Activism
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October 28, 2025
Meet Angelica Vargas, one of the most prominent of a new kind of activist: the ICE chaser.
Screenshots from some of Angie Vargas’s TikTok videos.
Angelica Vargas was driving to get coffee near her home in Downey, California, when she saw a disturbing, yet now-familiar sight: Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents running down the street, arresting a man who was painting a gas station. Immediately, Vargas moved to action: She pulled over and confronted the officers, using the firm, calm tone she’s learned is effective in situations like these.
“Of course, they got a little bit defensive. But then I started recording for evidence. And I reminded the guy he had rights. I kind of gave the officers a rough time,” Vargas said in a phone interview. Her initial plan was only to assist the detainee and document the officers. But then, seemingly in retaliation, some ICE vehicles remained behind to “box in” Vargas’s car, preventing her from leaving.
“That pissed me off. I mean, they weren’t gonna be there forever, boxing me in,” Vargas recalled. “So when they took off, I said, Let’s go. I have a really fast car. So I gave them a run for their money that day.”
For Vargas, a Mercedes-driving self-described “soccer mom,” that was the start of a new extracurricular: chasing ICE vehicles on the road, and posting the videos on TikTok. Now Vargas is known to her hundreds of thousands of followers—and the tens of millions of people who have watched her content—for her videos with cheeky titles like “Spending Quality Time With ICE.” Posted in time-lapse speed to jaunty Mexican music, Vargas’s videos show ICE vehicles weaving lanes, and in some cases making multiple or illegal U-turns, to avoid her. In one video, Vargas cuts across what appears to be a gas station parking lot to speed up her pursuit.
“I love you taking shortcuts to get back to them that they don’t know about. Guess who’s actually from there,” one user commented. Indeed, the overall effect, as commenters have noted, is like Grand Theft Auto: exhilarating, even heroic.
ICE raids have skyrocketed under the Trump administration, striking fear in immigrant communities. Fueled by a $75 billion funding increase this year, arrests surged in the Los Angeles area, where Vargas lives. Over 2,000 immigrants without criminal records were arrested this summer, the majority from Mexico and Guatemala. Other areas have been hit hard more recently; in Chicago and its suburbs, for instance, federal agents have used tear gas and smashed car windows while carrying out raids.
Raids are designed to inspire fear, with agents frequently wearing masks, seizing students off the streets, and even incorporating theatrical, militarized elements like agents on horseback. “The Trump administration’s goal is to make life as unnavigable, unstable and uncomfortable as possible” for undocumented immigrants, CalMatters reported in August. The effects in the LA area have been palpable. Bus ridership decreased in LA over the summer, and Cal State Los Angeles, which serves working-class communities, allowed students to take classes online for fear of immigration enforcement.
In these conditions of terror, Vargas’s decision to turn the fear back on ICE offers much-needed catharsis for her viewers. “You had them stressing 😂,” commented one user on a June video. “ICE works hard but Angie works harder 😭,” said another. “Do you think they sit around campfires and tell horror stories about you?” another joked.
Vargas’s favorite responses, she said, come from older generations. “There was a girl who reached out to me and told me that her dad was an illegal immigrant, and before his passing, he loved my TikTok page,” she said. “It brightened up his day.”
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Vargas did not intend to become a public vigilante. She works by day as a mental health professional and dedicates much of her free time to raising her two daughters, student athletes aged 15 and 16. But times are too dire to stay home, she said. Before the ICE raids, she said, “people were able to do their daily lives, go to Home Depots without having the fear of being detained, or even showing up to their jobs without the fear of being raided by immigration agents. A lot has shifted. We are definitely living under terror.”
Vargas first discovered her superpower—her ability to stand up to ICE—in June, when she got a distressing call from her mother: Vargas’s sister, a US citizen, had gotten stuck at a “super chaotic” ICE raid at a Home Depot in Downey. “There was tear-gassing, fire bombs, a bunch of stuff that, you know, it’s just not normal. On a Saturday morning,” Vargas recalled. “My mom was scared, and I took initiative. I said, ‘Mom, I’m going to go get her.’”
Although ICE had blocked off the parking lot and wasn’t allowing anybody to leave, Vargas drove up to the Home Depot. She managed to push through the barriers and convince the ICE agents to allow her sister to drive out in her truck. “Mind you, she was one of the only people that was allowed to leave. I convinced the federal agents, right? So I’d seen what I could do,” Vargas said. “It really made me see how privileged I am to be a US citizen. Everybody’s told me, like, you carry this confidence in you, even officers respect you. So I’m gonna use that to my advantage and for the community.”
Vargas thinks she is able to get through to ICE agents because she is a US citizen and speaks fluent English. She’s strengthened her communication tactics—she tries to keep it “smart and professional,” having noticed that federal agents don’t respond well to cursing or aggressive questioning. Vargas, a former psych major, also tries to use “reverse psychology tactics” against the agents, trying to “relate to them, get on their level.”
“I feel like a lot of people stay indoors and just watch through a phone,” she said, “when they have the legal status to go out there and make a difference.”
Emboldened by her success at Home Depot, Vargas started keeping track of ICE raids in her community. She uses civilian-run Instagram and TikTok accounts that report ICE raids in the hopes of mobilizing responders. Manny, the 29-year-old community college student behind the Instagram account @LAHoodLove, is one such source.
On a given day, @LAHoodLove blasts a series of potential ICE sightings, often naming streets and posting grainy photos.
Manny, who is also an ICE chaser, was already active in organizing fundraisers for street vendors and leading peaceful protests, including at the Downey Home Depot, which is often hit by raids. Manny said ICE chasers stepped up their tactics because ICE doesn’t play by normal rules. “They cover their faces and they don’t act like regular law enforcement or other federal agents,” Manny said. “I call them kidnappers, because they’re wearing masks. No plates, no badge number. They’re just grabbing, pulling out guns. This is worse than cartel. They take you, and you disappear.”
Vargas and Manny, like many organizers, took advantage of the fact that ICE, at least in the early months of the Trump administration, was disorganized. Manny’s first time chasing ICE was in February. He said he sensed that the agents were nervous. “I already had an idea that ICE was going to hire contractors. So I just figured, OK, they haven’t done this in a while, so it’s gonna be a little off,” Manny said. “So once I approached them, they were shook because I was recording them. I had my phone right in their faces, and I was like, who are you guys? Where you work?”
The agents, Manny said, claimed to be probation officers, but the effect on the people they were detaining was confusion and terror. Indeed, ICE’s practice of wearing masks during raids earned swift public pushback and is facing legal and policy challenges.
Vargas said ICE is getting more effective now—but so too is resistance. “They’re scared to be ambushed by civilians, especially now, since we’re all well connected,” Vargas said.
Social media, Vargas said, has been a “huge blessing” for community members to coordinate their response, whether that is ICE chasing, documenting raids, or informing detainees of their rights. It also helps build morale. There are the viral videos of mass confrontations with ICE and the Border Patrol, from LA to Portland to Chicago. But there are also people standing up on a smaller scale. Social media is filled with choppy videos filmed by bystanders bearing witness to raids.
In July, the Los Angeles Times compiled a list of social media videos that showcase civilians intervening in local ICE arrests. From cars honking in warning as Border Patrol trucks enter a parking lot, to a woman screaming, “What’s wrong with you?” at agents arresting a taco vendor, to a woman commenting, “Bitches,” as she records agents making arrests at a Home Depot, social media bears witness to a tapestry of quiet and overt resistance.
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Nonetheless, ICE chasing carries significant risks. Manny said that “unfortunately” he has never consulted with a lawyer or gotten legal protection for his ICE chasing; he works alone because he doesn’t want to endanger a passenger if he is detained. Just in case, he switched cars. Vargas, too, said she chases alone: “Nobody knew where I was. Only, like, my best friends had my location.” While she isn’t afraid of detention by ICE since she’s a US citizen, she did initially fear being pulled over by police.
Now that she’s often busy responding to ICE sightings, Vargas’s mother steps in to help take care of her daughters. “They are my number-one supporters,” Vargas said of her family; while she doesn’t bring her daughters on ICE chases for safety reasons, they help charge her phones, batteries, and media equipment, and accompany her to “friendlier, family-oriented protests.” Meanwhile, Vargas’s social media followers sought ways to help. Responding to comments offering to pay for her gas, Vargas set up a GoFundMe page, “Support Angie in Protecting Our Latin Community,” that has raised over $122,000.
To her community, in-person and online, Vargas is a hero. She said she’s always been this kind of person—someone who stands up when things are difficult. This quality she attributes to her father, an ex-professional soccer player, who raised her with privilege in the suburbs but “never let [her] forget she is brown.” She also credited her organizing chops to managing her daughter’s soccer team. Beyond ICE chasing, she stays active in her community through mutual aid efforts and food distributions, and has contemplated running for office in the future.
“It definitely doesn’t come with a manual,” Vargas said of organizing against ICE. “Everything is going to be different. One day you can be helping a person with groceries. The next day, you can be chasing ICE and confronting federal agents.”
These days ICE comes to Downey less often, hopefully a result of ICE-chasing efforts, Vargas said. “I’m not getting as much ICE leads around my city, which is a good thing. But now I have to commute longer in order to do what I was doing. Sometimes I feel uncomfortable because it’s not within my comfort zone, like, I don’t know the streets, what freeways I’m at. But I still make an effort to go out there and help out the community.”
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Felecia Phillips Ollie DD (h.c.) is the inspiring leader and founder of The Equality Network LLC (TEN). With a background in coaching, travel, and a career in news, Felecia brings a unique perspective to promoting diversity and inclusion. Holding a Bachelor’s Degree in English/Communications, she is passionate about creating a more inclusive future. From graduating from Mississippi Valley State University to leading initiatives like the Washington State Department of Ecology’s Equal Employment Opportunity Program, Felecia is dedicated to making a positive impact. Join her journey on our blog as she shares insights and leads the charge for equity through The Equality Network.
