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Like something out of a movie

My experience in Los Angeles during ICE raids

October 2, 2025

I love going down to California. For me, Los Angeles usually means sunshine, sports fans piling onto the Metro and the constant buzz of Union Station. It’s vibrant, chaotic and alive. It’s where I feel at home. But on a recent trip, everything felt different. 

When I arrived at Union Station on a Friday, it was nearly deserted. Normally the place is full of people partying, high having a good time. But that evening, there was a tension in the air that I couldn’t put my finger on. People stared at me and my suitcase like I was a blissfully naive tourist who was unaware the apocalypse had just started. I remember thinking: Something’s about to happen, and I don’t know what. 

By Saturday, June 6, federal immigration raids had sparked protests that swept through downtown Los Angeles. Parts of the core were under curfew, and the whole area felt locked down. I was on the Metro heading toward Long Beach when I started to notice things were off. At stops near city hall, protesters were getting on and off, while waves of other passengers — people who weren’t used to transit —crowded in, trying to get away from the demonstrations. The tension in the cars was electric and soon fights started to break out. 

As I passed through Compton, I saw something out the window I’ll never forget: an armoured ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement)vehicle, like a tank with a cannon spout, parked in front of a house. About five or six men in full military gear stood in formation. Neighbours were out on their porches, watching. On the train, passengers were talking about how it reminded them of the L.A. riots in the ’90s. It was like something out of a movie — and I was watching it unfold in real life. 

When I got back to Long Beach that night, I saw graffiti that read “No ICE” scrawled across a wall. At my hotel, the guy working the desk said the fireworks going off outside reminded him of the riots, when the whole city was on fire. Sure enough, not long after the fireworks, a fleet of police cars arrived. From my window I could see them racing past. 

The next day, I was back on the Metro, this time heading toward Santa Monica. A group of protesters carrying signs got on, and a woman nearby asked them, “Is it worth it?” The protester answered without hesitation: “It’s worth dying for.” 

That stuck with me.

Los Angeles didn’t feel like the city I know and love. Usually it’s so full of life. This time it felt sombre, like a Cold War. People were on edge. I even saw ICE and military personnel staying in my hotel. The maids didn’t show up for work the next day. I can only imagine why.  

Still, I keep going back. I even wear my Canada shirt when I travel — and people always comment on it. “Oh, so nice,” they’ll say. I like advertising where I’m from, because the reactions are usually warm. Border guards even recognize me. I think they appreciate my dedication.  

Despite everything, I still love America. The people — even the border agents — have been kind to me, and I’d love to be a Californian. And as a public transit advocate, I’ll always ride the Metro, no matter what. Even if there was a zombie outbreak, I’d probably still go.  

Louise Boilevin is a born-and-raised  Vancouverite. She’s involved in outreach work at WISH Drop-In Centre, which provides services and a space for women involved in Vancouver’s street-based sex trade. She is a member of The Shift peer newsroom. 

Published in Megaphone magazine on October 3, 2025