Where Immigration Policy Becomes Force.In the United States, immigration enforcement no longer lives only at the border or inside courtrooms. It arrives in neighborhoods. It comes to workplaces and parking lots. It shows up at traffic stops and front doors, often early in the morning, when children are still asleep and the day has not yet announced itself. In one widely circulated video, immigration agents are seen attempting to enter a consulate, a space traditionally understood as diplomatically protected. What was once framed as distant policy has moved into ordinary space. Even people who believed themselves untouched by immigration law are beginning to feel its presence.In recent weeks, renewed Immigration and Customs Enforcement activity across parts of the country has intensified fear in immigrant communities. Raids have resumed with a visibility that feels deliberate. Marked vehicles arrive together. Agents wear tactical gear. Operations unfold in public view. Enforcement is meant to be seen. That visibility has come with lethal consequences. In one widely reported incident, a civilian woman, Renee Good, was killed during an immigration enforcement encounter. According to reporting, she was shot multiple times at close range, struck three times in the head. Authorities described the event as a law enforcement action. The circumstances remain under investigation, but the fact of her death is not in dispute. An administrative operation ended with a woman dead. She was not alone. In a separate incident, Alex Pretti, an ICU nurse, was also killed during an encounter connected to immigration enforcement. The details differ, but the setting does not. These were not border crossings or armed standoffs. They were domestic enforcement actions carried out in civilian environments. Taken together, the deaths point to a shift that is no longer theoretical. Immigration policy in the United States is now enforced on the ground, through physical confrontation, with consequences that can be irreversible. This shift is shaped in part by how enforcement officers are trained. ICE agents are federal law enforcement personnel, often trained in tactical response, use of force, and rapid compliance scenarios. That training is designed for danger and resistance. But immigration enforcement is, at its core, an administrative function. When methods developed for criminal or counterterror operations are applied to civil immigration cases, the margin for harm widens. Speed and dominance replace deliberation. Presence becomes pressure. The same logic appears in the tactics now being reported. In one case, ICE agents allegedly detained a five-year-old child in order to compel the surrender of his family members. The child was not accused of anything. He was used as leverage. Whether described as procedure or necessity, the effect is the same. Psychological coercion has become routine, and children are no longer shielded from the mechanisms of enforcement. For European readers, and for Italians in particular, these scenes can feel almost unreal. Italy has its own severe migration policies and a long record of human suffering tied to it. Thousands have died attempting to cross the Mediterranean. Italy has funded and cooperated with Libyan authorities whose detention centers are widely documented as sites of abuse. Border control has been pushed outward, made distant, and rendered less visible. Yet interior immigration raids of this nature are not a defining feature of Italian daily life. In Italy, enforcement is largely bureaucratic. Residency permits are issued or denied at the questura. Police checks occur, but they are rarely staged as militarized operations. Even amid political rhetoric centered on security, enforcement tends to remain procedural rather than theatrical. Force exists, but it is not performed. Violence is not framed as deterrence. In the United States, by contrast, enforcement has become visible, coordinated, and symbolic. Raids are filmed. Tactical gear signals authority before any interaction begins. The effect extends beyond those detained. It reshapes how entire communities move through space. Legal status begins to feel provisional. Safety becomes conditional. Italy’s history sharpens this comparison. The country knows how state power moves from abstraction into daily life. Fascism did not arrive all at once. It advanced through normalization, through the quiet acceptance of extraordinary measures as ordinary tools. That memory does not offer immunity, but it does offer warning. The killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti should not be understood as isolated American tragedies. They are signals of what happens when enforcement becomes untethered from restraint, when fear becomes an instrument of policy, and when administrative law is enforced through coercion rather than protection. For Italians watching from across the Atlantic, the lesson is not one of distance or moral superiority. Italy’s own migration policies have produced immense suffering. The lesson is attentiveness. The way a state governs migration shapes the moral atmosphere of everyday life. It determines whether the law is experienced as protection or as threat. When immigration enforcement comes home, when it enters neighborhoods, families, and private space, it alters more than who belongs. It changes how belonging itself is understood. That is a question no democracy can afford to ignore.

In the United States, immigration enforcement no longer lives only at the border or inside courtrooms. It arrives in neighborhoods. It comes to workplaces and parking lots. It shows up at traffic stops and front doors, often early in the morning, when children are still asleep and the day has not yet announced itself. In one widely circulated video, immigration agents are seen attempting to enter a consulate, a space traditionally understood as diplomatically protected. What was once framed as distant policy has moved into ordinary space. Even people who believed themselves untouched by immigration law are beginning to feel its presence. In recent weeks, renewed Immigration and Customs Enforcement activity across parts of the country has intensified fear in immigrant communities. Raids have resumed with a visibility that feels deliberate. Marked vehicles arrive together. Agents wear tactical gear. Operations unfold in public view. Enforcement is meant to be seen. That visibility has come with lethal consequences. In one widely reported incident, a civilian woman, Renee Good, was killed during an immigration enforcement encounter. According to reporting, she was shot multiple times at close range, struck three times in the head. Authorities described the event as a law enforcement action. The circumstances remain under investigation, but the fact of her death is not in dispute. An administrative operation ended with a woman dead. She was not alone. In a separate incident, Alex Pretti, an ICU nurse, was also killed during an encounter connected to immigration enforcement. The details differ, but the setting does not. These were not border crossings or armed standoffs. They were domestic enforcement actions carried out in civilian environments. Taken together, the deaths point to a shift that is no longer theoretical. Immigration policy in the United States is now enforced on the ground, through physical confrontation, with consequences that can be irreversible. This shift is shaped in part by how enforcement officers are trained. ICE agents are federal law enforcement personnel, often trained in tactical response, use of force, and rapid compliance scenarios. That training is designed for danger and resistance. But immigration enforcement is, at its core, an administrative function. When methods developed for criminal or counterterror operations are applied to civil immigration cases, the margin for harm widens. Speed and dominance replace deliberation. Presence becomes pressure. The same logic appears in the tactics now being reported. In one case, ICE agents allegedly detained a five-year-old child in order to compel the surrender of his family members. The child was not accused of anything. He was used as leverage. Whether described as procedure or necessity, the effect is the same. Psychological coercion has become routine, and children are no longer shielded from the mechanisms of enforcement. For European readers, and for Italians in particular, these scenes can feel almost unreal. Italy has its own severe migration policies and a long record of human suffering tied to it. Thousands have died attempting to cross the Mediterranean. Italy has funded and cooperated with Libyan authorities whose detention centers are widely documented as sites of abuse. Border control has been pushed outward, made distant, and rendered less visible. Yet interior immigration raids of this nature are not a defining feature of Italian daily life. In Italy, enforcement is largely bureaucratic. Residency permits are issued or denied at the questura. Police checks occur, but they are rarely staged as militarized operations. Even amid political rhetoric centered on security, enforcement tends to remain procedural rather than theatrical. Force exists, but it is not performed. Violence is not framed as deterrence. In the United States, by contrast, enforcement has become visible, coordinated, and symbolic. Raids are filmed. Tactical gear signals authority before any interaction begins. The effect extends beyond those detained. It reshapes how entire communities move through space. Legal status begins to feel provisional. Safety becomes conditional. Italy’s history sharpens this comparison. The country knows how state power moves from abstraction into daily life. Fascism did not arrive all at once. It advanced through normalization, through the quiet acceptance of extraordinary measures as ordinary tools. That memory does not offer immunity, but it does offer warning. The killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti should not be understood as isolated American tragedies. They are signals of what happens when enforcement becomes untethered from restraint, when fear becomes an instrument of policy, and when administrative law is enforced through coercion rather than protection. For Italians watching from across the Atlantic, the lesson is not one of distance or moral superiority. Italy’s own migration policies have produced immense suffering. The lesson is attentiveness. The way a state governs migration shapes the moral atmosphere of everyday life. It determines whether the law is experienced as protection or as threat. When immigration enforcement comes home, when it enters neighborhoods, families, and private space, it alters more than who belongs. It changes how belonging itself is understood. That is a question no democracy can afford to ignore.