(BROADVIEW, ILLINOIS) At least 68 protesters arrested since October 3, 2025, during demonstrations outside the Broadview ICE processing center near Chicago have cycled through area jails and courts in recent weeks, facing charges that range from petty offenses to felonies and describing sharply different treatment during and after arrest. The Illinois State Police, local sheriff’s deputies and federal agents have enforced the line around the facility as protests have continued, with police and the Department of Homeland Security saying they moved in when demonstrators blocked entrances and confronted officers.
The arrests have unfolded around the Broadview ICE processing center, a longstanding flashpoint for immigrant-rights groups, families of detainees and local advocates. Law enforcement officials, including the Cook County Sheriff’s Office, said the arrests were made to keep paths clear for ICE agents and facility staff after incidents of protesters blocking doors and vehicles. The Department of Homeland Security accused demonstrators of “blocking the entrance to the ICE Broadview building and assaulting law enforcement.” Organizers said they intended peaceful civil disobedience, but accounts from the ground describe sporadic clashes, injuries and a handful of serious charges amid mostly low-level citations.
Among those taken into custody was Lee, a Black woman protester who said she was arrested by Illinois State Police on two Class A misdemeanor counts of resisting a police officer—offenses punishable by up to a year in jail and a $2,500 fine—and cited for disobeying a police officer, a petty offense.
“I was asking them to let me go, and reinforcing that I hadn’t did anything I wasn’t allowed to do,” Lee said of her arrest.
She was escorted to a curb, placed in a police vehicle, booked, fingerprinted, photographed and held in a cell with other female protesters for about five hours before release. Her court appearance is scheduled for November 25, 2025. In a description of her fears after the arrest, the account states: “She worried about going to jail and whether the conditions would be clean and safe. She also worried about whether she’d be treated differently as a Black woman in the legal system.”
Mills, who was cited by Illinois State Police for disobeying a police officer and is also due in court on November 25, 2025, said he walked toward the facility deliberately to make a point.
“I walked up there with my hands out to my side, declared myself very openly, and said I’d like to enter the facility. One hundred percent it was just to show an example of us.”
He described being restrained with zip ties and escorted to a curb to wait about 10 minutes for a police van. He was then processed at the station and given a citation. Looking back on his arrest, he said, “I think it’s just an over-policing example… Mills has no regrets protesting and getting arrested because he’s standing up for his beliefs.”
While most protesters were released within hours with misdemeanors or citations, some faced more serious allegations. On September 27, 2025, Paul Ivery, a Chicago-area high school cafeteria worker with an intellectual disability, was charged with felony assault of a federal officer after allegedly threatening agents at the protest. The charge drew a visible response from his community: his mayor and other supporters showed up in court to argue he was not a threat. Family spokesperson Scott Sakiwama said of Ivery’s motive for being there: “Ivery was there to protest against ICE because he believed that ICE agents were disrespectful towards the Broadview Police Department and veterans.” After two weeks of advocacy and a review of his circumstances, the felony charge was dismissed, offering a contrast to the routine misdemeanor bookings that have defined most of the arrests.
The Illinois State Police and local agencies have said their priority was safety and access, pointing to moments when demonstrators moved from chanting and holding signs to surrounding vehicles and blocking gates used by ICE staff. Protesters and observers reported that some people were struck and placed in handcuffs after blocking ICE vehicles. At least one demonstrator required ambulance transport for medical care after being injured during the protest. Earlier confrontations saw the deployment of tear gas and rubber bullets by federal agents, and one protester was seen throwing a tear gas canister back at ICE agents. In a separate incident, a tire was slashed on a Department of Homeland Security vehicle, raising tensions that further fueled charges beyond simple citations.
Those processed by police described a standard sequence: booking, fingerprinting, photographs and several hours in holding cells before release, with court dates set for later in the fall. Legal experts following the arrests noted that when federal charges are brought—such as assaulting a federal officer—defendants can be presented in federal court as soon as the same afternoon. But they also observed that the vast majority of cases related to the Broadview protests involved petty offenses and misdemeanors in state courts, not the kinds of serious federal crimes that typically lead to lengthy detention.
The sweep of protesters arrested, and the array of charges filed, reflect a tactical line that authorities say they are trying to hold while protests persist in the area. The Cook County Sheriff’s Office has emphasized that blocking access points to the facility and engaging in confrontations leaves police with little choice but to clear people and make arrests. DHS echoed that in its account, maintaining that demonstrators had crossed into unlawful conduct by “blocking the entrance to the ICE Broadview building and assaulting law enforcement.” Advocates argue that aggressive tactics escalated otherwise peaceful protests, pointing to injuries and the reported use of tear gas and rubber bullets as evidence that enforcement was disproportionate to the threat.
Inside local courtrooms, names like Lee and Mills now sit on dockets set for late November, while the quote-heavy paper trail from these streetside encounters grows. Lee’s case, with two Class A misdemeanor counts of resisting a police officer and a petty offense citation for disobeying orders, highlights how a simple disagreement over movement at the curb can carry penalties of up to a year in jail and a $2,500 fine. Mills’ citation for disobeying a police officer represents the lower end of the scale—punishment that typically involves fines rather than jail time—though he says the experience underscores what he views as an unnecessary show of force. Organizers fear that even minor charges chill participation in future events at the Broadview ICE processing center, because many supporters worry about job repercussions and immigration consequences for themselves or family members if they are arrested.
The protests have also pushed the debate into the statehouse. Illinois lawmakers approved a ban on civil immigration arrests in and around state courthouses and created a path for residents to sue immigration agents for constitutional violations. State Sen. Celina Villaneuva, a Democrat from Chicago who championed the measure, framed it as a step to give people confidence that they can attend court without fear of immigration detention.
“This bill is about giving people a sense of safety, a sense of humanity, and the assurance that their government sees them and will stand up for them,” she said as the legislature advanced the bill.
For organizers, that move is one of the only direct policy shifts to come amid months of rallies and vigils around the facility.
Accounts from the ground describe a protest scene that changes by the day, with quiet periods of prayer and songs interrupted by sharp confrontations at gates as vehicles come and go. In some instances, protesters lined up in front of vans carrying ICE agents or attempted to walk onto the property. Those were the moments that most often led to protesters arrested by the Illinois State Police and local deputies. Witnesses recounted quick takedowns, plastic zip-tie restraints, and lines of demonstrators seated on curbs awaiting vans, followed by the usual booking process and release with a slip of paper listing court dates. Others recalled the pop and sting of rubber bullets and the sight of a tear gas canister arcing back toward federal agents after one protester picked it up and threw it.
The legal outcomes vary as quickly as the scenes on the sidewalk. In Ivery’s case, community support played a clear role, with his mayor and neighbors pushing for a second look after he was accused of a felony for an alleged threat to a federal officer. Two weeks later, his charge was dismissed. For Lee and Mills, both expected in court on November 25, 2025, the path runs through the local system, where misdemeanors and petty offenses are handled in quick hearings that can end in fines, deferred prosecutions or short probation. The difference between a quiet exit from a courtroom and the risk of jail time can hinge on how a judge interprets an encounter that lasted a few seconds at the curb.
Law enforcement’s messaging has focused on keeping routes open for staff and ensuring the functioning of the facility. The Broadview ICE processing center is a hub for processing and transfers in the Chicago region, and its operations have drawn regular protest for years. Federal officials say security demands are non-negotiable. Advocates call Broadview a symbol of policies they oppose and a place where families come to say goodbye as loved ones are moved. The collision of those aims is now playing out in case files and medical reports, including at least one protester who was transported by ambulance after being injured during the protest, and a report of a slashed tire on a DHS vehicle that raised tempers on both sides.
The stakes for those who end up in handcuffs are immediate, even when the charges are relatively minor. Lee’s description of fear over jail conditions and whether she would be treated differently as a Black woman underscores how the experience of being taken into custody can be shaped by race and identity, not just by the letter of the law.
“She worried about going to jail and whether the conditions would be clean and safe. She also worried about whether she’d be treated differently as a Black woman in the legal system,” the account reads.
The Illinois State Police’s presence at Broadview has also become a topic of debate, with some locals questioning the deployment of state resources while troopers defend their role in assisting with crowd control and ensuring access for workers.
As court dates approach, defense lawyers are preparing to argue that individual acts did not rise to the level alleged by charging documents, while prosecutors will point to video and officer testimony about blocked entrances, slashed tires and scuffles at the line. Legal experts say that while federal charges carry the potential for swift detention and a harder path, “most cases” from the Broadview protests have involved minor offenses when compared to more serious federal crimes. That divide was visible in the quick dismissal of Ivery’s felony case after two weeks and the steady flow of misdemeanors assigned to local courts for the rest of the protesters arrested.
For ICE and its parent agency, the Department of Homeland Security, Broadview remains a critical site in the Chicago area. Their stance is that order must be maintained and that protests cannot be allowed to obstruct operations. For protesters, the site is exactly where they want to be visible. Nonprofit groups, faith leaders and students continue to gather on sidewalks outside the facility, often holding signs and chanting from a distance, and sometimes stepping forward to test the bounds of police tolerance. Their actions, and the responses by the Illinois State Police and local authorities, have shaped a rolling contest over public space and speech that now sits before judges across Cook County.
The agency at the center of the protests, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, outlines its mission and enforcement structure on its official website, which includes policies for detention and field operations. That public information is a frequent touchstone for both supporters and opponents of ICE’s work, which is why the broader debate around Broadview resonates far beyond the sidewalk. For more on the agency’s remit and procedures, see the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement page at U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
As of November 2, 2025, the tally of at least 68 protesters arrested since early October anchors a protest movement that shows no sign of stopping. The next key date is November 25, 2025, when Lee, Mills and others are due in court to answer the charges tied to their actions outside the Broadview ICE processing center. Their cases will add to a patchwork of outcomes that includes citations, dismissed felonies, and open questions about the line between protected protest and the moment police say a crowd becomes a hazard. What happens inside those courtrooms will help determine whether the tactics seen on the curb—zip ties, quick bookings, and the steady presence of troopers—become a fixture of future demonstrations or begin to fade as the legal fallout settles.
The U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement page at ICE.gov (policy) is available at the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement page at ICE.gov (policy).
This Article in a Nutshell
At least 68 protesters have been arrested since October 3, 2025, outside the Broadview ICE processing center near Chicago. Arresting agencies — Illinois State Police, local deputies and federal authorities — say actions were taken after demonstrators blocked entrances and confronted officers. Most arrests resulted in misdemeanors or citations with short detentions; a handful led to federal-level charges, including one felony later dismissed. Protesters and advocates report injuries and aggressive tactics; court hearings on November 25, 2025, will determine many outcomes and influence future demonstrations.
