Killed, Then Vilified by the State

I don’t follow U.S. politics particularly closely, but as I have watched what has unfolded in Minneapolis, an awful bleakness has settled over me, alongside a rising sense of anger and injustice.

This month, two U.S. citizens were shot dead by federal immigration agents in Minneapolis. Their names were Renée Good and Alex Pretti.

In any democratic society, a death at the hands of the state should trigger an independent inquiry. Until the facts are fully known, those involved should step back from duty, and any official response should be careful with its words and respectful of the victims and their families. This should be basic due process.

And yet, what I heard from federal sources in the immediate aftermath of these killings made my blood run cold. Both victims were publicly described as “domestic terrorists” by senior figures in the federal government before any independent investigation had taken place. Those claims were later challenged by families, local leaders, and video evidence, and I cannot help wondering how different this would look if there had been no bystander footage to challenge what was said.

People who appear to challenge power, particularly on behalf of the vulnerable, are now being treated as enemies of the state. That is deeply unsettling.

The language used by the Trump administration, including terms such as “domestic terrorist” and “illegal alien,” has a purpose. It dehumanises real people. It strips away dignity, context, and complexity, and it makes cruelty easier to justify. When this language comes from the very top of government, it feels like a moral boundary has been dismantled.

I understand there may be operational reasons for agents to conceal their faces, but if masked men with guns were on my street, I would not feel safe or protected. I would feel threatened, vulnerable, and afraid.

My background meant I grew up assuming the state existed to keep me safe, and the truth is that I rarely questioned that. Watching what has unfolded in Minnesota has forced me to imagine what it might feel like to fear authority.

In Renée, I recognise the panic of a moment when fear overwhelms reason, and the body reacts in ways that do not keep us safe. I believe she was afraid.

In Alex, I see the impulse to protect others. To stand up for people he believed were being treated unjustly. He loved his dog, loved the outdoors, and worked in a caring, demanding role. He was propelled into activism by his sense of justice. He believed what federal immigration agents, including ICE and Border Patrol, were doing was wrong. He could easily have been someone I counted as a friend.

They are both dead, and the response from the federal government upon their deaths feels dystopian.

Americans should be worried. Two people are dead at the hands of federal agents, and what followed showed a chilling lack of restraint and empathy, and carelessness with the truth. The pressure to accept what is happening without question is actively reinforced by some within conservative culture, where people are being told that loyalty requires them to override their own moral instincts.

In the days that followed, there was a fierce public backlash, and only then did the administration change its tone. It has since been confirmed that two of the agents involved in Alex Pretti’s killing are now on administrative leave, after their status was initially described differently. That does not undo what happened, and it does not restore my trust. From where I stand, the narrative only began to change once people refused to accept what they were told.

I wish, with all my heart, that more people would pause, question, and try to ascertain the actual truth, and then allow their conscience to decide their stance. But what I saw in Minneapolis was brutality. If we stop insisting on the truth, we become easy to control. And if we ignore state brutality, we surrender our integrity and become complicit.