A Political Rebellion in the Rio Grande Valley

Host Michael Barbaro introduces producer Lynsea Garrison’s reporting from Texas’s Rio Grande Valley, where raids that began in early 2025 increasingly targeted workers without criminal records. ICE agents appeared at construction sites, sometimes handcuffing crews while they were pouring driveways or framing houses. Mario Guerrero, a developer and executive director of the South Texas Builders Association, posted a video warning that the raids would damage the economy, housing market, and American dream. The STBA represents 159 construction and real-estate businesses. After members exchanged alerts in group texts, they held a meeting that Mario described as “a cry for help,” even though many attendees had voted for Trump.

Garrison explains that the Valley is a largely Hispanic, Catholic, bilingual region where immigration is woven into daily life: Border Patrol is a major employer, a Border Patrol agent may preach to undocumented congregants, and restaurants can serve ICE officers while employing people without legal status. The 2021 immigration surge, which peaked under Biden, brought up to 10,000 crossings a day along the southern border and strained local institutions. Residents described stress among Border Patrol agents, two suicides in one week, property-crime concerns, and resentment that newcomers seemed to receive medical or processing priority. Although some accounts were inaccurate or incomplete—McAllen’s overall crime fell, and emergency care is also guaranteed to citizens—many residents felt the system was unfair. Builders also identified with Trump as a businessman whose inherited enterprise represented their own American-dream ambitions.

When raids intensified, videos showed ICE agents climbing roofs, shouting at workers, and chasing people through subdivisions. Anonymous framer A kept working because his children depended on his income, despite a friend warning that ICE had chased him from a job site. Construction employs nearly 30% immigrant labor nationally; Texas estimates range from 40% to 50%, while Valley industry figures suggested as many as 80% of workers were undocumented. A described learning framing from his father: roughly two years to master basics, followed by years of precise, dangerous work before becoming a “maestro.” Garrison watched his father finish a pantry frame in just over ten minutes. When such workers disappeared, wives replaced husbands, sons replaced fathers, and crews could not simply be recreated.

A was arrested at a job site by unmarked trucks despite having a notice to appear and attending his immigration hearings. ICE took him to Port Isabel Detention Center and offered voluntary departure to Mexico; he refused because his family and life were in the United States. The workforce shortage pushed one builder from 25 houses in a normal year to 12 by the end of 2025 and only three contracts for 2026. Suppliers reported falling lumber and cement sales, while a cement company laid off more than 100 people and later filed for bankruptcy. Mario rejected the idea that Americans would quickly fill the jobs: apprentices started at $15 an hour, but the work was hard, dangerous, and not taught in local high schools. He said replacing skilled framers, plumbers, electricians, and HVAC workers would take years.

Garrison profiles Julio Carranza, an STBA vice president who grew up poor after commuting between Reynosa and McAllen, sharing a small Texas house with two brothers and relying at times on food stamps. He spoke only Spanish when he entered school and was humiliated when classmates laughed that his father worked as an H-E-B cashier. Julio hustled for money by cleaning cars, cutting hair, and picking up dog waste, later becoming a special-education teacher before joining his brother in real estate. By 34 he was a millionaire, developer, and mortgage-company owner, building a 6,500-square-foot golf-course home and subdivisions near impoverished colonias. He saw the raids as an attack on the inherited dream that his family and immigrant workers had built.

After local leaders said immigration was a federal issue, Mario and Julio contacted Republican Congresswoman Monica de la Cruz, Democrats Vicente Gonzalez and Henry Cuellar, congressional candidates, and even Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, though Mario was removed from her farmers’ meeting. The STBA held a Martin Luther King Day meeting, pairing King’s speeches with footage of raids. Members asked what ICE could legally do at worksites and proposed new work visas and oversight. De la Cruz offered legislative options; Cuellar discussed appropriations and guardrails. No one gave a clear answer. The builders then traveled to Washington, where ICE officials said construction sites were not private unless fully enclosed and that paperwork issued before the Trump administration would not be considered valid. Mario told officials, “You fucking tricked us.”

Builders fenced job sites, locked gates, installed cameras, and instructed workers not to run if ICE arrived. Mario joked about high-voltage fences while saying he was building a house for an ICE agent. He and others began carrying passports or driver’s licenses and said traffic stops had turned frightening even for citizens. After the Washington meetings, an ICE-employed client told Mario that agents had received orders to stop attacking job sites, and raids appeared to slow temporarily. But Congress later passed the Secure America Act, giving ICE and Border Patrol $70 billion more, and more than 200 people were arrested in the Valley in one July day. The shooting death of Houston framer Lorenzo Salgado made Mario say, “When they killed Lorenzo…they killed the American Dream.”

A recalled discovering at 13 that he had been born in Mexico and could not pass a Border Patrol checkpoint. He said an employer once withheld about $8,000, but undocumented workers were too vulnerable to fight back. In detention, he lost 15–20 pounds and was fed little more than chicken, rice, and water; his son cried and clung to him during visits. After receiving bond, A returned to work and became highly sought-after, receiving 10–12 blueprints a day. For a 2,900-square-foot house, he raised his framing price from $4.50 to $5.80 per square foot because few framers remained, telling contractors that this was the labor market they had voted for. His immigration case, which his lawyer called a “home run,” was denied. An appeal could take years, and he now avoids a San Antonio zoo trip with his daughter because a checkpoint could lead to detention.

A told Garrison he felt betrayed rather than angry at builders who voted for Trump, because immigrant framers created the wealth those builders now defended. Julio acknowledged the criticism was partly right: he would not have acted if the raids had not threatened his finances, though he also cared about the workers. STBA members said they were changing their votes, with one describing an “immigration hat” and “money hat.” Mario responded by creating a trade school for Americans, beginning with quarterly classes and a planned first group of 28 students. He argued that construction offers hard work without college debt and can lead to self-employment. The episode closes with polling showing Texas Latino voters shifting sharply toward Democrats: Tallarico led Paxton by nearly 40 points, after Texas Latinos had split evenly between Trump and Harris in 2024.