shortage in the state in various industries,” and a U.S.-born population that is not stepping up to do certain kinds of work.

“I said to them, ‘You can’t keep your eyes closed and say this is what it should be, when there are certain realities we have to navigate.”

So what are the chances of progress on immigration reform?

Not great at the moment.

But as readers suggested, a better question is this:

Why not?

Steve.lopez@latimes.com

During a dark moment in Bing Liu’s “Preparation for the Next Life,” our protagonist, Aishe (Sebiye Behtiyar), seeks guidance in a place she did not think she’d return to: a mosque. An undocumented Uyghur immigrant from China, Aishe has left behind the religion in which she was raised. But feeling alone and stuck in New York City, she turns toward this place of cultural familiarity, where the imam counsels her that she’ll be rewarded for her obedience in her next life. But what about this life, the one she’s living now?

Aishe has been preparing for her next life since she arrived in New York, getting stronger, smarter, faster, so that she can make the leap to an existence that’s more comfortable, safer, more abundant. Like most young girls with big dreams, there’s only one thing that can slow her forward momentum and that is, of course, a boy.

“Preparation for the Next Life” is the narrative feature debut of Academy Award-nominated documentary filmmaker Liu. His much-lauded film “Minding the Gap” is a searing and searching project about his childhood friends, a group of skateboarders he followed over the course of a heady transition period, often turning the camera on himself and his own family.

In “Preparation for the Next Life,” Liu once again trains his lens on the delicate coming-of-age that is the early 20s. As the title of this adaptation of Atticus Lish’s 2014 PEN/Faulkner Award-winning debut novel suggests, it captures a liminal time in which Aishe, in reflecting on her past while getting ready for her future, is surprised by the arrival of a new person who enters her life and asks her to stay in the moment, at least for a little while.

Aishe locks eyes with Brad Skinner (Fred Hechinger) on the street in Queens and they share an immediate intrigue. He’s recently been discharged from the Army, arriving in New York with some cash and a desire to do anything but go home. The young couple fall into lust, then love, over beers in a Latin American cowboy bar, Uyghur street food and then in a shabby basement apartment. Skinner is a reprieve from Aishe’s life working in brutal restaurant kitchens for under-the-table wages; Aishe is a grounding force for Skinner, grieving the loss of his best friend and managing his PTSD symptoms with a cocktail of meds and plenty of booze. They are both utterly alone in the world until they have each other.

Liu transports us into this small but affecting love story with stunning, saturated, fluid cinematography by Ante Cheng and a swooning score by Emile Mosseri. The filmmaker deploys this lush aesthetic to make us fall in love with Aishe and Skinner’s impossible, head-over-heels romance.

He weaves in Aishe’s childhood memories of her father, with her Uyghur language narration addressed to him, as she asks imploring questions of a man who will never be able to answer. Skinner’s military background inspires her own physical training, jogging miles and lifting weights. She’s always seeking her father, not just in Skinner the soldier but in herself too, the remnants of his presence thrumming through her memory.

Ambitious, driven and desperate to change her station in life, Aishe contemplates marriage, hoping for a path to legal status, though the only free advice she can get from an immigration lawyer is to be careful about whom she marries. She heeds this warning, starting to realize that this boyfriend might not bring her freedom but deadweight, as much as she tries to help him help himself. The scenario is high stakes given both Aishe’s status (she’s at one point arrested and detained) and Skinner’s mental health struggles, but this is a classic tale of a first love that curdles from sweet to sour.

The compelling performances and Liu’s artful direction elevate the script. Behtiyar, in her debut feature, is spectacular, eyes fiery, her expression often inscrutable, body in constant motion as Cheng’s camera follows close behind. Her connection with Hechinger is palpable, heady and heated, despite their characters’ differences, and it’s nice to see Hechinger in a more adult, romantic role, even as Skinner falls prey to his own demons.

Liu does indulge in the prolonging of heartache and indecision, and the story stalls while heading into the third act, the film stretched beyond what the material can sustain. Nevertheless, “Preparation for the Next Life” is a powerful assertion of dreams, humanity and hard work, arguing that every person has a past, a future and a story to tell. Some loves are for a lifetime, others just a moment, but nothing’s stopping Aishe from what she wants in this life — or her next.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

If a major hurricane approaches Central Florida this season, Maria knows it’s dangerous to stay inside her wooden, trailer-like home. In past storms, she evacuated to her sister’s sturdier house. If she couldn’t get there, a shelter set up at the local high school served as a refuge if needed.

But with accelerating detentions and deportations of immigrants across her community of Apopka, 20 miles northwest of Orlando, Maria, an agricultural worker from Mexico without permanent U.S. legal status, doesn’t know if those options are safe. All risk encountering immigration enforcement agents.

“They can go where they want,” said Maria, 50, who insisted the Associated Press not use her last name for fear of detention. “There is no limit.”

Natural disasters have long posed singular risks for people in the United States without permanent legal status. But with the arrival of peak Atlantic hurricane season, immigrants and their advocates say President Donald Trump’s robust immigration enforcement agenda has increased the danger.

Places considered neutral spaces by immigrants such as schools, hospitals and emergency management agencies are now suspect, and advocates say agreements by local law enforcement to collaborate with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement make them more vulnerable and compel a choice between being physically safe and avoiding detention.

“Am I going to risk the storm or risk endangering my family at the shelter?” said Dominique O’Connor, an organizer at the Farmworker Association of Florida. “You’re going to meet enforcement either way.”

For O’Connor and for many immigrants, it’s about storms. But people without permanent legal status could face these decisions anywhere that extreme heat, wildfires or other severe weather could necessitate evacuating, getting supplies or even seeking medical care.

Federal and state agencies have said little on whether immigration enforcement would be suspended in a disaster. It wouldn’t make much difference to Maria: “With all we’ve lived, we’ve lost trust.”

New policies deepen concerns

Efforts by Trump’s Republican administration to exponentially expand immigration enforcement capacity mean many of the agencies active in disaster response are increasingly entangled in immigration enforcement.

Since January, hundreds of law enforcement agencies have signed 287(g) agreements, allowing them to perform certain immigration enforcement actions. Most of the agreements are in hurricane-prone Florida and Texas.

Florida’s Division of Emergency Management oversees building the state’s new detention facilities, like the one called “Alligator Alcatraz” in the Everglades. Federal Emergency Management Agency funds are being used to build additional detention centers around the country, and the Department of Homeland Security temporarily reassigned some FEMA staff to assist ICE.

The National Guard, often seen passing out food and water after disasters, has been activated to support U.S. Customs and Border Protection operations and help at detention centers.

These dual roles can make for an intimidating scene during a disaster. After floods in July, more than 2,100 personnel from 20 state agencies aided the far-reaching response effort in Central Texas, along with CBP officers. Police controlled entry into hard-hit areas. Texas Department of Public Safety and private security officers staffed entrances to disaster recovery centers set up by FEMA.

That unsettled even families with permanent legal status, said Rae Cardenas, executive director of Doyle Community Center in Kerrville, Texas. Cardenas helped coordinate with the Mexican Consulate in San Antonio to replace documents for people who lived behind police checkpoints.

“Some families are afraid to go get their mail because their legal documents were washed away,” Cardenas said.

In Florida, these policies could make people unwilling to drive evacuation roads. Traffic stops are a frequent tool of detention, and Florida passed a law in February criminalizing entry into the state by those without legal status, though a judge temporarily blocked it.

There may be fewer places to evacuate now that public shelters, often guarded by police or requiring ID to enter, are no longer considered “protected areas” by DHS. The agency in January rescinded a policy of President Joe Biden, a Democrat, to avoid enforcement in places like schools, medical facilities and emergency response sites.

The fears extend even into disaster recovery. On top of meeting law enforcement at FEMA recovery centers, mixed-status households that qualify for help from the agency might hesitate to apply for fear of their information being accessed by other agencies, said Esmeralda Ledezma, communications associate with the Houston-based nonprofit Woori Juntos. “Even if you have the right to federal aid, you’re afraid to be punished for it,” Ledezma said.

In past emergencies, DHS has put out messaging stating it would suspend immigration enforcement. The agency’s policy now is unclear.

DHS Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin said in an email that CBP had not issued any guidance “because there have been no natural disasters affecting border enforcement.” She did not address what directions were given during CBP’s activation in the Texas floods or whether ICE would be active during a disaster.

Florida’s Division of Emergency Management did not respond to questions related to its policies toward people without legal status. Texas’ Division of Emergency Management referred The Associated Press to Republican Gov. Greg Abbott’s office, which did not respond.

Building local resilience is a priority

In spite of the crackdown, local officials in some hurricane-prone areas are expanding outreach to immigrant populations. “We are trying to move forward with business as usual,” said Gracia Fernandez, language access coordinator for Alachua County in Central Florida.

The county launched a program last year to translate and distribute emergency communications in Spanish, Haitian Creole and other languages. Now staffers want to spread the word that county shelters won’t require IDs, but since they’re public spaces, Fernandez acknowledged there’s not much they can do if ICE comes.

“There is still a risk,” she said. “But we will try our best to help people feel safe.”

As immigrant communities are pushed deeper into the shadows, more responsibility falls on nonprofits, and communities themselves, to keep each other safe.

Hope Community Center in Apopka has pushed local officials to commit to not requiring IDs at shelters and sandbag distribution points. During an evacuation, the facility becomes an alternative shelter and a command center, from which staffers translate and send out emergency communications in multiple languages. For those who won’t leave their homes, staffers do door-to-door wellness checks, delivering food and water.

“It’s a very grassroots, underground operation,” said Felipe Sousa Lazaballet, the center’s executive director.

Preparing the community is challenging when it’s consumed by the daily crises wrought by detentions and deportations, Sousa Lazaballet said.

“All of us are in triage mode,” he said. “Every day there is an emergency, so the community is not necessarily thinking about hurricane season yet. That’s why we have to have a plan.”

Angueira writes for the Associated Press.

SACRAMENTO — For nearly 20 years, Maria would call her sister — a nurse in Mexico — for advice on how to manage her asthma and control her husband’s diabetes instead of going to the doctor in California.

She didn’t have legal status, so she couldn’t get health insurance and skipped routine exams, relying instead on home remedies and, at times, getting inhalers from Mexico. She insisted on using only her first name for fear of deportation.

Things changed for Maria and many others in recent years when some Democratic-led states opened up their health insurance programs to low-income immigrants regardless of their legal status. Maria and her husband signed up the day the program began last year.

“It changed immensely, like from Earth to the heavens,” Maria said in Spanish of Medi-Cal, California’s Medicaid program. “Having the peace of mind of getting insurance leads me to getting sick less.”

At least seven states and the District of Columbia have offered coverage for immigrants, mostly since 2020. But three of them have done an about-face, ending or limiting coverage for hundreds of thousands of immigrants who aren’t in the U.S. legally — California, Illinois and Minnesota.

The programs cost much more than officials had projected at a time when the states are facing multibillion-dollar deficits now and in the future. In Illinois, adult immigrants ages 42 to 64 without legal status have lost their healthcare to save an estimated $404 million. All adult immigrants in Minnesota no longer have access to the state program, saving nearly $57 million. In California, no one will automatically lose coverage, but new enrollments for adults will stop in 2026 to save more than $3 billion over several years.

Cuts in all three states were backed by Democratic governors who once championed expanding health coverage to immigrants.

The Trump administration this week shared the home addresses, ethnicities and personal data of all Medicaid recipients with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials. Twenty states, including California, Illinois and Minnesota, have sued.

Healthcare providers told the Associated Press that all of those factors, especially the fear of being arrested or deported, are having a chilling effect on people seeking care. And states may have to spend more money down the road because immigrants will avoid preventive healthcare and end up needing to go to safety-net hospitals.

“I feel like they continue to squeeze you more and more to the point where you’ll burst,” Maria said, referencing all the uncertainties for people who are in the U.S. without legal permission.

‘People are going to die’

People who run free and community health clinics in California and Minnesota said patients who got on state Medicaid programs received knee replacements and heart procedures and were diagnosed for serious conditions like late-stage cancer.

CommunityHealth is one of the nation’s largest free clinics, serving many uninsured and underinsured immigrants in the Chicago area who have no other options for treatment. That includes the people who lost coverage July 1 when Illinois ended its Health Benefits for Immigrants Adults Program, which served about 31,500 people ages 42 to 64.

One of CommunityHealth’s community outreach workers and care coordinator said Eastern European patients she works with started coming in with questions about what the change meant for them. She said many of the patients also don’t speak English and don’t have transportation to get to clinics that can treat them. The worker spoke to the AP on condition of anonymity to protect patients’ privacy.

Health Finders Collective in Minnesota’s rural Rice and Steele counties south of Minneapolis serves low-income and underinsured patients, including large populations of Latino immigrants and Somali refugees. Executive director Charlie Mandile said his clinics are seeing patients rushing to squeeze in appointments and procedures before 19,000 people age 18 and older are kicked off insurance at the end of the year.

Free and community health clinics in all three states say they will keep serving patients regardless of insurance coverage — but that might get harder after the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services decided this month to restrict federally qualified health centers from treating people without legal status.

CommunityHealth Chief Executive Stephanie Willding said she always worried about the stability of the program because it was fully state funded, “but truthfully, we thought that day was much, much further away.”

“People are going to die. Some people are going to go untreated,” Alicia Hardy, chief executive officer of CommuniCARE+OLE clinics in California, said of the state’s Medicaid changes. “It’s hard to see the humanity in the decision-making that’s happening right now.”

A spokesperson for the Minnesota Department of Health said ending the state’s program will decrease MinnesotaCare spending in the short term, but she acknowledged healthcare costs would rise elsewhere, including uncompensated care at hospitals.

Minnesota House Speaker Lisa Demuth, a Republican, said the state’s program was not sustainable.

“It wasn’t about trying to be non-compassionate or not caring about people,” she said. “When we looked at the state budget, the dollars were not there to support what was passed and what was being spent.”

Demuth also noted that children will still have coverage, and adults lacking permanent legal status can buy private health insurance.

Healthcare providers also are worried that preventable conditions will go unmanaged, and people will avoid care until they end up in emergency rooms — where care will be available under federal law.

One of those safety-net public hospitals, Cook County Health in Chicago, treated about 8,000 patients from Illinois’ program last year. Dr. Erik Mikaitis, the health system’s CEO, said doing so brought in $111 million in revenue.

But he anticipated other providers who billed through the program could close, he said. “Things can become unstable very quickly,” he said.

Monthly fees, federal policies create barriers

State lawmakers said California’s Medi-Cal changes stem from budget issues — a $12-billion deficit this year, with larger ones projected ahead. Democratic state leaders last month agreed to stop new enrollment starting in 2026 for all low-income adults without legal status. Those under 60 remaining on the program will have to pay a $30 monthly fee in 2027.

States are also bracing for impact from federal policies. Cuts to Medicaid and other programs in President Trump’s massive tax and spending bill include a 10% cut to the federal share of Medicaid expansion costs to states that offer health benefits to immigrants starting October 2027.

California health officials estimate roughly 200,000 people will lose coverage after the first full year of restricted enrollment, though Gov. Gavin Newsom maintains that even with the rollbacks, California provides the most expansive healthcare coverage for poor adults.

Every new bill requires a shift in Maria’s monthly calculations to make ends meet. She believes many people won’t be able to afford the $30-a-month premiums and will instead go back to self-medication or skip treatment altogether.

“It was a total triumph,” she said of Medi-Cal expansion. “But now that all of this is coming our way, we’re going backwards to a worse place.”

Fear and tension about immigration raids are changing patient behavior, too. Providers told the AP that, as immigration raids ramped up, their patients were requesting more virtual appointments, not showing up to routine doctor’s visits and not picking up prescriptions for their chronic conditions.

Maria has the option to keep her coverage. But she is weighing the health of her family against risking what they’ve built in the U.S.

“It’s going to be very difficult,” Maria said of her decision to remain on the program. “If it comes to the point where my husband gets sick and his life is at risk, well then, obviously, we have to choose his life.”

Nguyễn and Shastri write for the Associated Press and reported from Sacramento and Milwaukee, respectively. AP journalist Godofredo Vasquez in San Francisco contributed to this report.

She was attending her first protest, driven to be seen with thousands of others at a “No Kings” demonstration Saturday morning in El Segundo, eager to make a statement.

But she was there for her father, as well.

The sign she held aloft as car horns honked in support said: “I’m speaking for those who can’t.”

Her father would have loved to join her, Jennifer told me. But with ICE raids in Los Angeles and arrests by the hundreds in recent days, her 55-year-old undocumented dad couldn’t afford to take the risk.

Steve Lopez

Steve Lopez is a California native who has been a Los Angeles Times columnist since 2001. He has won more than a dozen national journalism awards and is a four-time Pulitzer finalist.

Jennifer is 29. I hadn’t seen her in nearly 20 years, when I wrote about her father and visited her home in Inglewood to deliver $2,000 donated by readers who read his story.

Here’s the back story:

In December of 2005 I got a tip about a shooting in the front yard of an Inglewood home. Two men approached a landscaper and demanded money. He resisted, and in the tussle that ensued, a shot was fired.

Paramedics rushed the man to the emergency room at UCLA, where doctors determined that a bullet had just missed his heart and was lodged in his chest. Although doctors recommended he stay at least overnight for observation, he insisted he felt fine and needed to get back to work.

The landscaper, whom I referred to as Ray, insisted on leaving immediately. As he later explained to me, the Inglewood job was for a client who hired him to re-landscape the yard as a Christmas gift to his wife.

Ray was shot on Dec. 23.

Demonstrators at a “No Kings” event at Main Street and Imperial Highway in El Segundo on Saturday.

(Steve Lopez / Los Angeles Times)

He finished the job by Christmas.

I’ve been thinking about Ray since ICE agents began the crackdown ordered by President Trump, whose administration said its goal was to deport 3,000 people a day. Hundreds have been arrested in the Fashion District, at car washes and at building supply stores across Los Angeles.

That’s led to clashes between law enforcement and demonstrators, and to peaceful protests like the one along Imperial Highway and Main Street on Saturday in El Segundo.

I thought of Ray because Trump generally speaks of undocumented immigrants as monsters, and no doubt there are criminals among them.

But over the years, nearly all my encounters have been with the likes of Ray, who are an essential part of the workforce.

Yes, there are costs associated with undocumented immigrants, but benefits as well — they’ve been an essential part of the California economy for years. And among those eager to hire them — in the fields, in the hospitality industry, in slaughterhouses, in healthcare — are avid Trump supporters.

On Friday, I called Ray to see how he was doing.

“I’m worried about it,” he said, even though he has some protection.

Demonstrators at the “No Kings” event in El Segundo raise their signs, including one that read, “Real men don’t need parades.”

(Steve Lopez / Los Angeles Times)

Several years ago, an immigration attorney helped him get a permit to work, but the Trump administration has vowed to end temporary protected legal status for certain groups of immigrants.

“I see and hear about a lot of cases where they’re not respecting documents. People look Latino, and they get arrested,” said Ray, who is in the midst of a years-long process to upgrade his status.

Ray is still loading tools onto his truck and driving to landscaping, tree-trimming and irrigation jobs across L.A., as he’s done for more than 30 years. But he said he’s being extra careful.

A protester at a “No Kings” event in El Segundo prepares a sign on Saturday.

(Steve Lopez / Los Angeles Times)

“You know, like keeping an eye out everywhere and checking my telephone to see where checkpoints are,” he said.

Ray’s ex-wife has legal status, and all three of their children were born here and are U.S. citizens. The marriage ended and Ray has remarried, but he remains close to the three kids I met in the spring of 2006, when they were 9, 10 and 11.

The younger son, who is disabled, lives with Ray. His older son, a graphic designer, lives nearby. Jennifer, a job recruiter, lives next door and has been on edge in recent days.

“Even though he has permission to be here … it’s scary, and I wasn’t even letting him go to work,” Jennifer said. “On Monday I was getting into the shower and heard him loading up the truck.”

She ran outside to stop him, but he was already gone, so she called him and said, “Oh my God, you shouldn’t be going to work right now. It’s not safe.”

“No Kings” was the theme of the day during a demonstration in El Segundo on Saturday.

(Steve Lopez / Los Angeles Times)

Jennifer works from home but couldn’t concentrate that day. She used an app to track her father’s location and checked the latest information on ICE raids. So far, Ray has made it home safely each day, although Jennifer is hoping he slows down for a while.

Twenty years ago, when I wrote about Ray getting shot and his insistence on going back to work immediately, one of the readers who donated money — $1,000 — to him was one of his landscaping clients, Rohelle Erde. When I checked in with her this week to update her on Ray’s situation, she said her entire family came to the U.S. as immigrants to work hard and build a better life, and Ray did the same.

“He has been working and making money and helping people beautify their homes, creating beauty and order, and this must be so distressing,” Erde said. “The ugliness and disorder are exactly the opposite of what he represents.”

The evening before Saturday’s rally in El Segundo, Jennifer told me why she wanted to demonstrate:

“To show my face for those who can’t speak and to say we’re not all criminals, we’re all sticking together, we have each other’s backs,” she said. “The girl who takes care of my kids is undocumented and she’s scared to leave the house. I have a lot of friends and family in the same boat.”

Jennifer attended with her son, who’s 9 and told me he’s afraid his grandfather will be arrested and sent back to Mexico.

“He’s the age I was when you met me,” Jennifer said of her son.

She took in the crowd and said it was uplifting to see such a huge and diverse throng of people stand up, in peaceful protest, against authoritarianism and the militarization of the country.

Mother and son stood together, flashing their signs for passing motorists.

His said, “Families belong together.”

Jennifer told me that her father still has the bullet in his chest.

steve.lopez@latimes.com

WASHINGTON — Lawmakers this week condemned the Trump administration’s termination of humanitarian protections that have left a 4-year-old girl who is receiving critical medical treatment in Los Angeles vulnerable to deportation and death.

On Tuesday, The Times published the story of S.G.V., who has short bowel syndrome — a rare condition that prevents her body from completely absorbing nutrients. She and her parents received temporary permission to enter the U.S. legally through Tijuana in 2023.

In a letter Thursday to Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, 38 congressional Democrats, including California Sens. Alex Padilla and Adam Schiff, urged her to reconsider the termination of the family’s legal status.

“We believe this family’s situation clearly meets the need for humanitarian aid and urge you and this Administration to reconsider its decision,” the lawmakers wrote. “It is our duty to protect the sick, vulnerable, and defenseless.”

Last month, S.G.V.’s family, who now live in Bakersfield, received notice from U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services that their status had been terminated and that they had to leave the country immediately. Earlier this month, they applied again for humanitarian protections.

Tricia McLaughlin, assistant secretary in the Department of Homeland Security, said in a statement that the family is not actively in the deportation process and that their application is still being considered.

The girl’s physician, Dr. John Arsenault of Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, wrote in a letter requested by her family that any interruption in her daily nutrition system “could be fatal within a matter of days.”

The story about S.G.V. drew swift public outcry. An online fundraiser for the girl’s care had amassed nearly $26,000 as of Thursday morning.

The letter to Noem was led by Reps. Luz Rivas (D-North Hollywood) and Sydney Kamlager-Dove (D-Los Angeles). Rivas said state legislators and constituents messaged her about the family, asking what she could do to help.

While the family lives outside of Rivas’ district, which encompasses the north-central San Fernando Valley, she said it is her role as a California Democrat and a member of the Congressional Hispanic Caucus to speak up for immigrant constituents in districts where Republican representatives may not do so.

“That’s why we’re organizing as members of Congress,” Rivas said. “Without action from Secretary Noem and this administration, this little girl will die within days.”

In a post on X, Rep. Judy Chu (D-Monterey Park) called the situation “heartbreaking.” Seeking to deport the girl despite her medical condition is “cruel and inexcusable,” Chu added.

In another X post, Rep. Greg Casar (D-Texas) wrote: “Trump wants to deport a four-year-old who could die from a life-threatening medical condition if her treatment is interrupted. How does this cruelty make us a stronger nation?”

The family and their attorneys held a news conference Wednesday at the Koreatown office of the pro bono firm, Public Counsel. The lawyers explained that the equipment administered by the hospital to S.G.V. for home use is not available outside the U.S.

“If they deport us and they take away my daughter’s access to specialized medical care, she will die,” said Deysi Vargas.

Attorneys for the family noted that S.G.V. is not the only child affected in recent months by the Trump administration’s immigration policies. In an attempt to speed up arrests and deportations, they said, children are needlessly being swept up in the process.

Gina Amato Lough, directing attorney at Public Counsel, said the girl’s case “is a symbol of the recklessness of this administration’s deportation policies.”

“We’re seeing a pattern of cruelty and a violation of our most treasured rights and values,” said Amato Lough. “These are people coming to us for protection, and instead we’re sending them to die. That’s not justice, and it doesn’t make us any safer.”