ICE Leadership Shake-Up Drives Tougher Colorado Immigration Climate

(DENVER, COLORADO) A sweeping ICE leadership shake-up that began on October 24, 2025 has ousted Denver Field Office Director Robert Guadian and several other senior officials, with the Trump administration moving to install hardline Border Patrol veterans in their place in a shift expected to ratchet up Colorado immigration enforcement and deepen fear in immigrant communities. The overhaul, which initially targeted five large cities, including Denver, Los Angeles, Philadelphia, Phoenix, and San Diego, is part of a broader plan to accelerate arrests and removals, according to accounts from administration officials and immigration observers.

Guadian, who was reassigned to Virginia days before the purge, had made his mark in Colorado quickly. In July 2025 he oversaw a regional operation that ended with 243 arrests in the Denver area, including nine alleged violent gang members. At the time, he said that many of those detained had been released by local jails because of Colorado’s “sanctuary” policies, an argument that put him at odds with local officials and immigrant advocates who warned that broad sweeps were sowing panic far beyond any targeted enforcement. His abrupt removal and transfer underscore how rapidly the agency is turning toward a model shaped by senior Border Patrol leaders known for aggressive tactics.

The push to replace ICE leadership with Border Patrol brass was spearheaded by DHS Secretary Kristi Noem and senior adviser Corey Lewandowski, according to accounts described by people familiar with the moves. One person with direct knowledge of the shake-up framed it as a blunt directive from the top.

“The administration wanted all these guys fired and Todd [Lyons, acting ICE Director] stepped in and said, ‘Let’s move them all to headquarters,’”

said an unnamed official familiar with the personnel changes. The result is a slate of new appointees who, critics say, are likely to widen the net, moving away from a focus on people with criminal records and toward arresting anyone lacking legal status, regardless of their history or family ties in the United States.

Among the most prominent names floated for top posts is Gregory Bovino, a former head of the Border Patrol’s El Centro sector, whose methods have drawn sharp rebukes from civil rights groups and attorneys. Columnist and attorney Mario Nicolais described Bovino this way:

“Raids under [Greg] Bovino’s leadership have been among the most controversial. From marching heavily armed officers through children’s summer camps in Los Angeles to midnight raids in Chicago, Bovino has become the avatar for brutality in immigration enforcement.”

In a recent legal clash, a federal judge ordered Bovino to testify after he personally threw tear gas into a crowd, behavior that allegedly violated court orders, according to court records cited by critics of the appointments.

The policy turn is already shifting what day-to-day enforcement looks like in Colorado, advocates and local officials say. In one recent incident, a Douglas County School District employee and her family were detained during a routine check-in and sent to Texas, a case that jolted educators and parents who had considered scheduled reporting to ICE to be a relatively predictable process. Those kinds of arrests are multiplying, immigrant groups contend, as new ICE leaders direct teams to prioritize speed and volume over case-by-case discretion, a hallmark of earlier guidance that placed emphasis on public safety threats.

The Trump administration has set aggressive internal targets—600,000 deportations by January 2026 and quotas of 3,000 arrests per day—according to people briefed on the changes, and the Colorado front lines are feeling the pressure. The heightened tempo is part of what some legal observers describe as a more permissive environment for stops and questioning. Under what critics have labeled the “Kavanaugh Stop,” named after Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh, federal agents can now stop and question people based on race, ethnicity, language, or even where they are, such as at bus stops or big-box store parking lots, according to accounts from attorneys challenging the practice. Civil rights groups warn that such tactics invite widespread racial profiling.

Nicolais, who has tracked the policy shift, said political imperatives are overshadowing operational judgment. He argues the ICE leadership changes are “more interested in optics and politics than good policy,” and warned that “the wave of officially sanctioned violence facing our friends and neighbors is about to grow exponentially.” His criticism reflects broader alarm among Colorado lawmakers and community leaders who say the knock-on effects are immediate: families keeping children home from school, workers skipping shifts, and local economies absorbing sudden, unexpected disruptions.

School officials in western Colorado report that nervous parents are changing daily routines and avoiding public places. Rep. Meghan Lukens, chair of the Colorado House Education Committee, said the ripple effects from ramped-up activity are harming students and families.

“No one should ever fear that their family will be ripped apart while going to work or dropping their children off at school, but increased ICE activity on the Western Slope has done exactly that — leading to a decrease in school attendance,”

said Lukens. Attendance dips have left teachers scrambling to keep students engaged and on track, and administrators say some families have shifted to informal homeschooling out of fear they could be stopped during school runs.

Construction firms, a sector heavily reliant on immigrant labor, have also been hit during the same period, according to industry tallies. Between June 2024 and June 2025, Colorado shed about 5,100 construction jobs. Nearly one in four construction companies reported losing workers because of federal immigration enforcement. About 5% of firms said immigration agents visited their job sites, and 7% reported workers leaving or not showing up for work due to “actual or rumored immigration actions.” Contractors say cascading delays are putting multimillion-dollar projects at risk, pushing deadlines into winter months and jeopardizing financing tied to completion milestones.

On the streets, friction between federal agents and local law enforcement has intensified. In Durango, the police chief requested a Colorado Bureau of Investigation review after masked ICE officers allegedly attacked protesters outside an agency facility. City officials said they want a clear accounting of what happened and why local officers were not briefed in advance about federal operations that drew demonstrators. The episode underscores a widening trust gap: local agencies answer to residents who expect transparency, while federal teams now rotating through the state prioritize speed and operational security as they chase daily arrest quotas.

Guadian’s tenure provides a window into the new approach—and why his removal is being read as a harbinger rather than a reversal. When he announced the July sweep of 243 arrests, he highlighted nine alleged gang members as emblematic of the operation’s purpose. But attorneys and advocates say the majority were longtime residents without serious criminal histories, some with U.S.-citizen children and mortgages, who were detained at work or outside their homes. The debate over how to describe that cohort—public safety risks or community members caught up in indiscriminate dragnets—now frames the arguments around who will be the face of ICE in the Rocky Mountain region.

Inside the agency, the ICE leadership shake-up is being cast by the administration as a move to unify strategy and put Border Patrol-tested leaders in charge of removal operations. Supporters of the change argue that using officials molded by high-intensity border deployments will bring discipline and clear priorities to an agency they see as too hesitant in past years. Critics counter that it collapses important distinctions between border interdiction and interior enforcement, replacing measured discretion with broad sweeps and shock tactics that erode trust and make community cooperation with police more difficult across the board.

Colorado’s legal landscape compounds the tension. State lawmakers and city councils have enacted policies that limit local cooperation with federal immigration enforcement, arguing that public safety depends on immigrant residents feeling safe reporting crimes and serving as witnesses. ICE leaders argue those rules effectively shield removable individuals and force federal teams to make more at-large arrests in neighborhoods, courts, and workplaces. As leadership rotates in and Border Patrol veterans assume command posts, those flashpoints are likely to sharpen, with officers pressed to meet aggressive numbers in jurisdictions where local backing is thin or openly hostile.

Economists warn that the labor effects now visible in construction could spread to hospitality, agriculture, and food processing during peak seasons. When workers vanish for fear of being detained, restaurants cut hours, farms leave rows unpicked, and processing plants slow shifts, rippling out to suppliers and local tax revenues. Hospitals and clinics report rising “silent demand”—missed appointments and delayed treatments—when patients are afraid to drive. Social workers say they are seeing more children showing signs of anxiety and sleep problems as parents stress-test contingency plans in case a breadwinner does not come home.

For families like the Douglas County employee who was detained after a routine check-in, the new rules mean predictable touchpoints with the government no longer feel safe. Attorneys say they are advising some clients to move check-ins to different cities or to bring notarized guardianship forms and emergency plans to every appointment. Others are telling clients to avoid places where immigration agents have reportedly been active, including bus depots and parking lots outside big-box stores. Under what opponents call the Kavanaugh Stop, critics say these everyday locations have become magnets for questionable stops, especially for people who speak limited English or look and sound foreign to passing agents.

With the five-city rollout set in motion, immigration advocates expect the leadership template to extend to more field offices in the coming weeks. Denver’s central role as a transportation hub makes it a likely staging point for transfers to southern detention centers, a practice that makes legal defense harder as detainees move far from families and lawyers. For now, the mood across Colorado’s immigrant communities is brittle. Community centers are holding legal clinics, school counselors are coordinating safety plans with parents, and some employers are arranging transportation to minimize risks. Faith groups are reviving volunteer networks built during past surges, organizing meal deliveries and childcare for families if a parent is detained.

The administration’s targets of 600,000 deportations and 3,000 arrests per day loom over those preparations. Even if those figures prove aspirational, immigrant rights groups say the attempt to chase them changes behavior in ways that will be felt across classrooms, worksites, and courtrooms. Nicolais argues the premise is political pageantry rather than good governance, insisting the real costs will be measured in families disrupted and public safety frayed. His contention that the moves are “more interested in optics and politics than good policy” is a reminder of how sharply divided the debate has become.

As Colorado braces for the next phase, uncertainty dominates. Guadian’s departure, the likely arrival of Border Patrol-standard leadership, and the escalating operational tempo are combining to reshape the state’s immigration landscape. Whether the strategy ultimately meets the administration’s goals or triggers legal and political backlash that slows it down remains to be seen. What is clear from the first week is that ICE’s footprint is growing, local officials are bristling, and the people most affected are adjusting daily life under a darker, more unpredictable sky. For details on ICE operations and policies, the agency’s official website, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, offers updates and public notices, though lawyers and advocates caution that practice on the ground is changing faster than any formal guidance.

For those watching the Denver field office, the personnel changes are more than a reshuffle. They signal a model that elevates volume and deterrence, a standard set by figures like Bovino whose reputations precede them. Whether this approach answers the region’s needs or simply magnifies its strains is the question now confronting school boards, city halls, and job sites from the Front Range to the Western Slope. In the meantime, the ICE leadership shake-up has put Colorado immigration enforcement on a new course, and for families already weighing every drive, every drop-off, and every paycheck, the stakes could not feel higher.