Professor Faces Six Years for 'Conspiracy' to Oppose ICE Raids

Professor Faces Six Years for 'Conspiracy' to Oppose ICE Raids

Erik Davis was yanked from his car by federal agents in St. Paul on a June afternoon, shackled in a belly chain, and arrested on charges of conspiring to obstruct Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers. The 53-year-old Buddhist studies scholar at Macalester College is one of 15 people indicted in a sprawling case that legal experts say reflects a troubling government pattern: using vague conspiracy statutes to criminalize ordinary activism.

The indictment does not accuse Davis of committing violence. He did not assault anyone. He did not threaten ICE agents. His alleged crimes amount to attending meetings about protest tactics, sharing information about demonstrations in Signal chats, and facilitating what prosecutors call an "emergency meeting" for residents after two people were killed during ICE operations in the Twin Cities.

Yet Davis faces up to six years in prison.

"This isn't just about us," Davis said. "It's about trying to scare everybody who opposes ICE."

The case emerged from the chaos of January 2024, when federal immigration agents flooded Minneapolis in a surge of enforcement operations following the Trump administration's return to power. Outrage rippled through the city. Residents organized rapidly, forming neighborhood networks, documenting ICE movements, running know-your-rights workshops. Davis, long involved in labor organizing and police brutality activism, felt compelled to participate.

"It was a federal invasion and terror campaign on our streets," he said of the raids. "The behavior of these masked thugs was horrific. They were ripping human beings out of families."

What prosecutors describe as a criminal conspiracy to "impede or injure" ICE officers, Davis describes as community members exercising basic citizenship: organizing, protesting, discussing civil disobedience. The government's 94-page indictment leans heavily on the rhetoric and ideology of some defendants to paint all 15 as part of a coordinated plot, tying the group loosely to "antifa" and citing anti-authoritarian statements Davis made in private chats.

The case mirrors prosecutions pursued against protesters in Chicago, Texas, and elsewhere this year. In Chicago, the case collapsed spectacularly. In Texas, demonstrators were convicted on terrorism charges and sentenced to decades, though that case involved an actual shooting. The Minnesota indictment contains no allegations of injury to any ICE officer.

At a press conference announcing the charges, U.S. Attorney Daniel Rosen said physical harm was irrelevant to the prosecution. Instead, prosecutors appear focused on the act of organized opposition itself.

Natasha Rakotz, 45, a home health aide, faces even steeper charges. Beyond conspiracy counts, she is accused of deliberately colliding with an ICE officer's vehicle in May. Rakotz has denied the allegation. State police initially cited her for a minor traffic violation at the scene. Local prosecutors later dropped the misdemeanor, and federal prosecutors took over, now charging assault on an officer with potential injury. The indictment provides no victim identification, no injury details, and no account of vehicle damage.

"I really believe these charges are going to get dropped because they're unfounded and ridiculous," Rakotz said. "But I feel like the process is the punishment."

Other defendants face accusations ranging from participating in a March protest where some demonstrators allegedly threw projectiles at sheriffs, to following a federal agent into Wisconsin, to urging others to obtain firearms. Again, the indictment does not allege Davis participated in any of these acts. Civil rights lawyers say the strategy of bundling disparate individuals and acts under a single conspiracy charge serves to intimidate broader movements.

The toll on defendants has been immediate and severe. Davis has struggled with sleep and anxiety. He worries the case could damage his academic career. A strict "no contact" order separates him from several close friends also facing charges. The uncertainty gnaws at him daily.

"They are trying to ruin our lives," Davis said. "I try not to remind myself all the time that the consequence of this bureaucracy is my freedom."

The government has declined to comment on specifics of the case. A Department of Homeland Security spokesperson pointed only to a prior statement warning that those who "lay a hand on law enforcement" will be prosecuted "to the fullest extent of the law" - a characterization that bears little resemblance to Davis's actual conduct.

Davis maintains his confidence the charges will fail. But he recognizes the real damage has already been done. "It seemed weird and laughable," he said of the indictment. "It felt like the length of the indictment was a cover for how thin it actually was. I'm a professor. I've seen people pad out papers when they've got nothing to say."

Author James Rodriguez: "This is prosecutorial overreach dressed in the language of counterterrorism, and it's designed to chill lawful dissent before the chilling even begins."

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