How I explained what I witnessed ICE doing in Bozeman to my daughters

Editor’s note: These were letters that Bozeman resident Brandy Straub wrote to her two daughters after her experience witnessing Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents in action there last week. She was featured in a story about the event, published by the Daily Montanan. She has two daughters and wrote them these letters after the incident. She has given the Daily Montanan permission to print what she wrote to both. We share them here:

July 4, 2026

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” —The Declaration of Independence.

Dear M—,

It was “just another Monday” dropoff at Camp Equinox filled with creativity, performance, laughter, friends, and fun. We were lamenting on the drive that camp would be inside because of heavy rains, but I’m so very grateful this kept you safely in ignorance and joy. After I dropped you off, I pulled over near the park to respond to a call and send a quick email. Ten minutes later, I headed home on the normal route only to slam on my brakes two blocks later in witness to an armed ICE chase.

A pickup truck came through the parkway, sideswiped a post, and continued across the street in front of me without a driver, as two men had jumped from the moving vehicle and continued running along the west side of the street. Behind them, an unmarked SUV had stopped in the parkway, and an armed ICE agent in jeans, a green hoody, a ball cap, and a police vest ran in front of my van in pursuit. As he came around the van, he aimed his weapon through the passenger window directly at me and then continued on in the chase happening behind me.

I froze in paralysis and terror and complete disbelief at what I was seeing. I’m angry at the fear I felt and the guilt that I couldn’t turn around to bear witness to the ending, but you and I talk often about simply trying to make the next best decision, so this is what I did. Without additional risk of getting hit, I drove around the crashed pickup and out of the neighborhood for my own safety. My next thought was of you, and I couldn’t imagine you and your friends seeing or being involved in what was transpiring only three blocks away. I called the Camp Equinox number and left a message and then sent a text message to alert the camp director. He had not been notified and was grateful to be informed and inside with all children due to the storm. I also called 911 to a disappointing conversation that local law enforcement wasn’t involved and couldn’t do anything about it. I urged them to protect the neighborhood and the camp from the very unprofessional armed chaos that I was now connected to. I’m guessing the ICE agents didn’t know or care that there was a school nearby.

You were safe; I was safe, but so much of our wonderful community is not safe. The disregard for process and public safety was terrifying, but it is not nearly as terrifying for me as it must be for the parents, siblings, spouses, children, and friends of those men simply heading to work through the neighborhood that morning.

I went home to take care of the dog and methodically move through my workday. You came home from camp happy despite the rain, and I hugged you tighter and we enjoyed dinner downtown with friends traveling through. I coped with my emotions by walking through the day as if it were just another Monday, but we should never get used to this being normal or OK.

We are better than this as humans and Americans, and I’m desperately sorry that this is the current reality in our community. This should never be “just another Monday.” I promise to continue to try to make the next best decision so that your future and the futures of all children truly do include the unalienable rights that our forefathers envisioned of Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.

Happy Independence Day. I love you immeasurably,

Mom

The second letter

Dear A—,

Thank you for your intuitive and understanding heart. I know I was delayed in getting home this morning, and I appreciate your understanding that I couldn’t answer your call to tell you why. You could sense something was wrong as I got out of the car and asked me if I was OK. I gave you a hug and said I was just tired and needed a shower to clean up before a meeting. You went back to your summer chores and morning training, and I cried silently in the shower before cleaning myself up and moving through my workday.

I couldn’t bear to share with you the fear, guilt, anger and the sadness that I was carrying. It is only now, four days later, that I can even attempt to try to explain the event and my feelings about it. I want to protect your beautiful soul from the hate and fear being created in our communities, but we also have to walk through the existing reality in order to create something better.

I’m finding the courage to tell my story from a place of gratitude that you and your sister and I are safe, but I worry publicity will shadow you online or with peers. I hope to model bravery, kindness, and belief that truth can affect change; and inaction makes us complicit in injustice.

My experience with ICE in our community this week is one of disbelief in the chaotic, unprofessional, and dangerous nature of these federal agents. I’m disgusted that our leaders have chosen to use our tax dollars for this type of activity instead of supporting healthcare or education or research to enrich our communities, and I promise that I will continue to speak truth and do my best to help build a brighter future.

250 years ago, the Declaration of Independence envisioned a foundation of principles and powers for our country “most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.” I sure hope that in your lifetime we will return to setting a priority on safety and happiness where all individuals are truly created equal.

Happy Independence Day. I love you immeasurably,

Mom