Then came the helicopters.
Parents looked up. Law enforcement vehicles rolled in. ICE agents had begun detaining day laborers nearby at a Home Depot just blocks away, part of a wider immigration raid that netted dozens across Los Angeles. And suddenly, what had been a celebration turned into a scene of panic.
The school went on lockdown. Some parents fled the school grounds, terrified that they too might be detained. Some were forced to leave their children behind. Inside the classrooms, teachers tried to calm sobbing kids who didn’t know if their families would be there at pickup time or at home when they got off the bus.
This is trauma. And the state caused it.
This is what happens when militarized law enforcement storms into a neighborhood in broad daylight, in full view of children. When helicopters circle overhead and federal agents treat an immigrant community like an enemy outpost.
And that was only the beginning.
The next day, June 7, people began protesting those very raids. Peacefully. Even LAPD said so. There was no violence. No looting. No fires. Just people demanding dignity, safety, and accountability.
But that wasn’t the story the White House wanted.
So Trump’s administration, without the consent of California’s governor, federalized 2,000 National Guard troops and deployed them to Los Angeles. The LAPD quickly declared the protest an “unlawful assembly,” and everything changed.
They fired tear gas. Flash-bangs. Rubber bullets.
They shot a woman in the head while she crouched behind a concrete block, trying to protect herself. Multiple videos show it all. The moment she was struck. Officers blaming protesters for her injuries. Refusing to call an ambulance. And then trying to guilt the crowd into carrying her bleeding body away themselves.
So they did. Her fellow protesters lifted her off the ground and carried her to safety. The same officers who shot her just stood by and watched, believing she got what she deserved.
This is a profound failure of duty, of ethics, of basic humanity. Denying emergency medical aid to someone you injured is unconscionable. It is not public safety. It is state violence.
The protests were peaceful. Until the government made them violent. ICE raids. Federal troops. Local police choosing force over aid. There was no riot until the riot gear arrived.
And in the middle of it all? Children. Crying in classrooms. Wondering if their parents had vanished. Watching the skies fill with helicopters and hearing sirens in the streets.
This wasn’t law enforcement. This was intimidation. This was a show of power. And this was trauma that these kids will carry long after the troops go home and the headlines fade.
We are not just dealing with a policy crisis. We are staring down a moral collapse. If this does not haunt every lawmaker, every officer, every so-called public servant involved, then the rot is deeper than we feared.
We are not just facing a failure of leadership. We are living through a deliberate campaign of fear and control. Children should not have to process the possibility that their parents were disappeared. Protesters should not have to choose between bleeding out on the sidewalk and dragging their own to safety. And we, the people, should not accept a future where state violence is normalized and dissent is treated as a crime.
This is not the time to look away. It is time to resist.
If you are overwhelmed, angry, and unsure where to start, I created The Resistance Manual: How to Stand Up Without Burning Out for moments just like this. Pay what you can, if you can. It is a PDF built for everyday people who want to fight back without collapsing under the weight of it all. You do not have to do everything. But we all have to do something.
Download it. Share it. Live it.
Because the system is counting on our silence.
And these kids deserve a world that does not make them afraid to celebrate their graduation.
