The Full Story from My Experience with Alleged ICE Agents
We are reposting this article from Heather Asiyanbi’s substack about this experience at MKE Urban Stables with her permission.
Volunteers raised safety concerns, but the executive director’s response is where the focus should be.
Nov 16, 2025
What happened at MKE Urban Stables on the morning of Oct. 29, 2025, has raised questions about safety, leadership, and communication inside a facility known for its healing work with vulnerable populations.
I am a journalist, and I was a volunteer at the Stables (we call it the barn) for nearly two years. I mucked stalls, hauled hay, groomed horses and the mini-donkeys, and supported a community that prides itself on compassion, trust, and trauma-informed care.
All of that is why I reacted the way I did when masked, unmarked individuals claiming to be law enforcement appeared in the MKE Urban Stables parking lot that morning. And while board leadership neither approved of this action nor were they aware of this event, the response(s) from the executive director is what really concerns me.
Possible ICE agents in the parking lot
Morning chores begin at 7 a.m., and in late October, it is dark dark until well after 7 a.m., so when I arrived for my morning volunteer shift it was not yet the sunny day in the forecast.
As I approached the parking lot, I saw a handful of vehicles already taking spaces. The barn is across the street from a construction site, and workers had been told they couldn’t park in the lot. I thought maybe workers were parking there again and figured I’d just alert the office staff about it.
But, as I pulled into a parking spot, a general feeling of “wrongness” started moving up my spine. The men mulling about didn’t look like construction workers. It wasn’t until I was getting out of my car that I saw the man dressed from head to toe in fatigues with a vest marked “FBI” coming out of a Dodge Charger.
Whatever dread I felt turned to acute worry. Was something terrible happening at the barn? Were the horses and mini’s okay?
“What’s going on?” I asked the guy in fatigues at the same time additional cars were arriving.
“Oh, well, we’re staging here.”
“Staging?”
“Yeah.”
I took a longer look around and noticed the cars were all vehicles that families and working people would drive – smaller sedans, a few SUVs, even a minivan or two – but the men gathering were dressed in cargo pants and unmarked vests or ones with “POLICE” and “ERO” on them.
I now know ERO stands for Enforcement and Removal. Several wore masks. None wore badges or identification.
As more unmarked vehicles pulled into the lot, and more masked individuals stepped out of them, I realized what was happening.
“You can’t be here,” I said.
“We have permission from the District 2 supervisor,” Fatigues told me.
“I don’t care who you think gave you permission, this is where we do therapy and learning. You can’t be here. You need to go. Now.”
“Okay, okay,” he answered, raising his hands. “We’ll get out of here.”
I backed up and started taking photos.
Another volunteer, Amanda, arrived and asked what was going on.
“I think this might be an ICE raid,” I told her.
“Oh, absolutely fucking not,” she answered, pulling out her phone and taking pictures, too.
Fatigues said, “Hey, we gotta go,” and made a round-up motion with his arm.
Additional cars arrived and discharged more people wearing masks and vests. A woman exited a minivan and quickly put her mask in place.
“Cover your faces! Get in your cars!” she yelled.
During the encounter, Amanda and I both called to the agents, “Hey, what agency are you with? Why are you wearing masks? Where’s your badge?”
I wish now that we had asked to see warrants.
Two or three minutes later, they were gone.
It is worth noting here that I’ve seen many non-white men working at the site, and awareness dawned after the fact that the construction site was probably their target.
Inside the barn: Not a fact-finding conversation
I described what happened next in my second letter to the Board. The first letter detailed the parking lot incident. Screenshots of those communications are below.
As we were finishing chores, Executive Director Mary McIntosh approached me.
“What happened out there?” she asked.
“There were masked agents in the parking lot, and Amanda and I made them leave,” I answered.
She did not ask what we had seen or whether we were safe. Instead, she said, “You had no right.”
“Yes, I did. What they’re doing is unconstitutional,” I answered.
(I realize the U.S. Supreme Court has found these kinds of actions perfectly legal, but I think they’re wrong primarily because of the 4th and 6th amendments. Also, most ICE warrants – if they even have any – are administrative and not judicial.)
“Oh, you know the Constitution?” Mary asked.
“Yes, I do,” I stated. “I’m a reporter.”
She walked away, and we finished filling and hanging hay bags, our last chore of the morning. Amanda and I walked outside with another volunteer and chatted about the incident.
Mary also joined us.
“So, is everyone okay after what happened?” she asked.
We told her we were fine.
Mary put her head down and sighed.
“I’m going to try and say this as nice as possible,” she said. “This is private property. You don’t have the right to tell people who can or can’t be here.”
And then she made statements to the effect of “You’re not allowed to do that,” “This isn’t the place for politics,” and indicated this sort of activity would continue to take place.
Mary also told us this could have been a multi-jurisdictional exercise, but in my role as a reporter, I’ve been present for more than a few of those. In every case, to the officer, every single one was clearly identifiable as law enforcement.
“Well, if you don’t like it, you should leave and not come back,” Mary said.
I was very nearly stunned into speechlessness by what sounded like her support of unmarked, masked agents on the barn’s property and by the cavalier way she was ready to let dedicated volunteers just walk away.
My recollection – and Amanda affirmed this as well – is that politics was never raised by anyone but Mary. My concern—and Amanda’s—was about the safety of the barn because of the populations it serves: veterans, adults and children with disabilities, and high-school students.
In fact, special ed students from Bay View High School were going to arrive the same day for their regular Wednesday chores. Can you imagine the potential trauma they might have experienced had they arrived and seen a cadre of unidentified, possibly armed, masked agents throwing people to the ground and then into vehicles?
Can you imagine if persons participating in equine therapy had arrived during this operation?
When I explained that, Mary defended the agents’ presence. She said things to the effect of:
“They were allowed to be here.”
“This kind of thing happens.”
“Remember when the FBI was here?”
Not once did she acknowledge that we had confronted masked individuals. Not once did she express concern for our safety or the safety of the clients we serve. The only language about safety came later, in a general volunteer email sent after my dismissal (screenshot below).
Being “fired” as a volunteer
This was not my first charged interaction with Mary. Earlier this year, she and I had a conversation during which we very clearly landed on opposite sides of a variety of issues.
To be honest, I steered clear of her for a few weeks after that, but then it faded into the background. Our brief exchanges during chores returned to what I would say was amicable. We even joked with each other a few times and shared a mission to set the barn cats free to do their jobs.
Still, in my letter to her, I noted:
“I cannot help but believe the animus from that conversation continues and was amplified” in her decision-making on Oct. 29.
The difference in how I was treated compared to Amanda was stark. She was not dismissed and later resigned voluntarily, writing in her resignation letter:
“The presence of these agents made me feel unsafe… Equally concerning was Ms. McIntosh’s response, in which she stated that it was ‘not our place to be involved,’ that the agents ‘were allowed to be there,’ and that if we disagreed, we should leave and not return.”
The dismissal
Within hours of the incident, Mary sent me a formal dismissal letter:
“Your response... was outside the scope of your volunteer responsibilities and created confusion with our public safety partners … We also addressed the importance of maintaining neutrality and refraining from involvement in political or authority-related matters while volunteering with MKE Urban Stables.”
I stated clearly during our conversation outside the barn that my objection was not political. As I later wrote in my response to her dismissal letter (screenshot below):
“This decision is clearly in retaliation for me disagreeing that a law enforcement raid of any kind should be staged where therapy and learning services are performed for various members of our community.”
The Board’s findings
After I contacted Board President Ed Krishok, he responded promptly. In his written communication—screenshot below—he stated:
“We have been able to confirm that the activity was not conducted with the permission of MKE Urban Stables … Whomever they were, they did not have permission from MKE Urban Stables to be there.”
He also wrote:
“Staging for a law enforcement action, by anyone, is not an intended or permitted use of the MKE Urban Stables site.”
MPD confirmed it was not their operation, and they agreed to issue internal communication reinforcing that the barn is not to be used for such staging.
I should also note that the horses for MPD mounted patrol are also housed at the barn. It is not unusual to have several officers on site and in uniform. They often participate in community equine learning programs.
One staff member confirmed to me they resigned following the incident, citing the executive director’s response as a reason.
As of the date of this article, she remains in her role.
Why this matters
What happened on Oct. 29 was more than a possible raid staging in the parking lot. It highlights deeper tensions about communication, leadership, and mission alignment within an organization that serves highly vulnerable populations.
Here’s what I think: The barn is sacred space, and the work that is done there cannot coexist with leadership that dismisses valid safety concerns, reframes them as political, or treats volunteers and staff as disposable when they raise questions.
When masked, unmarked individuals show up on the property, the appropriate response should have been inquiry, transparency, and collaboration—not defensiveness, ultimatums, and retaliation.
As I typed this, I hadn’t heard anything further from the board though I did send a follow up note this evening (Nov. 16, 2025). On Monday, Nov. 17, 2025, Board President Ed Krishok and I scheduled a Zoom conversation for Wednesday, Nov. 19.
I will continue to update this article as additional details are available.
A place worth protecting
The work at MKE Urban Stables is powerful. The horses, donkeys, veterans, clients, staff, and volunteers create something rare and meaningful. While I am a volunteer who does morning chores and not a client, I have also been enriched by my time there.
I document the entire experience here — supported by screenshots, letters, and corroborated accounts — to help make sure this organization continues to be the place of healing it was designed to be.