The sound is constant and blunt. It could easily be mistaken for an expression of anger, but watching how others in the area-pedestrians, other drivers-react, it's a signal: a warning to anyone within earshot that ICE is moving through the neighborhood. It turns what ICE hoped would be a discreet operation into a public event. One pedestrian we pass hears the horn, turns, and gives the ICE vehicles the finger.
Clouds settle low in the sky as dusk sets in across Pajaro Valley. Fields of strawberries stretch out as far as the eye can see, catching the last amber rays of the day. In the distance, the twin stacks of Moss Landing Power Plant sit among factories pushing plumes of smoke into the air. On the exterior wall of a house in Castroville, a newly installed sensor glows green with an important message: It's safe to go outside.