What’s up juggalos, juggalettes, and federal-building sidewalk philosophers — it’s your boy BeZerkaveli here, and I spent Tuesday night doing what a lot of people don’t bother doing anymore: showing up in person to see what’s actually happening, instead of letting the internet decide the narrative for me.

On Tuesday, January 13, 2026, I pulled up to the Bishop Henry Whipple Federal Building at Fort Snelling in Bloomington, Minnesota, where ICE is holding detainees, to document one of the regular protests happening outside the facility. I arrived around 7:30 p.m. and stayed until about 10:00 p.m. The crowd wasn’t huge — maybe 50 people max — but it was loud enough to be heard, and organized enough to make ICE uncomfortable.

And honestly? That’s kind of the point.

A small crowd with a big mouth (and good reason)

This wasn’t one of the daytime protests where you’ll see bigger numbers and more foot traffic. This was colder, darker, and smaller — the kind of night protest that draws people who actually mean it.

The vibe was pretty peaceful overall. People were angry, sure, and nobody was pretending otherwise. There were plenty of vulgarities thrown ICE’s way, and there were definitely chants comparing them to Nazis — but there wasn’t chaos, rioting, or some wild “mob” situation like authorities love to imply whenever the public shows up to oppose them.

The best part of the night wasn’t even the chants — it was the megaphone roasting.

Some of the protesters had megaphones and were absolutely cooking the ICE agents with the kind of brutal, sarcastic commentary that only comes from people who are sick of being lied to. It was funny, it was sharp, and it was effective — because mockery is powerful when the people in power are trying to project fear.

Then came the show of force… for no real reason

At some point, the mood shifted — and it wasn’t because the crowd suddenly turned violent.

It was because ICE and law enforcement decided to escalate.

A warning came over the intercom: stay on the sidewalk or be subject to arrest. That warning wasn’t just aimed at protesters either — it applied to journalists as well. The message was clear: compliance or consequences.

From where I was standing, most protesters were already on the sidewalk — exactly where they are legally allowed to protest. But some people were closer to the curb, and a few were in the street.

That’s when we saw it: officers lining up, then moving in formation toward the crowd.

Not responding to violence.
Not reacting to an emergency.
Just moving forward like they were “taking space” because they felt like it.

The pepper spray incident

The most disturbing moment I witnessed wasn’t a brawl, or vandalism, or some “riot” — it was how casually force was used against someone who wasn’t doing anything that justified it.

A woman ended up getting pepper sprayed while recording. She was only about a foot from the curb — close enough that she might have genuinely believed she was still on the sidewalk, or at least in a legal safe zone. It happened fast, and I don’t know what happened to her afterward.

I may have it on video — and if I do, that footage matters, because it’s the difference between “claims” and proof.

Flash-bangs and pepperballs: intimidation, not control

ICE and law enforcement also deployed at least two flash-bangs.

I was wearing ballistic headphones, so the “disorientation” effect didn’t really work on me — but that doesn’t change what flash-bangs are for in a crowd situation. They’re not there to “keep the peace.” They’re there to create panic, confusion, and fear.

And then came the pepperballs.

Here’s the part that people need to understand: you can tell when pepperballs have been used, because the white powder residue ends up visible on the pavement. That powder isn’t snow. It isn’t salt. It isn’t foam. It’s chemical irritant residue — and it was right there on the ground.

From what I observed, they were shooting the pepperballs mostly at the pavement — either intentionally (to spread irritant without direct hits), or because they just sucked at aiming. Either way, the effect is the same: it turns a public protest into a controlled zone where breathing becomes optional.

The “neutral observer” problem

I went there as an observer and photographer. I support the right to protest and I’m not hiding that, but I also wasn’t there to manufacture a story or play hero. I wanted to document what happened in real time — the kind of thing that gets rewritten later by people who weren’t even there.

That’s why I pay attention to details: where people were standing, what warnings were given, who escalated first, and what tools were used.

Because those details are the story.

And for the record: being told to stay on the sidewalk “or be arrested” is not crowd safety. It’s crowd management. It’s intimidation. It’s a warning shot, legally phrased.

The duck: the calmest object in the middle of the ugliest energy

At one point, I realized I had a rubber duck in my pocket.

No big plan. No intentional symbolism. I just had it.

But once I noticed it, I knew it had to be part of the documentation — because it was the most peaceful object imaginable, sitting in the middle of a scene defined by state power, surveillance, and threat-posturing.

It reminded me of something personal too: my mom’s old tattoo artist, Lanny, used to travel for work and take a teddy bear with him to photograph in different places around the world — like a little marker of presence, a weirdly wholesome proof-of-life.

So I did my own version of that.

A rubber duck on cold pavement, in front of a federal building where human beings are being detained, while a small group of protesters stand outside yelling “ICE OUT,” and law enforcement decides that this is the moment for pepper spray, flash-bangs, and pepperballs.

That contrast is the whole story.

And yes — Status Coup was there

At one point, I got interviewed by Status Coup News, which is a partner of the MeidasTouch Network. That’s worth noting because it confirms something important: this wasn’t some isolated “fringe incident.” Media was present. Documentation was happening. People were watching.

Which makes the escalation even dumber.

Watch my interview by clicking here.

Final thoughts

Tuesday night wasn’t a riot. It wasn’t a war zone. It was a small crowd of maybe 50 people standing outside a federal building in Bloomington, Minnesota, doing what Americans are supposed to be allowed to do: speak freely, protest government action, and document what they see.

And yet, ICE and law enforcement responded with the kind of posture you’d expect from an occupying force — not public servants.

That’s what stuck with me most: how random the show of force felt. Like it didn’t come from necessity. It came from habit.

And if that’s how they behave when the crowd is small and peaceful, imagine how comfortable they are doing worse when nobody’s around to record it.

Stay sharp. Stay loud. Stay on the sidewalk, apparently.

View all my photos and video by clicking here.