A school bus, ICE agents, and a Richfield mother's rage

A message notification from the Richfield Public Schools superintendent flashed across my phone screen as I rode home from work on Thursday, Jan. 29. 

“That can’t be good,” I thought to myself. Richfield has been a hot spot in recent weeks for President Trump’s DHS/ICE cronies to wreak havoc on run-of-the-mill, law-abiding Minnesotans just trying to live their lives and avoid frostbite until spring. 

Recently, it seemed, nearly every message from the school district was (by no fault of their own) an update that would force me to face the grief, yet again – and again and again and again – that we are under occupation by a hostile federal government, and my kids are not growing up in the type of world I always hoped for them.

Thursday was no different: “We are writing to inform you of an incident that occurred this afternoon on one of our Richfield Middle School bus routes. School staff were made aware that federal agents were present on one of our bus routes this afternoon.” 

I can’t recall any other time in my life that red hot rage consumed me so completely. I’m writing this less than a full day after reading the message, and it’s like looking at a distant memory through a fogged window – everything is blurry and feels like it’s moving half a beat too slow.

The only clear thought I remember having in those first moments of processing was, “Why are ICE agents anywhere near our children? Get these masked killers away from our fucking kids!”

After calling home to learn my daughter’s bus was not involved, I felt grateful but didn’t feel relief. Her bus wasn’t involved, no, but this also isn't the first time ICE agents have been threateningly close to a school bus in Minnesota, and it won't be the last.

Someone else’s kid, who is just like my kid – bright, funny, anxious, kind –  still had to experience the sheer terror and confusion of being stalked by masked men with guns at a school bus stop.

That is terrifying enough on its own. But let’s zoom out a bit and look at the school year as a whole: These kids began the 2025-26 school year with news of a deadly shooting at Annunciation Catholic School, just four miles down the road. On Aug. 27, a shooter opened fire in the school, killing 8-year-old Fletcher Merkel and 10-year-old Harper Moyski and injuring 17 others.

I know I’m not the only Richfield mom who cried and said a prayer for her kids’ innocence as she put ballistic body armor inserts in their backpacks on the eve of the first day of school. That alone should be enough to make every human with a heart stop and ask themselves, “What the hell are we as a society doing to our children?” 

But it’s not.

Fast forward a couple of months, and suddenly the Temu version of the Gestapo is occupying our cities, abducting people from their workplaces, using children as bait to lure family members into custody, and executing moms and ICU nurses on busy streets in broad daylight.

Excuse me, but what the fuck are we doing as a country? We are living a “First They Came For…” poem in real time, with real consequences. The people who voted for this think they're impervious to any of this government abuse, but what happens when a Trump supporter’s kindergartner comes home devastated that their best buddy won’t be at school anymore? 

First they came for the “worst of the worst”, but we have already swiftly descended into the part of the story where they start coming for our children on their way home from school. And as of this morning, Friday, Jan. 30, they’ve started coming for the journalists. 

How many privileged, ignorant MAGA supporters will they eventually come for before hearts and minds will be changed? How many children of diehard Trump supporters have already been traumatized by masked thugs at bus stops and stories of friends being swept away to detention centers unknown?

Though I’m doing everything within my power to resist this fascist takeover and support my family and friends and neighbors, I felt 100% helpless reading that message Thursday about ICE agents on the bus routes. I feel trapped in a nightmare I can’t control, and completely helpless to it all.

With nowhere tangible for my rage to go as I drove home and the image of masked gunmen towering over school children swirling in my head, I screamed into the void. I screamed until my voice gave out, and then I called our congressional representatives and screamed some more.

At some point my screams gave way to sobs and eventually quiet, smoldering resolve. 

Detouring from my route home, I drove to the local library and printed out dozens of copies of a fundraising poster I created to promote an emergency community fund that benefits Richfield residents who do not feel safe to leave their homes right now – the Anne Franks of our time.

These masked terrorists of the state will continue to torment our schools and jobs and places of joy and worship. They will continue to detain law-abiding citizens. They will continue sending our children to concentration camps in other states, causing mothers to scream and sob from desperation. But they won’t stop us from resisting.