CBS Colorado anchor Karen Leigh told viewers there is “community outrage” in Eagle County after troubling allegations tied to Immigration and Customs Enforcement operations in the mountain region.
Leigh said the arrests happened in EagleVail and Minturn, near Vail, and that advocates claim nine Latino community members were detained.
What set this case apart, Leigh explained, is what was allegedly left behind inside the vehicles: ace of spades cards, which she said are often known as “death cards.”
CBS Colorado reporter Jasmine Arenas picked up the story from there, reporting that the accusations are not just about the detentions themselves, but about what the cards may signal – fear, intimidation, and a message meant to linger long after the agents were gone.
It’s hard to overstate how loaded a symbol like this can be, because a playing card is not just paper when it’s used as a calling card in a law enforcement operation. It becomes a statement, whether the people involved admit it or not.
And when that statement lands inside a family’s car after someone has been taken away, it doesn’t feel neutral or routine. It feels personal.
Alex Sánchez Says It’s “Disgusting” And “Racist”
Arenas spoke with Alex Sánchez of Voces Unidas, who described the alleged card-leaving practice in blunt terms.
“It’s disgusting. It’s racist,” Sánchez said, reacting to what families reportedly found later inside the vehicles connected to those detained.
Arenas reported Sánchez’s claim that ICE detained nine Latino community members on Wednesday, and that family members later found ace of spades cards left behind in the cars.
Sánchez framed the entire situation as something bigger than enforcement, telling Arenas, “This is not about public safety, it is about fear and control.”
Arenas said Sánchez also argued the ace of spades has a history tied to intimidation, which is why, in his view, this detail can’t be brushed off as a prank or a misunderstanding.
Sánchez didn’t just criticize the agents or the agency. He aimed his frustration at the silence around it, calling on local leadership to respond.
“We need every elected official and local law enforcement leader serving Eagle County to publicly denounce these actions,” Sánchez said, adding, “Silence is not neutrality, it is complicity.”
That last line hits because it forces a choice on public officials: either treat it as serious and speak, or say nothing and let the community assume the worst.
A Tow Truck Driver Says He Saw The Scene Up Close
Arenas didn’t rely only on advocacy claims. She also spoke with Jose Acevedo, a tow truck driver who said he captured moments of the operation on video after he realized what he was watching.
Leigh told viewers Acevedo went to retrieve cars, realized it was an ICE operation, recorded what he saw, and refused to move the vehicles.
Acevedo told Arenas, “I’ve never witnessed anything like that in my life.”
Arenas reported that Acevedo said ICE pulled vehicles over, then left them behind.
“They left the vehicles on,” Acevedo said. “They left the vehicles with the emergency hazard lights on and just loaded them up and took off.”
Arenas added that Acevedo said he heard a woman crying and watched as she was handcuffed, and he believed officers showed no compassion in the moment.
Acevedo described the emotional impact of watching it unfold. “Them just not caring about it and just loading them up,” he said. “It was – it’s a little emotional.”
Arenas said Acevedo remembered feeling helpless, which is why he decided to record and warn the community using social media.
Then he took his stance even further. Arenas reported that once Acevedo realized it was an ICE operation, he refused to tow the vehicles, even if it cost him his job.
“I’m not going to step in those shoes and ruin people’s families or their lives like that,” Acevedo told Arenas. “I’d rather ruin my own and get fired.”
That’s a remarkable thing to hear from someone who isn’t a politician, isn’t an activist by trade, and isn’t giving a speech. It’s a working guy describing a moment that felt so wrong he would rather risk his own livelihood than help it continue.
At the same time, Arenas was careful to include a key limitation in Acevedo’s account: he said he did not check any vehicles and cannot confirm what was left inside.
Acevedo admitted the moment itself stuck with him. “It was just a surreal moment that I got to see and witness,” he said, “that I wish I didn’t.”
DHS Says ICE Condemns The Conduct And Is Investigating
Arenas reported that the Department of Homeland Security responded with a statement saying ICE is investigating and condemns this kind of conduct.
Arenas said a DHS spokesperson stated that ICE condemns “this type of conduct,” and that the incident is being reviewed.
Leigh later added a specific detail from the agency side: she said DHS claims the ICE Office of Professional Responsibility will conduct a full investigation and take appropriate action if misconduct is found.
On paper, that sounds like what the public expects to hear – condemnation, investigation, accountability.
But there’s a credibility problem that follows cases like this, and it’s not just about whether an office opens a file.
It’s about whether anyone outside the agency will ever see meaningful results, because communities don’t calm down simply because a statement includes the words “thorough” and “appropriate.”
The public wants to know practical things, even if the agency would rather keep it vague: Who left the cards? Were they official? Were they printed or placed as a pattern? Was it discipline-level misconduct, or treated like a minor issue?
Arenas did not present DHS as confirming the advocates’ claims. Instead, she reported the agency position: condemn the action, investigate the situation, and promise action if wrongdoing is found.
Still, the gap between “we condemn it” and “we can prove what happened” is where anger grows, especially when the symbol involved is as threatening as a so-called “death card.”
Why The “Death Card” Detail Feels Like More Than A Rumor
Arenas’ reporting shows why this story isn’t just about one odd allegation. It’s about how enforcement is carried out, how communities interpret it, and how quickly trust can collapse when intimidation is even suspected.
Sánchez described the alleged cards as a tool of fear. Acevedo described the operation itself as cold, fast, and emotionally unsettling, with crying, handcuffs, and cars left behind like abandoned props.
Even if someone tried to argue it was “just a card,” the context changes everything. A card left in a car after a detention does not read like a joke to the family who just watched a loved one disappear.
It reads like a warning.
And in a tense climate, symbolism becomes fuel. People don’t need a long explanation to understand what an ace of spades is being used to imply when it’s called a “death card” on the evening news.
The most troubling part, honestly, is how avoidable this should be. If ICE is serious about professionalism, then it should not take a media storm for the agency to say, “This is unacceptable.”
That standard should already be baked in, enforced from the top down, and obvious in how agents behave in public view.
Instead, the community is left trying to piece together what happened from advocates, witnesses, and official statements that promise investigations while giving few answers.
What Comes Next For Eagle County Residents
Arenas ended her report by saying Voces Unidas is urging local leaders to speak out and asking community members to document and report ICE activity when it’s safe.
That’s a signal that this story is not fading. It’s becoming part of a broader community memory – something people will talk about when they see a traffic stop, a tow truck, or a sudden cluster of federal vehicles.
Leigh’s final note about the Office of Professional Responsibility investigation suggests the federal response is now formally underway.
But for the families affected, the investigation isn’t the first thing they feel. They feel the empty seat at home, the car left behind, the fear of what happens next, and the sickening idea that intimidation might be treated as a tactic.
Arenas’ reporting makes one point painfully clear: if federal agents want cooperation and legitimacy, they can’t act in ways that look like threats, even indirectly.
Because when enforcement starts to feel like punishment-by-symbol, the public stops seeing law enforcement. They start seeing power without restraint.
And once a community reaches that conclusion, it’s not a press statement that repairs it. It’s accountability people can actually see.
Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, John developed a love for the great outdoors early on. With years of experience as a wilderness guide, he’s navigated rugged terrains and unpredictable weather patterns. John is also an avid hunter and fisherman who believes in sustainable living. His focus on practical survival skills, from building shelters to purifying water, reflects his passion for preparedness. When he’s not out in the wild, you can find him sharing his knowledge through writing, hoping to inspire others to embrace self-reliance.
