A Day in the Life of San José’s Rapid Response Network, Built to Resist ICE Fear

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What once was one of the busiest shopping plazas in San José is now a much quieter place. At Placita Tropicana — located on the corner of Story and King roads — quinceañera dresses still sparkle, pupusas still sizzle and pan dulce is baked fresh every morning.

“But people are too afraid to come out now,” said Elizabeth Ramírez, who works at Joyería Cruz, a boutique and clothing store. “Once there’s a rumor out on social media that immigration agents are at Tropicana, everyone disappears and sales go down.”

And when customers do come in, she said, they’re often scared that Immigration and Customs Enforcement may be nearby. “When I see that look on their face, I give them these cards,” she said, holding up two sets of cards: one red and the other yellow.

The red card, provided by the Immigrant Legal Resource Center, lists in both English and Spanish the rights of individuals during encounters with federal immigration agents. But it’s the yellow card that has a much more direct message: “Protect our community. Report ICE activity!”

The yellow cards are from the Rapid Response Network in Santa Clara County, a coalition of 11 organizations and hundreds of volunteers who work around the clock to verify possible ICE sightings. Many volunteers are immigrants or children of immigrants, all driven by the belief that immigrant families have a home in San José and the South Bay, regardless of their immigration status.

The goal: spread the word about ICE activity as quickly as possible. The network’s hotline connects callers to responders who can confirm or refute rumors of immigration enforcement. If ICE is present, the network swiftly alerts thousands of community members through social media and group chats.

As ICE plans to further expand its operations nationwide — with an additional $75 billion in funding from President Donald Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill — the network is doubling down on its efforts. When not staffing the hotline, volunteers are training neighbors on how to correctly spot ICE, what immigration agents can and cannot do and even how to prepare for a potential family separation. While the Bay Area has not seen immigration raids at the same scale as Los Angeles earlier this summer, volunteers do not want their community to be caught off guard.

“When the rapid response sends alerts, they’re not asking the government for permission,” said Socorro Montaño, codirector of Latinos United for a New America, a San José-based group in the Santa Clara County Rapid Response Network. “In minutes, the network is having a tangible impact on people’s lives … This is people power without having to concede power in the political sphere.”

On a recent Friday morning, Montaño visited Ramírez at her shop to ensure she had enough cards. The network, Montaño said, is only as strong as the community that powers it. “Everybody who has our number saved, everybody who’s ever called us or shared the number with a loved one — they are part of the network.”

“All of this works,” said Ramírez. When she hears a rumor on WhatsApp about ICE moving through San José, she said the first thing she does is check in with the rapid response network. Within minutes, she shares verified updates from volunteers with her loved ones. “You take what you need from this. And for me, it has been an incredible support.”

When they’re not managing the phone lines, Montaño and other volunteers visit local South Bay businesses to hand out cards and educate residents. Their next stop: a jewelry and watch repair shop next door, filled with the high-pitched whirring and humming of polishing machines.

“Yo soy Socorro,” Montaño introduced themselves. “Lo que más me importa hoy es hablarle sobre la red de respuesta rápida.” (“What’s most important for me today is to talk to you about the rapid response network.”)

Luis Urbina, the shop’s owner, had seen the red cards before but didn’t know about the network.

“This whole situation almost paralyzes you,” he said, “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do if I were stopped by immigration. But now I do.”

Who picks up the phone

While Montaño and others spread the word, coalition members stand by for calls to come in. Staffing the hotline is often difficult.

“When you pick up a call, you can hear how anxious people are,” said Carmen Torres, an organizer with Services, Immigrant Rights and Education Network, another group in the coalition. This year alone, the hotline has received thousands of calls. Some are false alarms — people mistaking San José police officers for ICE agents.

But sometimes, callers are overwhelmed by the fear that ICE will separate their family. “People tell us that they’ve been calling everywhere trying to find a lawyer, but no one is taking new cases,” Torres said. “But what more can I say to them then? I think that’s when I feel like the expression, ‘I go to the wall.’”

The demand for immigration lawyers is so great right now in the Bay Area that the network can only mobilize attorneys in urgent situations. Acknowledging the limitation, SIREN also helps families make plans in case a parent or guardian is detained.

“Sometimes people get scared with just hearing that word — plan — because it means thinking that the worst could happen to us,” said María Aceves, who, along with her husband, Eliseo, has volunteered with SIREN and other immigration justice efforts for more than 20 years. “But I tell them that the best thing we can do is to be prepared and research how to prepare and defend yourself instead of staying in your house in fear.”

The fear of deportation is not just affecting San José businesses. In immigrant communities across California and the rest of the country, fewer people are shopping, working or even taking their children to school. Central Valley school districts facing increased immigration enforcement saw an average 22% rise in student absences earlier this year.

“We know that [Trump] will only be in power for four years, but in those four years, they could destroy us,” said Aceves. As an immigrant, she understands the fear others in her community feel but insists that it needs to be faced directly.

“My daughter sometimes tells me to stop coming out to volunteer,” she said. “But I tell her that I’ve done this work for longer than she’s been alive, and I like it … You know what to do in case something happens. I will let God guide me.”

Torres said it feels good to give people accurate information about immigration enforcement so they can continue with their lives. The network’s motto, after all, is “Power, not panic.”

“We don’t know what Trump’s thinking. We don’t know what immigration enforcement is thinking. But we do know what rights we have,” she said. “When we go out to the community, give out information and then come back and pick up the phones, it’s all connected.”

A San José original

As the summer sun rises higher over Alum Rock, a historic Mexican American district, the streets warm. Montaño — joined by two organizers from Amigos de Guadalupe — make their way from business to business to talk about the network.

Some vendors recognized them and showed off their supply of red and yellow cards placed near their front doors. Others received their decks for the first time.

“We all need to have these cards ready,” said María Moreno, a San José resident for over 40 years and owner of a candy store in Alum Rock. “I want to share these with my customers. We need to feel confident walking down the street again.”

Many of the shops in Alum Rock have been owned by Mexican and Mexican American families for generations. But you will also find Vietnamese, South Asian and Colombian restaurants — a reflection of how much of San José’s culture and economy depends on immigrant labor. More than 40% of the city’s population is foreign-born, a percentage higher than both San Francisco and New York City.

For Montaño, protecting the city’s immigrants from deportation is part of what it means to be from San José. Born and raised in the city, one side of their family recently migrated from Nicaragua — while the other has lived in Santa Clara County for three generations.

“I’m a Bay Area kid,” they said. “Almost wherever I am, our community runs so deep and thick that I know I can find trusted people.”

After the 2016 election, a handful of volunteers formed the rapid response network in Santa Clara County. As more groups joined, the network’s reach expanded: both the city of San José and the county now list it as a resource. Similar networks are forming across the country, inspired by the belief that immigrant communities have the capacity to respond to the federal government.

Now, Montaño and others are focused on ensuring this work can be sustained for the next four years.

“A few weeks ago, I was asked an icebreaker question: ‘If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?’” Montaño said. “I answered ‘San José, California.’ This is my home. And this is the home that I’m building.”