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MORTON, Miss. (AP) — Mississippi residents rallied around terrified children left with no parents and migrants locked themselves in their homes for fear of being arrested Thursday, a day after the United States' largest immigration raid in a decade.Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials said 680 people were arrested in Wednesday's raids, but more than 300 had been released by Thursday morning, ICE spokesman Bryan Cox said in an email.Cox said 30 of those who had been released were let go at the plants, while about 270 were released after being taken to a military hangar where they had been brought after the raids. He did not give a reason except to say that those released at the plants were let go due to "humanitarian factors.""They were placed into proceedings before the federal immigration courts and will have their day in court at a later date," he said. Officials had said Wednesday that they would release detainees who met certain conditions, such as pregnant women or those who hadn't faced immigration proceedings previously.A small group seeking information about immigrants caught up in the raids gathered Thursday morning outside one of the targeted companies: the Koch Foods Inc. plant in Morton, a small town of roughly 3,000 people about 40 miles (65 kilometers) east of the capital of Jackson."The children are scared," said Ronaldo Tomas, who identified himself as a worker at another Koch Foods plant in town that wasn't raided. Tomas, speaking in Spanish, said he has a cousin with two children who was detained in one of the raids.Gabriela Rosales, a six-year resident of Morton who knows some of those detained, said she understood that "there's a process and a law" for those living in the country illegally. "But the thing that they (ICE) did is devastating," she said. "It was very devastating to see all those kids crying, having seen their parents for the last time."On Wednesday, about 600 U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents fanned out across plants operated by five companies, surrounding the perimeters to prevent workers from fleeing. Those arrested were taken to the military hangar to be processed for immigration violations.In Morton, workers were loaded into multiple buses on Wednesday —some for men and some for women — at the Koch Foods plant. At one point, about 70 family, friends and residents waved goodbye and shouted, "Let them go! Let them go!"A tearful 13-year-old boy whose parents are from Guatemala waved goodbye to his mother, a Koch worker, as he stood beside his father. Some employees tried to flee on foot but were captured in the parking lot.Karla Vazquez-Elmore, a lawyer representing arrested workers, said even those not arrested were terrified.The Rev. Mike O'Brien, pastor of Sacred Heart of Jesus Catholic Church in Canton, said he waited outside the Peco Foods plant in the city until 4 a.m. Thursday for workers returning by bus. O'Brien said he visited a number of parishioners whose relatives had been arrested, including a 65-year-old grandmother. He said he also drove home a person who had hidden from authorities inside the plant. "The people are all afraid," he said. "Their doors are locked, and they won't answer their doors."Children whose parents were detained were being cared for by other family members and friends, O' Brien said."They're circling the wagons that way and taking care of each other," he said. 3423

NASHVILLE, Tenn. — The current law in Tennessee is clear: The use of deadly force is legal only in instances of self-defense or to protect the life of someone else.Outside of that, using deadly force is illegal. But some lawmakers in the state are seeking to expand those protections to include instances where homeowners would legally be able to shoot someone who stole from them."I think the last year has raised a lot of questions in Tennessee about whether you can use force or deadly force," said John Harris, executive director of the Tennessee Firearms Association.Harris said the thinks the destructive demonstrations and looting in Nashville during protests against police brutality raised some concerns. Now, State Rep. Jay Reedy, a Republican, has filed a bill that would allow a person to use deadly force to protect their property.Harris said that with police occupied elsewhere, store owners under the current law could not use lethal force to stop looting during protests — and people are tired of it."The question is, does the criminal just laugh at them and keep stealing stuff? At some point, juries will say you have the right to defend it, and I don't care what the law says," Harris said.Lawmakers say the bill could address that frustration. But legal analysts say there are some aspects of the bill that are concerning. "The way it is written is very, very vague," said legal analyst Nick Leonardo.Leonardo understands concerns over violent protests, but he calls the bill "vigilante legislation."Leonardo said it could allow a victim — when there is no personal threat — to shoot a theft suspect in the back as he runs from the scene."To be able to just shoot someone because you thought they were taking your personal property is not where America is or we've been in the last hundred years," Leonardo said.Reedy concedes the bill, for now, is vague, and he expects it to be tightened up. But he also said law-abiding citizens have a right to protect their businesses or hard-earned personal property.House Bill 11 is now filed for consideration. If it were to pass in the next legislative session, it would take effect in July of 2021.This story was originally published by Nick Beres on WTVF in Nashville, Tennessee. 2251

MINNEAPOLIS, Minn. -- The re-energized racial justice movement has brought to light more systemic disparities, especially in criminal justice reform.“What we are saying is we have to have a system that does not prejudice people due to their poverty,” said Jared Mollenkof, an executive board member of the Minnesota Freedom Fund. “In reality, if you have enough money, you will always get out.”The Minnesota Freedom Fund started in 2016 as a small operation dedicated to ending cash bail systems. They helped bail out about 67 people last year.Following demonstrations set off by George Floyd's killing, donations started flooding in to help get protesters out of jail. Just since May, they've now bailed out at least ninety people.People all over the world, about 1 million individuals, have donated some million.“We have criminalized everything. We arrest people for bull**** and then we try to force it all through a system that would not be able to keep up, but for the fact that it leaves all these people in cages and counts on the fact that people want to get home,” said Mollenkof.The Minnesota Freedom Fund says getting people out pre-trial now, with COVID-19, is even more important.It says in the past, a third of people it has bailed out have had their cases dismissed.People are less likely to plead guilty when they're not held in custody. They are more likely to keep their job and even tend to get less harsh sentences if they are convicted.The Minnesota Freedom Fund says it intends to use the influx of donations to help arrested protesters.There are similar efforts in other states that you can find through The National Bail Fund Network. 1670

MILWAUKEE — Surveillance video captured two porch pirates on a casual morning stroll. But what they don't know is that the owner of the package they're about to steal actually wants it to get taken. "Usually I get very mad when I see the package get stolen, but now this one I was like proud to show the video," said Jamie, who left a package of sweet revenge on her Milwaukee porch.Out of fear of retaliation, Jamie asked that her identity be concealed and to only use her first name. She says they've had about eight packages stolen from their front porch and have tried everything to fight back. They installed security cameras, asked for signed deliveries and even had items placed behind a fence. But somehow the thieves continued to be successful. Eventually, they decided to have everything delivered to work, but after a gift sent to her a month ago was stolen as well, she decided that was enough. "That's when we ordered the next package," she said. "We went on to a website that does anonymous deliveries and you can pick from all sorts of different fecal matter. The cheapest one is cow, we decided to go in full blast and we chose gorilla." The thieves didn't like what they had scooped up, and ended up tossing the item into a neighbor's yard. But they aren't the only thieves she's caught on camera. Video also shows a woman stealing that gift someone sent Jamie, that contained memorial stickers honoring her late father. "She threw it because it wasn't anything important to her but to me that was the most important package that had been taken off our porch," said Jamie. A neighbor ended up finding the discarded stickers in a nearby park. Jamie says she's tried to report the thefts to police, but she's been told it's a lost cause and the chances of catching these criminals are slim. So she hopes a little package payback will prevent thefts in the future. "We do live in a nice neighborhood," she said. "It's a nice a street, they're nice neighbors, we just don't know why it keeps happening to us."  2106

Mohamad is most at home in the kitchen. The smell of homemade recipes taking him back to the best parts of his childhood. A childhood cut short by violence and unrest in his home country, Syria.“When I walked down the street, I was scared to get a bomb in my head,” said the 24-year-old man. “Even walking from the school to your apartment, you’re not safe. That was very scary for me and my parents and everyone that was in Syria."The Arab Spring forced his family to flee their home in Damascus. “We rent an apartment in another city, and we come back to our house and we don’t find a house. We find it clear, everything destroyed. Some people told my dad, 'Your factory work is gone. It got bombed and destroyed,'” recalled Mohamad.With his father’s business and their home gone, the family moved to Egypt to start a new life. “It was kind of tough, to move to a different country where you don’t know the language. It was tough for me,” said Mohamad.That move was just a preview of the challenges to come. After years of applying, his family was accepted as refugees in the United States.“When I moved to this country, I didn’t speak any word of English. It was kind of, really hard to communicate with the people and learn the culture,” he said.However, Mohamad and his parents were met with resettlement help from a local organization.“They were helping us to find school, to find work,” he said of the African Community Center in Denver.English classes, job coaching, legal help—they were all the services funded by the Refugee Act of 1980. Mohamad was determined to prove that support from the government was worth it.“I used to work four jobs at the same time,” he said. “I used to sleep only four hours, to make this dream happen,” he said of opening his own restaurant to share his family’s legacy.After two years of hard work, he reached his goal of opening his own restaurant.“There is so many opportunities here. I am one of the people who found a good opportunity to open my own business in two years. That was really fast," he said.But Mohamad is worried other families, with dreams just like his, will never find the happiness he’s found.“I was lucky, but if someone who came now to the United States didn’t find this sort of organization, he won’t make it here,” said Mohamad.The organizations that help refugees are starting to slowly shut down, because help for refugees in the United States is at an all-time low.When the Refugee Act of 1980 was created, the United States took in more than 200,000 refugees, but since then, that number has eroded steadily.2021 will set a record-low for the program, allowing only 15,000 refugees to come to the United States, and with cuts to refugees allowed into the country, come cuts to the programs that help them out once they arrive.“If the programs keep taking cuts with no recovery, we’re basically removing our ability to take in refugees and support them, which I think might have been there point of the cuts. But I don’t think that’s who we want to be as Americans,” said Dr. P.J. Parmar, a physician at the Mango House, a shared space for refugee medical care and refugee-run small businesses.The Mango House is an independent health clinic, so it isn’t affected by the cuts to the refugee program directly. Parmar said the cuts to federal refugee programs over the decades are forcing centers across the country to shut down.Many services now falling more on independent providers like Dr. Parmar than ever before. It’s a trend he hopes won’t continue.“I think a lot of folks hear the word ‘refugee’ and they think, ‘Oh these are dirty people we don’t want to take care of,’ but the refugee story is the American story,” said Parmar. “All of us, unless you’re Native American, you probably have some sort of refugee background.”Mohamad and Dr. Parmar are hoping families across the country will think of their own stories when they see places like the Mango House thriving in their own communities.“When I moved over here, I had a goal in my mind, and I think it’s similar to anyone…I worked so hard to get something for me and my family, that’s my dream.”A dream he hopes more people will get the chance to have. 4192