Inside a Virginia courthouse, three immigration agents in plainclothes – one masked – detained a man who had just had misdemeanour assault charges dismissed. They declined to show identification or a warrant to the man, and one threatened to prosecute horrified witnesses who tried to intervene, cellphone video shows.
In North Carolina, US Immigration and Customs Enforcement confirmed it arrested four people at a county courthouse, according to local media reports, prompting the sheriff to express concerns about a lack of communication from the agency as well as about disruption to court proceedings.
Inside a courthouse in New Hampshire, a pair of agents tackled a Venezuelan man outside an elevator, flattening an older man with a cane in the process. And in Boston, an ICE agent detained a man who was on trial.
A municipal court judge held the agent in contempt over the arrest, but the order was later overturned by a federal judge.
The flurry of immigration enforcement at courthouses around the country in the past month – already heavily criticised by judicial officials and lawyers – has renewed a legal battle from President Donald Trump‘s first term as advocates fear people might avoid coming to court.
It’s drawing further attention with last Friday’s arrest of Judge Hannah Dugan in Wisconsin. The FBI arrested Dugan on charges that she tried to help a defendant evade waiting federal agents by letting him leave her courtroom through a jury door.
“Some of these judges think they are beyond and above the law and they are not, and we’re sending a very strong message today,” Attorney General Pam Bondi said during an appearance on Fox News after the arrest.

History of ICE’s arrest practices

Lena Graber, senior staff attorney with the immigrant legal resource center, told The Associated Press that she’s aware of at least a dozen recent immigration arrests at courthouses around the country.
“The historical context is really important,” Graber said. “This is something that was not part of ICE’s practice until the first Trump administration, and people were shocked.”
ICE long had a general practice of not arresting people at certain locations, including schools, hospitals, courthouses and churches. But during the first Trump administration, the agency adopted a policy explicitly allowing courthouse arrests of “specific, targeted aliens,” arguing that it was especially important in “sanctuary” jurisdictions where officials do not notify the agency before releasing immigrants facing deportation cases.
Courthouse immigration arrests jumped, drawing condemnation from judicial officials and legal organisations, as well as lawsuits from some states and the adoption of bills seeking to block the practice.
Dugan’s case is similar to one brought during the first Trump administration against a Massachusetts judge who was accused of helping a man sneak out a back door of a courthouse to evade a waiting immigration officer. A judge in Oregon faced similar allegations, though not an arrest or criminal charges in 2017.
The chief justices of some states, including California and Washington, asked ICE to stop, saying fear of arrest would keep crime victims and witnesses from showing up in court. In one well-publicised case, agents in Texas arrested a woman while she was obtaining a protection order against an alleged abuser.
The Biden administration imposed restrictions on courthouse immigration arrests, but they were quickly undone when Trump returned to office this year.
Under guidance issued January 21, ICE officials are allowed to carry out immigration enforcement in or near courthouses if they believe someone they’re trying to find will be there.
Whenever possible, the agents are supposed to make arrests in nonpublic areas, to coordinate with courthouse security and to avoid disrupting court operations.

Virginia prosecutor promises to investigate court arrest

Teodoro Dominguez Rodriguez, identified by ICE as a Honduran national, was confronted and arrested by immigration enforcement officers after he left a Charlottesville courtroom April 22. It was the second immigration arrest at the court that day.
The first wasn’t recorded, but as word spread, Nick Reppucci, who heads the public defender’s office there, scrambled staff to the courthouse. They captured Dominguez Rodriguez’s arrest on camera.
The three agents, one in a balaclava-style ski mask, ignored demands from observers to show badges or a warrant, the video shows. One agent threatened to have the US attorney’s office prosecute two women who tried to place themselves between the agents and Dominguez Rodriguez.
Sherriff Chan Bryant confirmed that the agents had shown badges and paperwork to a bailiff beforehand, but Albemarle County Commonwealth’s Attorney Jim Hingeley criticised the officers for failing to identify themselves while making the arrest.
“Bystanders, or the person being arrested, might have violently resisted what on its face appeared to be an unlawful assault and abduction,” Hingeley said in an emailed statement.
Reppucci decried the “normalisation happening here, where federal law enforcement are at this point grabbing people without being required to show that person any form of identification.”
In a written statement, ICE stood behind the actions of the officers, “who are trained to assess and prosecute apprehensions in a manner that best ensures operational success and public safety.”
The Associated Press was unable to locate relatives who might speak on Dominguez Rodriguez’s behalf, and it was not clear if he had an attorney representing him.
Repucci stressed the impact arrests like Dominguez Rodriguez’s could have on people coming to court, a place he said is supposed to be where “disputes are resolved in an orderly, peaceful manner.”
“People in divorce proceedings, people with civil disputes, custody hearings, potential witnesses, all are going to be less likely to come to court,” he said.

There’s a saying in cop circles: “Control the scene, or the scene will control you.” But for Rebecca Sayegh — a nine-year veteran of the Toms River Police Department — the night of April 26 was anything but controlled. According to prosecutors, it was pure chaos.
It was nearly midnight in the sleepy Bayville section of Berkeley Township, New Jersey, when an off-duty Sayegh allegedly turned up at the home of her ex-boyfriend. She wasn’t there to patch things up.
Court documents and police affidavits paint a picture of a violent and personal implosion. Sayegh, 32, is accused of smashing through the front glass door with her police-issued baton — storming into the house where her former partner was present with another woman. What followed, prosecutors say, was a barrage of shouting, shoving, and destruction. She allegedly assaulted both occupants, broke household items, vandalised a car parked in the driveway, and then resisted arrest when officers arrived. As she was being escorted away, she reportedly threatened to burn the house down.
It was the kind of scene you expect from a crime procedural — not from the officer usually first on the scene.
Now, Sayegh is the one facing a first-degree burglary charge, along with assault, criminal mischief, resisting arrest, and making terroristic threats. If convicted, she faces up to 20 years behind bars. And the state wants her to stay there until trial.

From Cop to Defendant
On Tuesday, during a virtual hearing, Judge Joseph Grisanti informed Sayegh that prosecutors were seeking to keep her detained without bail. A formal detention hearing is scheduled for Friday.
The decision to re-arrest her didn’t come lightly. Initially, she had been issued a summons and released, as is often protocol for first-time offenders or non-flight risks. But Ocean County Prosecutor Bradley D. Billhimer made it clear: this was no routine domestic incident. After reviewing the case, prosecutors deemed the charges too serious to ignore — and Sayegh was hauled back into custody on Monday.
In court, she appeared from the Ocean County Jail, expressionless, as the charges were read aloud.
Her attorney, Terrance Turnbach, maintains that she is cooperating and understands the severity of the case. “She has been a member of the Toms River Police Department and proudly served her community for almost nine years,” he said. “She is taking all the appropriate steps to properly address the matter at hand.”
The Lawsuit in the Background

But this isn’t the first time Sayegh has been in legal conflict — only, until now, she was the plaintiff.
Last year, she filed a lawsuit against the Toms River Police Department, alleging a toxic “Boy’s Club” culture of sexism and retaliation. According to her civil complaint, Sayegh claims she was sexually harassed, overlooked for promotions, and subjected to disciplinary actions for behaviour that male officers routinely got away with.
At the centre of her allegations is retired Captain Shaun O’Keefe, whom Sayegh accuses of persistently pursuing her for a sexual relationship. The most serious allegation: that during a 2022 charity golf event, O’Keefe followed her into the women’s restroom and asked her to perform a sex act — something she says the department failed to investigate adequately.
In its official response, the township denied all claims, dismissing them as “frivolous” and “without legal basis.” And just weeks before Sayegh’s arrest, a judge dismissed the claims against O’Keefe on procedural grounds — not because they were found to be untrue, but because the statute of limitations had lapsed.
One could argue this entire situation — from the alleged misconduct to Friday’s violent breakdown — is a study in how institutions fail both their members and the communities they serve.
A Force in Crisis?
Sayegh’s case comes at a time when law enforcement agencies nationwide are under scrutiny for issues of accountability and internal culture. What happens when an officer under immense pressure doesn’t get help — but instead implodes?
Toms River PD has remained tight-lipped about Sayegh’s current employment status. The department is no stranger to controversy: in recent years, it has faced multiple lawsuits and internal disputes, including accusations of gender bias and retaliatory discipline.
While it’s unclear if Sayegh’s past grievances with the department played any role in the alleged home invasion, the sequence of events seems to suggest a downward spiral — personal, professional, and legal — that culminated in a shattering night in Berkeley Township.
What Happens Next
The outcome of Friday’s detention hearing will determine whether Sayegh remains behind bars or is released ahead of trial. Prosecutors argue she poses a threat to the alleged victims and potentially to herself. Her defence team will likely argue for supervised release or psychiatric evaluation.
In the meantime, a woman who once wore the badge to protect others now finds herself on the other side of the justice system, as a symbol of what can go wrong when unchecked power, personal turmoil, and institutional neglect collide.
Whatever the court decides next, one thing is clear: for Rebecca Sayegh, the thin blue line has become a tightrope — and it’s fraying fast.