Two days prior to his expulsion from his local Signal chat, I encountered Will Stancil. The setting was the Uptown Minneapolis VFW, for a gathering organized by Rep. Ilhan Omar, serving as a celebratory occasion for Minnesotans who had resisted ICE in diverse ways. Food and beverages, including tacos, were provided, alongside revelry, though Stancil was never observed dancing, which does not imply it never occurred. An acquaintance familiar with Stancil through his efforts in school desegregation expressed astonishment that I recognized him. She was entirely unaware of his contentious, polarizing digital persona. She was oblivious to his disputes with progressives on Bluesky, his clashes with white supremacists on X, and the circumstance that some of Stancil’s former adversaries, in consideration of his recent inclination for pursuing and being exposed to tear gas by ICE, have reluctantly acknowledged him as a kind of unconventional champion.
Upon nearing Stancil, whose appearance is remarkably youthful in person, I found him conversing with Brad Lander, the former New York City comptroller. Lander had traveled by air to Minneapolis that day, intending to investigate the community’s reaction to a federal occupation. Stancil proposed that Lander accompany him on one of his ICE surveillance rounds—a custom now termed “commuting” by local residents—and indicated I was welcome to participate as well. This candidness regarding public scrutiny led to Stancil’s expulsion from the Signal group, as many commuters there are cautious of journalists, aiming to avoid undue notice. Stancil has communicated with, and on several occasions been accompanied by, correspondents from a wide array of publications, including CNN, The Atlantic, New York Magazine, The Economist, the Guardian, the Financial Times, the Minnesota Reformer, Racket MN, Mpls. St. Paul Magazine, the Toronto Star, and most recently, The Verge.
Stancil’s primary objective in commuting is to document instances of ICE’s misconduct. Equipped with only a handheld camera, while federal officials carry firearms, he will capture ongoing detentions—now commonly referred to as “abductions”—and the often forceful responses of agents when they are scrutinized. He has endured pepper spray and tear gas directly to his face on multiple instances, documenting and subsequently publishing information about most of these encounters. Stancil’s detractors, nevertheless, believe that by transforming himself into a public display, he is jeopardizing everyone else. Two significant accusations have been raised against Stancil. The primary accusation is that he is seeking notoriety, potentially to enhance his public image should he contest an election once more. (Stancil contended for the State House in 2024 without success. “I am not trying to draw attention to myself! That is genuinely not the focus,” he asserted to me.) The secondary accusation is that he is engaging in poor operational security, thereby jeopardizing not only himself but also his fellow community members.
He genuinely desired to discuss the Signal messaging groups
Consequently, he was excluded from the Signal chat on the eve of my slated participation in that customary initiation for non-local reporters who had abruptly arrived in Minneapolis: a tour of the vicinity in Stancil’s Honda Fit. Stancil expressed regret, but crucially, he felt wronged. We swiftly devised alternative plans. He was granted access to the Southside Signal group, which maintains a more permissive approach to media than the Uptown chat from which he had been expelled. The administrators had requested he forward a media accord to me in advance. I vowed to maintain confidentiality for all statements made during the discussion and to refrain from capturing audio or video of the chat.
I encountered Stancil before dawn the following day, accompanied by Jack, my photojournalist who had experienced an eventful two weeks in Minneapolis. The city was just commencing its daily activity. I observed scarce individuals on the street during the brief journey from the cultural desolation that marks Downtown Minneapolis to Stancil’s Uptown residence; most of those visible, I presumed given their neon safety vests, were school crossing guards. Stancil was anticipating our arrival, stationary in his gray Honda Fit motor vehicle. He genuinely wished to discuss the Signal messaging groups.
“They asserted, ‘You violated the regulation. The rule dictates no journalists whatsoever.’ I responded, ‘No one had previously informed me of that regulation.’ Subsequently, they stated, ‘You openly revealed that you were being ousted, and that constitutes transgressing the rules.’” Stancil requested a reconsideration. The reply, he indicated, was merely a pictogram of indifference. The lack of transparency troubled Stancil. Likewise, the manner in which some of his peers—his very neighbors!—were handling the entire situation also bothered him. “This is not an insurgent group,” he declared. “Individuals desire to manage it with such covertness and mystery, like an undercover operation, but its effectiveness stems from the sheer number of participants.”
We found ourselves in uncharted terrain. It was evident that this was not Stancil’s familiar domain. At one moment, he turned left when he ought to have turned right, and Jack had to inform him that Cleveland Avenue lay in the opposite direction. A few minutes subsequently, Stancil proceeded incorrectly down a one-way street, unintentionally guiding us into the path of approaching vehicles. Stancil’s operation of the vehicle was, for the most part, unpredictable. He pushed the Honda Fit to its limits, accelerating to pass yellow lights and blatantly disregarding red ones. “It’s a distinctly characteristic Minneapolitan behavior,” he explained to me, “to react with, ‘I am pursuing a government official, yet there’s a yellow light. Oh dear, I must halt!’”
The people of Minnesota are a courteous, regulation-adherent group, treating road regulations with an almost sacred respect. During my 2024 visit for the state exhibition, I was concurrently astonished and pleased by numerous works of grain art commemorating a particular motorway maxim: “merge like a zipper, you will arrive sooner.” ICE agents were distinguishable by their blatant disregard for traffic regulations, not to mention their apparent lack of familiarity with snowy thoroughfares. However, the travelers had also begun driving unpredictably, particularly Stancil. How would they ever catch
up to ICE in any other manner?
The day proved uneventful. We navigated the Southside for about an hour, perhaps an hour and a half, and encounters with ICE across the district were sparse. The usual activity Stancil was accustomed to witnessing was absent. On a recent ride-along with a journalist a week prior, Stancil had confronted ICE almost instantly upon hitting the road and was tear-gassed mere moments after exiting the vehicle. Depending on one’s perspective, we were either fortunate or unfortunate. We drove continuously without incident, allowing Stancil ample opportunity to recount his past engagements with ICE, the apprehensions he had observed, and, naturally, his expulsion from the Signal group chat.
“I am certain that individuals who once intensely disliked one another are now collaborating”
At regular intervals, he would pause mid-sentence to monitor the Signal communication or scrutinize a vehicle appearing notably like an ICE unit. An SUV with darkened windows sparked wariness until we observed the driver: he was alone and puffing on a cigarette, suggesting he was likely not a federal agent. Stancil informed me about a Chevy Silverado he had previously seen on the street, which was a “verified ICE automobile” despite its “remarkably atypical” appearance. He had spotted it again the preceding day while traveling alongside Brad Lander, who exited Stancil’s car to greet the pair of individuals seated in the Silverado. “And they just sped away,” Stancil remarked, but not before Lander noticed the specialized equipment they were wearing. “They’re attempting to observe individuals or something, because we saw them repeatedly.” He wished to encounter them again today. He aimed to discern their activities. The Silverado represented Stancil’s elusive obsession, and he was eager to locate it.
We passed a utility vehicle that bore the inscription “NOT ICE,” which could imply it unquestionably was not ICE or was unequivocally so. Operatives were said to have been camouflaging their vehicles — affixing bumper stickers, installing bike racks — to mislead those watching. This pervasive deception had fostered an atmosphere of distrust in the Twin Cities, and for valid motives. Federal authorities charged both Renee Good and Alex Pretti with being “internal extremists” and implied that any individual participating in anti-ICE actions belongs to an organized unlawful enterprise. Numerous individuals have been apprehended, a portion facing national indictments, and it’s probable that additional actions are impending: the Department of Homeland Security issued summonses to Google, Meta, Discord, and Reddit, requesting the identities, electronic mail addresses, telephone numbers, and further details pertaining to individuals monitoring ICE.
Photo by Jack Califano / The Verge
Will Stancil the individual is quite akin to Will Stancil the digital persona. Both exhibit high energy, swiftly transitioning between subjects with a vigor that, while appearing natural, lacks true tranquility. While Stancil’s online identity appears to revel in instigating and intensifying conflicts with his numerous detractors, the real-life Stancil is amiable, though not always captivating. He offered a harmonious depiction of the municipality’s reaction to the federal presence: before ICE arrived, Minneapolis was plagued by “dreadful internal disagreements” among leftists, liberals, and moderates. Now everyone has put their disagreements aside to overcome a shared adversary. “I am certain that individuals who once intensely disliked one another are now collaborating,” he stated.
He shared details about an acquaintance of his, “prominently positioned within moderate Democratic circles,” whose statements now appear as though composed by an adherent of the Democratic Socialists of America.
“Even regarding me,” Stancil commented, “I’ve had people approached me, saying, ‘Listen, I’ve made certain remarks [concerning you].’ And it’s like, it doesn’t concern me. What does it matter? I don’t recall. Let it go. That has been pleasant to observe. One hopes it endures. It’s been truly heartening to witness such widespread collaboration.”
This recently discovered cohesion possesses boundaries. Stancil, after all, was removed from the group chat, a point he revisited repeatedly in our discussion. “One reason I’m a little sad about being expelled from the group, and this is exceedingly sentimental, is that there’s something about, they are targeting my community members. They are originating from my district. Over here, the individuals I encounter on the thoroughfare are familiar faces. Elsewhere, they are strangers to me. That’s a truly unique element motivating many individuals each day.”
Stancil is exceptionally sincere. He rescheduled a medical consultation to dedicate the morning to tracking ICE, even in this unacquainted district. His indignation concerning the federal presence in the Twin Cities is discernible, and in this regard, he is no
Unlike other centrist Minnesotans whose political views are not precisely radical — he actually leans more left than the “Edina wine moms,” as an organizer I encountered expressed it, individuals who have lately become involved in the movement — Nevertheless, these other politically moderate, but not extremist, Minnesotans typically maintain a discreet presence, both online and offline. As a result, they do not engage in disputes with socialists and anarchists concerning issues such as operational security and the utility or pointlessness of communicating with the media.
Potentially due to his considerable online visibility, Stancil’s expulsion from the Signal chat ignited a prolonged debate across Bluesky and X, a discussion that seemingly shows no signs of concluding. Despite everything, Stancil has remained resolute. The occupation might have united liberals, leftists, and anarchists, yet only to a certain extent.
Both online and offline, individuals have debated whether Stancil’s inclination for continuous posting — a habit his proponents view as transparency and his critics perceive as ostentation or perhaps egoism — poses a detriment to the objective. The disagreement has spilled over into actual life. Several local residents I spoke with indicated they had no issue with Stancil allowing journalists to accompany him; they had, in fact, included me in their patrols. Other coordinators informed me that his behavior jeopardized everyone. A particular source stated they would withdraw their interview if it featured in the same article as Stancil’s. Then, in early February, the week following my meeting with Stancil, a video emerged online showing someone striking Stancil. The reasons for the altercation are vague, but the footage depicts a small assembly of masked individuals encircling Stancil, who ridicules his impending assailants. “Be quiet, fellow. I’ve accomplished far more than you have,” Stancil instructs them. “Silence. Imbecile.”
“A common assertion within left-wing communities is that this demonstrates the effectiveness of community policing,” Stancil remarked regarding ICE surveillance. “I would contend the contrary. This is draining, unproductive; there are numerous false alarms, and many individuals escape. It demands substantial resources. However, we undertake this solely because more conventional systems have failed us here or are not accessible. And it has proven effective due to its scope, but you cannot have 5,000 people randomly monitoring their neighborhoods daily. Over the long term, it is unsustainable.”
This was among those uneventful days that rendered the entire endeavor seemingly pointless. We circled around, seeking ICE, yet observed nothing; a quietude suggesting they were operating elsewhere, perhaps in a different district or a neighboring suburb, even if not present here.
Subsequently, he spotted the Silverado. I observed it prior to him, but I was uncertain if it was the identical vehicle — the one he had depicted was green, whereas this one appeared somewhat blue, so I remained silent. The Silverado veered left, and we turned right, and at that moment, Stancil recognized it. We were caught in congested traffic on a bustling two-way thoroughfare, where Stancil executed a U-turn in the middle to bring us to our intended location. The Silverado hastened through a traffic signal we could not pass without being broadsided, so we waited with frustration as we observed it escape. Once the signal changed to green, Stancil abruptly cut off another vehicle in an effort to pursue. “He will likely consider me exceedingly impolite,” he stated, “but that is acceptable. I can endure that on my conscience.”
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