There’s an old saying in Texas politics: if you can’t fix a problem, create a new one that sounds expensive. Enter Dallas Mayor Eric Johnson, a man so enamored with federal “partnerships” that he’s now trying to marry local policing to ICE, as if that’s the sequel anyone wanted. You’d think the recent ICE facility shooting that left one dead and others critically wounded might make a city cautious about militarizing immigration enforcement. But no—our mayor looked at that flaming dumpster of tragedy and said, “Hold my memo.”
Within days of his own police chief, Daniel Comeaux, rejecting a $25 million federal offer to join ICE’s 287(g) “Task Force” program, Johnson sent out a letter suggesting the city “explore” doing it anyway. Translation: I heard “no,” but I’m manifesting “yes.”
If this were a sitcom, this would be the cold open before the theme music hits—something jaunty, like “Bad Decisions in B-Flat.” But this isn’t TV. It’s real life in a city that’s already stretched thin, trying to balance public safety with public trust, and the mayor just tossed an anvil labeled DEPORTATION PARTNERSHIP onto that scale.
The Setup: When “Public Safety” Becomes Political Theatre
ICE’s 287(g) program is one of those policy relics that refuses to die. It deputizes local cops as part-time immigration agents—essentially turning beat patrols into border checkpoints with body cams. The so-called “task force” model lets officers perform immigration functions outside of jails, which is bureaucratic code for: “traffic stops that end with someone in handcuffs for existing.”
In Dallas, that’s a recipe for chaos. The city’s own crime-reduction strategies rely on community cooperation—neighborhood councils, immigrant-led outreach, school resource partnerships. People talk to police because they trust them. Now imagine asking the same parents who fled ICE raids in El Paso or Houston to call DPD about a burglary. Spoiler: they won’t.
The mayor’s pitch? It’ll save us money! Because nothing says fiscal responsibility like cutting witness cooperation in half to gain a reimbursement check that won’t even cover the legal fallout.
The “Let’s Explore” Memo: Bureaucratic Mansplaining in Action
Chief Comeaux said no to ICE. Unequivocally. Firmly. Like a grown-up who’s read a budget and a Constitution.
But within forty-eight hours, Mayor Johnson went full “let’s circle back.” His memo to the City Council read like a group project email from the one guy who didn’t do the reading. It urged members to hold a joint session with ICE and DPD to “review potential benefits.” Benefits. As in: Do we get frequent flyer miles for this?
The mayor’s letter made “law and order” sound like a brand partnership. You could almost see the PowerPoint slides:
- Slide 1: “Public Safety Synergy”
- Slide 2: “Federal Integration Opportunities”
- Slide 3: “Trust? TBD.”
Meanwhile, council members Adam Bazaldua, Chad West, Jaime Resendez, and Paula Blackmon dropped the politest version of “What the hell are you doing?” Their joint statement said this partnership would “undermine progress” and “torch community trust.” Dallas rarely agrees on anything, but the idea of deputizing local cops as ICE agents was such a bad take it managed to unite people faster than the Cowboys losing in overtime.
ICE: The Franchise Nobody Asked to Open in Our Neighborhood
Here’s the thing: ICE partnerships don’t work. They look tough, but they’re operational quicksand.
The 287(g) task force model is notorious for blowing up budgets, clogging courts, and—best of all—getting innocent people arrested. Civil rights groups have documented counties across Texas where ICE detainers were issued against U.S. citizens. Some were held for days because of typos, mismatched names, or clerical laziness.
ICE’s reimbursement promises rarely match reality. You get a shiny grant for overtime hours, but then you’re footing the bill for lawsuits, legal fees, and the public relations cleanup after your city trends on Twitter under “#ICEdallas.” It’s the government version of “buy now, cry later.”
And let’s not forget: Dallas is already managing budget shortfalls in public safety, infrastructure, and housing. We can’t even fill potholes without an existential debate. Now the mayor wants to hand local control to a federal agency that literally can’t keep track of its own detainees. Brilliant.
The Politics of Paranoia
What’s this really about? Not safety. Not budget. It’s about political posturing in the age of performative patriotism. Johnson’s proposal doesn’t solve a single local problem—it just signals to conservative donors that Dallas isn’t a “sanctuary” city. It’s the same tired narrative: be seen as “tough on crime,” even if that means creating more of it.
Meanwhile, Greg Abbott’s border deployments continue to siphon millions in state funds, the Trump wing of the GOP is resurrecting “law and order” as a campaign anthem, and the White House is waffling between compassion and control. Dallas doesn’t need to join that carnival. The city’s job is to keep its residents safe—not audition for a spot on Fox & Friends.
But here’s the inconvenient truth: in cities that joined ICE programs, domestic violence reports dropped. Human trafficking cases went unsolved. Communities withdrew from public life. Fear replaced civic participation. ICE didn’t strengthen law enforcement—it poisoned it.
The Human Math: When Fear Becomes Policy
Every cop in Dallas knows that community policing runs on trust. A neighborhood that trusts its officers is a neighborhood that talks. One that doesn’t—locks its doors and turns up the volume.
If the 287(g) model takes root here, mixed-status families will stop calling 911. Victims of domestic violence will stay silent. Witnesses to shootings will vanish. Because in their eyes, that badge won’t represent safety—it’ll represent deportation.
Here’s what Mayor Johnson doesn’t get: fear is not deterrence. It’s decay. And once it spreads, it doesn’t stop. The same immigrant parents who stop calling police today are the ones whose kids won’t cooperate with investigators tomorrow. That’s not a culture war. That’s civic suicide.
The Fiscal Joke: You Can’t Budget for Fear
Let’s follow the money, since the mayor loves to wave that $25 million around like it’s a Powerball ticket.
ICE reimbursements don’t actually cover what they cost. Cities that joined 287(g) found themselves buried in legal bills. Training expenses ballooned. Lawsuits over wrongful detentions drained coffers. And “one-time grants” disappeared the moment federal priorities shifted.
Even if the dollars did arrive, what’s the moral interest rate? You take ICE’s money today, but pay back in decades of mistrust. You trade community cooperation for budget dust. It’s a Faustian bargain where the receipts are printed in handcuffs.
The ICE Shooting That Should’ve Ended This Conversation
Weeks ago, an armed man opened fire on an ICE facility in Dallas, killing one detainee and wounding two others. The incident exposed glaring security failures and left city residents shaken. Instead of asking whether ICE can even protect its own facilities, the mayor is trying to sign local officers up as auxiliary staff. It’s like watching someone invite a raccoon into their kitchen because it looks hungry.
You don’t rebuild civic safety by aligning with agencies that can’t manage their own. You don’t restore trust by outsourcing it. You fix broken systems by strengthening local institutions, not subcontracting them to Washington.
The Dallas We Actually Need
Dallas doesn’t need more task forces—it needs more trust. The city’s real success stories come from partnerships between residents, officers, and communities that talk to each other like neighbors, not suspects.
The neighborhoods that thrive aren’t the ones with the most surveillance; they’re the ones where people feel seen. Where officers know first names. Where safety is mutual, not conditional. ICE doesn’t belong in that equation—it’s the variable that collapses the formula.
So yes, Mr. Mayor, let’s “explore” something. Let’s explore mental-health funding. Let’s explore affordable housing. Let’s explore after-school programs that keep kids off the street and officers out of federal cosplay. Because the only thing 287(g) will multiply is lawsuits, fear, and silence.
The Final Pour: Dallas, Hold the ICE
At the end of the day, this isn’t about left or right—it’s about whether Dallas wants to govern through trust or terror. Whether we want our cops building relationships or collecting immigration data. Whether we see our residents as neighbors or as numbers.
I like my Dallas neat—no ICE, no garnish, no fear. Just a city that remembers who it serves and why. Because once you start calling deportation “partnership,” you’re not leading a city. You’re running a franchise. And Dallas deserves better than a mayor who mistakes cruelty for courage and confusion for policy.
So, Mr. Johnson, keep your memos. Keep your task forces. And if you insist on “exploring,” maybe start by exploring the concept of empathy. It’s free, renewable, and unlike ICE actually keeps people safe.