Over the weekend, tens of thousands of cyclists came together for memorial group rides in honor of ICU nurse Alex Pretti, who was killed by federal agents in Minneapolis on January 24. There were gatherings in some 300 cities around the globe, spanning more than 15 countries and nearly every state. Find moving photo galleries and heartfelt reflections from riders at a dozen events here…
Header photo by Drew Arrieta
Passionate cyclist and ICU nurse Alex Pretti was tragically shot and killed by masked CBP agents in Minneapolis, Minnesota, on January 24. Just days later, his local shop, Angry Catfish, organized a group ride to remember Alex and offer a space for healing, unity, and joy in the once-peaceful city that continues to be terrorized by thousands of anonymous agents kidnapping, brutalizing, and murdering community members in the streets. Organizer Jarrod Alder enlisted designer Casey Robertson to create artwork for the event and shared it widely, hoping others would coordinate rides in their cities.
There was an unprecedented outpouring of solidarity and support, well beyond the borders of this deeply confused country, and hundreds of independently organized rides sprang up, from Seattle to Sydney and Boston to Brussels. I attended the ride here in Boulder, Colorado, where close to 1,000 people from all walks of life showed up to pedal in memory of Alex Pretti, Renee Good, Keith Porter Jr., Silverio Villegas González, and the many others who have been killed by unknown agents from ICE, CBP, and DHS. We asked participants from a dozen rides to capture their experiences in words and photos, which we assembled into the emotional and inspiring collection below.
Before moving on to the ride reports, I want to share a statement sent by Alex’s family:
“We would like to thank all of the riders who took part in the We Ride in Remembrance of Alex Pretti event this past weekend. We especially would like to thank the Angry Catfish bike shop in Minneapolis, the organizers of this wonderful worldwide event, and the many other bike shops and organizations around the world. Alex loved his bikes and called us many times, talking about customizing his bikes.
The overwhelming response and support of riders from around the world is comforting, and we will never forget this. Alex wanted to make the world a better place for all, and he would be so happy seeing the incredible support from the close-knit biking community. The global participation of the cycling community in this event demonstrates that there still is goodness in this world.
We are so proud of Alex. Thank you all very much.”
—Susan, Michael, and Micayla Pretti
Seattle and Tacoma, Washington
Henry Elholm @hank_is_crank
I grew up an avid cyclist in the Twin Cities and have always found community through riding bikes. I’ve been following along with the progression of the ICE takeover in Minneapolis since day one, tracking the never-ending cycle of bad news and hearing firsthand stories from family and friends watching our once-vibrant city torn apart. My hometown is being used as a testing ground for mass deportations, where virtually any non-white person is at risk of being torn from their home and kidnapped, while legal observers are being maced, beaten, and gunned down for documenting such injustices. Witnessing these acts of cruelty against citizens and non-citizens alike has been devastating.
After Alex Pretti, an avid cyclist and VA nurse, was murdered at the hands of ICE in Minnesota last weekend, cities across the United States came together in his honor to participate in the bicycling event, “We Ride in Unity.” I attended two of at least 10 rides held across Washington State alone.
On Friday night, I left my apartment in Tacoma and drove up to Seattle to meet with some friends for the first of these two events, a ride hosted by Critical Mass in Downtown Seattle. We packed up our bikes in Columbia City and pedaled to meet the group at Westlake. When we arrived, I was shocked at the sheer number of cyclists who’d shown up. Hundreds of riders from various biking communities banded together in solidarity, even on this dark, cold January night.
Upon arrival, one of the ride organizers gave a short eulogy over a megaphone in honor of Alex, and shortly afterward, we took to the streets, fueled by a communal desire for change. Equipped with bike lights, reflective vests, and anti-ICE signs ziptied to our bikes, we weaved through several neighborhoods in Seattle. The energy was palpable, with many drivers stuck waiting for us at intersections meeting us with thumbs up, smiles, and honks of support.
After riding for several hours and over 20 miles, we split off from the still massive group around 11 p.m. to get some food and drinks at a local bar in Chinatown. While locking up our bikes, a worker from the bar came out and offered us free drinks, thanking us for protesting—something he and his friends didn’t feel comfortable doing.
The following morning, I continued the momentum by returning to Tacoma to participate in another city-wide ride hosted by Goldspoke, Opalescent Cyclery, 2nd Cycle, and Tacoma Kind Rides. I arrived at the community cycling center, where a large crowd had already amassed, seeing many friends I’d met at previous community rides. We then embarked on a casual ride around Tacoma, eventually making our way to Wright Park in the center of town. Various speakers came forward to express their gratitude and their inspiration for taking to the streets that day. I stood and listened to their testimonies, inspired by the convergence of so many communities in solidarity around a common goal: to keep cities safe and welcoming to the immigrants who make our country so great.
Over the past few years, I’ve moved several times—from Duluth, Minnesota, to Portland, Oregon, and now Tacoma, Washington. Through local rides, I’ve always been able to meet people, build friendships, and find a real connection to my community. Reflecting on this past weekend, I feel that connection even more deeply. Biking is so much more than transportation; it makes communities safer, healthier, and more equitable for all. “To get to any one of us, you have to go through all of us.”
St. Louis, Missouri
Cameron McMurtrey @cameronmcmurtrey
On Saturday in St. Louis, Missouri, around 130 members of the cycling community stepped out in support of the global Alex Pretti solidarity/ICE Out rides. Despite strong headwinds and 16-degree weather, the ride proceeded across town to the John J. Cochran Veterans Hospital. Spirits were high, and the sense of community was overwhelming. People brought coffee, hot chocolate, and tea, and passed out cups to whoever was thirsty. Hugs were given, community bonds strengthened, and the spirit of progressive hope uplifted everyone on the ride.
There was community representation from all corners of the bicycle universe. Fixed gear bike-polo bikes rode alongside touring gravel builds. Kids rode next to elders. It was a moving and powerful experience to see a group ride, which many of us participate in each week, become politically poignant, supporting a cause we feel so strongly about. No administration, agency, or department can take away the community spirit that we share, and the ride on Saturday further proved just that.
Boise, Idaho
Luke Tokunaga @luketokunaga
On Saturday, January 31st, in Boise, Idaho, the biking community gathered at the Boise Bicycle Project for a memorial ride in solidarity with Minnesota’s Angry Catfish bike shop, honoring the memories of Alex Pretti, Renee Good, and all those affected by federal immigration enforcement.
It was inspiring to see the Boise community come together to show support and send love to Minnesota. I heard someone mention that roughly 650 people showed up for the ride—an incredible turnout here in Idaho. Seeing the streets filled with cyclists, bystanders cheering, and cars honking in support as we rode through was truly moving.
Big thanks to everyone at the Boise Bicycle Project for organizing the Angry Catfish memorial ride and for being a welcoming, safe space for the community.
Fort Collins, Colorado
Tessa Rehbein-Machmer @tesss_fotos
On Saturday, riders in Fort Collins, Colorado, came together to join a worldwide movement and ride in solidarity for Alex Pretti. Alex Maltese, founder of non-profit Fort Collins Gravel People, led the organization of the ride in our community. The ride began with voices from local organizations, including Arboretum Coffee, CWS Fort Collins, and Alianza NORCO, which empower and celebrate immigrants who are deeply valued members of our Fort Collins community.
More than 200 people responded to the event online, and by the time the ride began, some 1,200 riders had gathered. The Fort Collins cycling community came together across generations, with families and riders of all ages riding a loop along Laporte Avenue and the Poudre Trail, starting and ending at Lee Martinez Park.
Fort Collins has always been a city with bikes woven into its identity. It was powerful to see our cycling community show up in unity against the injustices that have occurred. We love and care for our neighbors and deeply value the rich and diverse culture that immigrants bring to our city.
The world has felt heavy lately, and we hope these rides continue to draw attention to the violence and injustice perpetuated by ICE and serve as a catalyst for meaningful reform. We will continue to stand by our neighbors, as Alex Pretti did, because we know our community is stronger and better because of our immigrant neighbors. We stand together. We ride together.
Minneapolis, Minnesota
Andrew Nepsund @purple_muddler
A Minnesota-sized uffda. It’s hard to put into words how difficult the first month of 2026 has been for our Minneapolis community. It’s even harder to put into words the juxtaposition of an armed force terrorizing our neighborhoods and how inspired I am by how our community has stood up to this cruelty. We have fought against hate with peaceful protest, legal observation, and love. I’ve always been proud to be from here, but right now it’s different. To see our community stand up to this type of terror, to see them organize in a way I never knew possible, and to see them take care of one another is something I will never forget.
As we arrived at Washburn Fair Oaks Park on Saturday afternoon for the Alex Pretti Unity Ride, I couldn’t help but notice a collective “wow” escaping in puffs of breath through our various face coverings—it was around 10º F. Seeing thousands of fellow cyclists come together for this was truly mind-blowing. I had mentally prepared to ride bikes with a thousand people, but this surpassed all expectations. The bottom line is, Minnesota shows up no matter how cold it is.
When the time came, we all rolled out. It was slow going at first, but we sang, we chanted, we caught up with old cycling friends, and we waved at neighbors who had stepped out into the cold to show their support for Alex. About a mile or two in, we hit a bottleneck on the route, and things slowed down. Wondering why we’d slowed, I looked up to see Glamdoll Donuts and realized where I was. I looked to my right, and there was Alex’s memorial.
The street was lined with folks cheering and thanking us for being out there. That’s when it really hit me: we were here because a fellow cyclist had been unjustly taken from our community. Fighting back tears—I didn’t want them to freeze to my face—I paid my respects and pushed on. Less than two miles later, we arrived at Renee Good’s memorial, and the emotions hit again. To be in those places was very moving, and it all felt very real. We’ve seen what happened on our phones, and to be in those places, surrounded by like-minded friends, brought up a lot of sadness and anger. It could have been any of us.
Between the two memorials, a good friend who was a ride marshal asked my riding buddies and me to take over an intersection for him so he could race ahead and make sure a busier intersection was covered. We obliged, thinking we’d be there for 10 or 15 minutes. We poured hot chocolate, and for at least 45 minutes, we stood in awe of the steady stream of cyclists. We couldn’t believe how many folks were out. When the ride sweeps finally got to us, we were all thankful we had the opportunity to direct traffic and bear witness to 5,000 or so cyclists whizzing by. You’ve heard of “Minnesota Nice,” so you know most of them said thank you.
Our ride ended at the VA hospital, where Alex cared for veterans as an ICU nurse. There were hundreds of donuts waiting for everyone, hot coffee, and an open mic for folks to share what was in their hearts. I didn’t take advantage of the open mic, but if I had, I would have thanked each and every person who had a hand in organizing a ride like this. It was no small feat. Going from the seed of an idea to what we witnessed on Saturday does not happen without a community of folks who care deeply. And for around 300 of those rides to happen across the world is a reminder that Minneapolis is not alone.
On behalf of Minneapolis, thank you for riding with us. ICE OUT NOW.
Austin, Texas
Talib Abdullahi @blackhistorybikeride
When the call went out for a nationwide day of action in solidarity with those affected by ICE, Austin’s cycling community answered. With just five days to plan, we organized what some of our city’s most experienced social ride leaders estimate was over 1,000 riders, potentially one of the largest social bike rides in Austin history.
The morning started at 40°F, which for Austin is frigid. But Lee from Eastside Pedal Pushers welcomed us to his bike shop, even building a fire pit to help keep everyone warm before we rolled out. Despite the cold, the sun was shining, birds were chirping, and you could feel the determination in the air. Everyone knew why they were there. Brandon Grant, our ride safety lead for all Black History Bike Rides, did an incredible job organizing volunteer ride marshals who showed up just 45 minutes before departure for a safety briefing. Given the last-minute nature of everything, the coordination was remarkable—a testament to Austin’s deep well of experienced ride leaders who stepped up without hesitation.
It was beyond special seeing every corner of Austin’s cycling community come together for this ride. Mountain bikers, gravel riders, road cyclists, racers, commuters, pedicab operators, wheelie bike crews, collectors on vintage frames—every scene was represented. Austin has a thriving cycling scene with countless groups, and it’s rare for them all to gather for the same purpose. Watching that unity unfold was powerful.
As a Black-led organization focused on Black history, we recognize that the path to justice is a long one. The unjust treatment of those who stand up to authority, especially for people of color, is a cycle that has persisted for generations. While our hearts were heavy for the lives recently lost in Minneapolis, we also used this moment to speak the names and honor the lives of several black and brown individuals around the country who have been killed by ICE recently. For us, this wasn’t just a ride; it was a refusal to let these names be erased by the same systems that have historically targeted our communities.
We rode from the East Side down iconic E. 6th Street, regrouped at Wooldridge Square, rolled through the Capitol grounds, and headed back east on Congress. Our finish line was Pan Am Park, where we joined the Stop ICE Rally led by elected officials Greg Casar, Jaime Talarico, Gina Hinojosa, and others. The rally already had about 5,000 people. We were proud to add nearly 1,000 more on two wheels.
All over the city that day, people stopped to watch a massive group of cyclists riding peacefully together, chanting, smiling, and standing up for what’s right. It felt like its own statement—something reminiscent of civil rights marches, but on bicycles. Through the simple act of cycling together, we created a moment that mattered. Austin’s cycling community met the moment with a scale and unity that won’t soon be forgotten. It was a clear-eyed demonstration of what happens when we stop riding alongside one another and start riding for one another.
Berlin, Germany
Josh Meissner and Matt Massara @joshm.de @plonk_around
Following the ICE occupation of Minneapolis from across the Atlantic, Renee Nicole Good’s murder was horrific and enraging, but Alex Pretti’s execution felt like a deeply personal attack. Inspired by Angry Catfish’s call, I got in touch with folks from Steppenwolf and Roter Stern, and along with Pizza Gravel, we mobilized through social media while the flyer circulated through various Berlin chat groups.
An astonishing 70+ riders rallied on Saturday, despite the freezing conditions, demonstrating that Berlin cyclists stand not only with Alex Pretti’s community but with all victims of ICE and the people of Minneapolis fighting the bipartisan deportation regime. Their fight is relevant to us, since in Germany, we also need to defend ourselves against similar racist demagogy as politics shift to the right across the spectrum, in which migrants, antifascists, and people who stand in solidarity with the Palestinians and other oppressed peoples are threatened by increasingly harsh repression, persecution, and deportation.
Baked goods were shared around at the start in Kreuzberg as all sorts of cyclists streamed in. We collected over $300 in donations for Respond Crisis Translation, an NGO that provides crucial language support to asylum seekers and people detained by ICE. We thought it important not only to show symbolic solidarity but also to provide material support for the fight against ICE. Then our convoy rolled toward the US Embassy at the Brandenburg Gate for a group photo, hymns of resistance blasting from a big-ass speaker on a cycle truck in our midst.
While ICE is not out of Minnesota yet, the deep community organizing and massive protests, combined with work strikes—supported by international solidarity—are pushing back against the administration’s overstep. Minneapolis shows the power of the organized people to resist authoritarianism. In these dark times, many of us are glad to be a tiny part of this ray of hope.
Anchorage, Alaska
Cameron Sanders @renaissance.cyclist
On Saturday, more than 200 riders pedaled fatbikes five miles through a snowy winter wonderland in the foothills of the Chugach Mountains around Anchorage, Alaska. This ride, like so many others, was born from the rallying cry of Angry Catfish. Upon seeing their call, I reached out on social media to the Anchorage Fatbike Group to see if anyone was organizing a memorial ride for Alex Pretti. I got a lot of “I’d ride with you” comments, but nothing official came up. Dave Rodewald Schneider, a fellow fatbiker, dropped into my DMs and said that he’d take up the mantle of co-hosting an event if I would. That was all the motivation I needed. Thank you, Dave.
Like so many others, I’m an immigrant to these Dena’ina Lands. I choose to be here for the bike community and the incredible year-round riding Alaska offers. Anchorage is a home where nature sets the rules, and community is forged by them. Riders here are constantly using social media to stay up to date on conditions and the best routes to access the backcountry. While we have incredible networks of volunteer-groomed winter singletrack, we also bike ever-changing frozen streams and rivers to reach new playgrounds. It’s a scene not quite like anything else I’ve ever experienced.
I spent the day before our memorial ride brazing up a new jumbo rack for the Alaska-made 24 x 6.2″ hyper-fattie in my quiver. My partner, Lei, spent seven hours hand-making donuts. We had hot coffee and donuts along for the ride. While the enemy has malice in their hearts for our brothers and sisters, we have baked goods and badass bikes. I like our odds.
As always, Anchorage riders showed up. We showed up to remember Alex and the many others who have suffered at the hands of ICE. We showed up in gratitude for these lands, our freedoms, and for our neighbors in Alaska and across all lands. We showed up to remember and remind one another that our joy cannot be stolen from us. Our bikes fight fascists.
Salt Lake City, Utah
Josh Hicks and Denver Smith @joshhicksss @denvaar
“However you arrive today, you are welcome here. It’s okay to be deeply saddened. It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to be confused, frustrated, and exhausted. Look around, you are not alone.” These were the words spoken to a crowd of nearly 500 cyclists at the start of the unity ride in Salt Lake City on Saturday.
Over the last several years, through online communities in the vintage mountain bike and off-road bicycle realms, I’ve been in regular communication with Jeff Frane of Wilde/Bike Jerks in Minneapolis, always sharing bikes and parts back and forth. As of late, I’ve found myself extremely tuned in to the accounts he’s been sharing firsthand, only blocks away from where the recent events have been unfolding. The moment I saw the invitation on the Angry Catfish post about the Alex Pretti ride, I wasted no time waiting to see who would stick their hand in the sky locally, and I created a post minutes later.
Knowing the genuine ethos of Angry Catfish, Jeff, and the broader Minneapolis cycling community, I was sure that Salt Lake City would match that authenticity and ignite in joining arms, bringing their hearts out on their sleeve just as Minneapolis is doing in their community. As we rode through the heart of downtown in critical mass tradition, several hand-painted flags hung from bikes, each reading “Where is your spine?” “F*ck ICE, fight back,” and “ICE out of SLC.” Other signs mounted to handlebars and racks had phrases such as “Utahns protect our neighbors,” “Salt melts Ice and we have a sh*tload of salt,” “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten we belong to each other,” “One of us is all of us,” “Holland 1945 America 2026,” and “No Secret Police.” Riders arrived wearing Minnesota sweaters and nursing scrubs to honor Pretti and his work at the VA; families brought toddlers on cargo bikes; there were puppies mounted on racks; and others rode scooters and rollerblades.
Our ride started in Liberty Park, on purpose. We rode directly to the Capitol building, also on purpose. We moved together as one to honor Alex Pretti, Renee Nicole Good, Keith Porter Jr., and the countless others who have been recklessly taken from this world. To gather is to stand against. To honor is to heal. To unite is to move forward and take action. As one community member who joined us said, “Today was the most I’ve felt a part of a community here in my 10 years being in this city.” That is the power of solidarity in dark times such as those we face right now in America.
Marfa, Texas
Sarah M. Vasquez @sarahmvasquez
It was a no-brainer for Mark Scott to organize a ride for unity in Marfa. There’s a cycling community in this region, so it’s pretty common to see someone riding their bike around town or along the scenic Ranch Road 2810, also known as Pinto Canyon. Mark rides daily, participates in bike races, and hosts a weekly slow ride that encourages cyclists of all levels to join on Wednesdays (weather permitting). When he saw Casey Robertson’s post about the memorial ride on Instagram, he immediately wanted to be a part of it. He posted the flyer for the Marfa event and hoped people would show up.
There were over 30 cyclists in attendance, some traveling over 100 miles from Terlingua. There were small protest signs that said “Chinga la Migra” and “Think Rain, Not Ice” on bike spokes. One rider passed out blue heart stickers that were put on helmets and faces. A few people arrived without bikes, but still wanted to show their support. It was a somber reason that brought this ride together, but the afternoon’s vibe felt encouraging. I’ve photographed a few rides in the past, most notably the annual Marfa100 bike race and the Full Moon Sushi Ride, but this one felt different.
Living 60 miles from the port of entry, Border Patrol is a daily presence in our town. We all know someone who works for them. Their trucks pass by regularly, and there’s a checkpoint we all have to go through whenever we head back north from the border communities or Big Bend National Park. While it can feel like we live in a bubble in this remote part of the state, their presence is a stark reminder of the current political moment. I’ve lived in Marfa for over 12 years, but the ICE raids have made me think twice about traveling alone as a Mexican-American.
The group of cyclists rode 5.5 miles on Saturday through the neighborhoods from the Presidio County Courthouse to Pinto Canyon Road. Mark told me there was a heaviness that everyone was aware of, but the ride itself felt nice. The sunny afternoon gave us a nice reprieve from the harsh winter weather. People were catching up with old friends, making new introductions, sharing stories, and making small talk. To Mark and me, this group and the thousands of people who rode across the world revealed that there’s power in community if we band together, even for a bike ride.
Athens, Georgia
Mark Babcock @mrbabcock
When I saw that Alex Pretti had been killed, my heart broke. And when it came out that he was a member of the bike community, it hit even harder. I didn’t know him, but I felt I knew a lot of people like him. I was pleased to see first Angry Catfish, then QBP, Salsa, Surly, 45NRTH, Wolf Tooth, etc. come out strongly on the side of right, so when Angry Catfish put out the call to organize rides in solidarity with the people of Minneapolis, I knew we had to show up in Athens, Georgia.
Athens bike shop, The Hub Bikes, is a friend and client of mine, so I called owner Brian Molloy and asked if we could host a ride from the shop. He agreed immediately, no questions asked. We put out the word on social media, and the response was fast and mostly very positive. The forecast called for snow, which felt like a sign—like a little piece of Minnesota had come down here. Also, because we don’t have much road plowing, we decided to make it a mountain bike ride to minimize risk.
The weather on the day of the ride was ugly, with temperatures hovering in the low-to-mid-20s. The roads were covered in slush, but snow accumulated heavily on unpaved surfaces. Nevertheless, around 30 riders turned up. We began with a group photo and a call for good folk to prevail over bullies:
We ride today because Alex Pretti can’t ride today, because he was killed for standing up to bullies.
In him, I saw me, and I saw you. Because we are good. And we stand up to bullies.
We ride today to show our little town that we have their back. That we will stand up to bullies.
To those we have lost, may their memories be a blessing to the good and a curse to the bad.
Be safe. Be smart. Take care of each other.
At the midpoint of the ride, we held a moment of silence and listened to the snow fall. I’m incredibly grateful to everyone who showed up, to Brian and the team at the Hub, and to Nick Dale from Condor Chocolates/Choco Coffee for providing hot coffee before and after the ride. I hope this outpouring of support from around the world gives Alex’s people some measure of comfort. And please know that while we rode for Alex, we have not forgotten the many others who have fallen victim to the current administration. Much love from Athens.
Gunnison, Colorado
Neil Beltchenko @neil_beltchenko
What does democracy actually mean? That’s a question I’ve had to ask myself recently. I’ve always believed in the beauty of a democracy, where each individual has a voice, and each voice is treated equally. Lately, I’ve been mad. Angry. Sad. Honestly, depressed. Because I no longer feel like we’re living in a truly democratic nation. Our rights, both constitutional and human, are being attacked quickly and, at times, violently. And there was no clearer violation than Alex Pretti being executed a week ago.
The news of yet another killing on the streets of Minneapolis, just weeks apart, has only amplified that anger. People, observers, friends, and families are being terrorized, and fear is spreading through one of the best cities in the world. It’s devastating that Alex was killed the way he was, and that this became a tipping point for so many, but enough is enough.
Over the weekend, we pedaled in unity for Alex, for the injustices faced by so many in this country, and for those currently being held in detention centers for no reason at all. We did so peacefully and respectfully. More than 300 group rides across the world were moving in the same direction. I was part of one here in Gunnison, and it felt so good to bring the community together, to ride with like-minded, thoughtful people united in purpose.
That doesn’t mean we aren’t angry. We are. But I’m grateful to organizer Sierra Cucinelli for creating space to channel that anger constructively, by giving us a platform to write to our democratic leaders—some we agree with, some we don’t. Because, in many ways, that feels like our last hope in this nightmare. And while I’m terrified of our electoral process being undermined, I still have hope that democracy will prevail. If Saturday was any indication, the world is ready for change. And if nothing else, the ride for Alex gave me optimism that the people truly do have a voice, and damnit, we’re going to use it!
Find Resources and Take Action
In the wake of yet another tragedy at the hands of ICE and CBP and their unjust campaigns throughout our communities across the country, we encourage you to take action. You can send a note to your local representatives demanding a stop to their raids and attacks by using this pre-filled form from the American Civil Liberties Union; call your elected officials using this script from 5 Calls; support Minnesota’s MIRAC, COPAL, Unidos MN, or the Immigrant Defense Network; donate to one of many vetted mutual aid groups doing essential work on the ground in Minneapolis via Stand with Minnesota; and check on your friends and loved ones, help defend your immigrant neighbors, and fill the streets in peaceful protest to demand justice.
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