Two Americas: Why One Voice Still Matters

Before I went to my first protest—the one that ended with multiple Waymo vehicles being set on fire—I did something I never imagined I'd have to do: I printed my passport and birth certificate. Just in case.

Even though I'm a born-and-bred American—my father served in the Coast Guard, uncles in the Navy and Air Force, my grandfather in WWII, and my great-great-grandfather in WWI—it crossed my mind that ICE might not care.

Weird, right? To have to prove your citizenship in your own country.

Recently, someone told me I didn't matter. That what I do doesn't make a difference. That I should just mind my business. But I can't. Not when I see what's happening around me.

Two Different Days

When I arrived at the first protest, the energy was high. People were angry—but largely peaceful. Like any protest, there were some wild cards. That's real. But overall, it wasn't chaos—it was a gathering of voices.

At the "No Kings" protest, something felt different. It didn't feel like a moment—it felt like a movement. It felt like a big family coming together in solidarity. People were handing out masks, water, snacks, compassion—it was peaceful and powerful, and deeply real.

June 17, 2025 no Kings protest (Dennis Flippin Jr on left) picture by Melissa Ferrick.

A Community Raided: Enrique the Paletero

In Culver City, a beloved paletero named Ambrocio "Enrique" Lozano was taken by ICE in broad daylight, just steps from a church where he was selling popsicles. Masked agents loaded him into a white van and left his cart behind. He'd worked the neighborhood for nearly 25 years—known for his kindness, generosity, and connection to the community. The response was swift: neighbors rallied, shared his story online, and helped recover his belongings. It was a chilling reminder that no one is immune—not even someone deeply rooted in and loved by the people around him. Read the full article here.

What's most disturbing is that this happened in California—a blue state often mocked by leaders who don't even live here. They ridicule the state, don't share its values, and yet still impose sweeping changes on its people.

The deserted paletero cart of Enrique, left behind after his apprehension.

When "Fake News" Becomes a Weapon

I'm exhausted by "fake news." It's used to erase real experiences, silence real pain, and discredit inconvenient truths. But you cannot say "nobody feels that way" when the streets—or neighborhoods—are full of people who do. That's why protests matter. They're not about chaos—they're about bearing witness to our shared heartbreak and hope.

Melissa—my girlfriend and creative partner—and I didn't just go to film these protests. We went to experience them. To show solidarity and remind each other that none of us are alone.

Capturing What They Don't Want You to See

I filmed the Waymo protest from beginning to end. When I later stopped by a store, no one had even heard of it—yet national coverage made it seem like L.A. was burning. The contrast was jarring. So I flew my drone around different neighborhoods. The city was calm. Life was normal. That's what transparency looks like.

Let's not forget: they were seriously talking about sending in the Marines. Into California. For protests that anyone living here could see were small and contained. Now that talk has quietly disappeared. It's alarming that the President of the United States had such a distorted view of what was happening here—fed by media outlets that have already been fined nearly a billion dollars for spreading false information. Keep watching your favorite doggy channel.

And they didn't just talk about sending in the Marines—they actually did it. On June 8th, Trump deployed 2,000 National Guard troops and 700 Marines to Los Angeles. By June 11th, a full Marine battalion was on the ground. As of this week, they're still here.

And in regards to sending the Marines, I wonder what else is going on. There have also been drone reports of tanks hidden in shipping yards. Everything seems to be a distraction these days. Who knows what the hell is going on?

If I were a supporter, I'd be upset—because I'd realize I was being lied to. How could the so-called most powerful person on the planet have no idea what's actually happening in a state he's responsible for?

What a waste of resources. The Marines are meant for serious, strategic operations—not protests that don't even threaten public safety. Using them like this isn't just overreach—it's disrespectful to the communities affected and to the Marines themselves.

Protest signs were capturing community sentiment amidst the chaos.

The Deception

We hear that ICE targets criminals. But according to the Cato Institute, 65% of people taken by ICE had no convictions at all, and 93% had no violent convictions.

That tells a different story.

Even more alarming, due process seems optional now. Masked agents without badges are seizing people in public—loading them into unmarked vans and taking them to undisclosed locations. No names. No warrants. No transparency.

I get that there's a process for immigration enforcement. But when that process gets thrown out the window, it affects real people with real lives.

People will say, "Well, they shouldn't break the law." They'll say if you're going to break the law, then agents can come into communities and snatch you up and take you away. But does that mean because they break the law, we break our laws?

For people not in these areas or situations, imagine if masked agents came into your community and started snatching people. It wouldn't be OK just because they look different from you. It's still the same thing.

And I'm not going to pretend I don't see the pattern. While brown-skinned vendors like Enrique are taken off the streets, immigrants from other parts of the world are being welcomed for humanitarian reasons. The difference in treatment is hard to ignore.

Who are they? Where are they? How are they treated?

This evokes dark chapters in history—white vans, no oversight, dehumanization. Let me be clear: if this happened to white folks, I'd still speak out. Because injustice is injustice, and we don't get to look away.

Why We Must Keep Telling the Story

I'm a filmmaker. My role is to document—and to illuminate. Sometimes that means being in the crowd. Sometimes it means using a drone. Sometimes it means saying, We were here. We saw it happen.

Melissa and I didn't set out to be activists. We became them because we couldn't ignore what we witnessed. And once you see it, silence isn't an option.

Our Collective Voices Matter

Storytelling is resistance. It's a refusal to disappear. As Rebecca Solnit said, "The ability to tell your own story is already a victory, already a revolt."

So I'll keep telling mine. I'll keep showing what others miss.

Because one voice does matter. Yours. Mine. Enrique's. All of ours.

We deserve visibility. We deserve dignity. We deserve justice.