Reflection on the Mental Impact: Watching Citizens being Shot and Brutalized
- Ash A Milton
- Jan 26
- 2 min read

Unlike the 1930s, we are watching the beating and killing of U.S. citizens by federal agents in real time.
Renée Good, a 37-year-old American citizen and mother of three, was fatally shot on January 7, 2026, in Minneapolis by ICE agent Jonathan Ross as she was in her car; Ross fired three shots, killing her, as her vehicle passed him.
Alex Pretti, a 37-year-old ICU nurse, was fatally shot by a U.S. Customs and Border Protection agent on January 24, 2026, in Minneapolis—captured on bystander videos that appear to show federal agents spraying him with a substance and pinning him to the ground before the shooting.
ChongLy "Saly" Scott Thao, a 57-year-old naturalized U.S. citizen, was detained by agents wearing only boxers, a blanket, and Crocs while his 5-year-old grandson "woke up crying in fear" as agents stormed into the home.
Jonathan Aguilar Garcia, a 17-year-old Target employee and U.S. citizen, was tackled to the ground and handcuffed by federal agents; while being forced into a van, he repeatedly shouted "I'm literally a U.S. citizen".
Marimar Martinez, a 31-year-old U.S. citizen, was shot five times by a Border Patrol agent in Chicago, though federal prosecutors later dropped all charges against her after evidence suggested the federal agents' initial account was false.
Dayanne Figueroa, a U.S. citizen and mother, had her car struck by an unmarked vehicle driven by federal agents who then exited with weapons drawn, forcibly opened her car door, and pulled her out by her legs, dragging her through the street before forcing her into a minivan.
The psychological toll of watching these recordings loop endlessly through our feeds creates what researchers call vicarious traumatization. We see federal agents deploy pepper spray against bystanders, we watch people dragged from their workplaces and homes, we witness the terror of families torn apart—and then we see it again, and again. This constant exposure to state violence can lead to collective numbness, a wearing down of our capacity to feel outrage, or conversely, a paralyzing anxiety that makes meaningful action feel impossible.
Yet the same visibility that traumatizes us also makes denial impossible. Local officials have filed lawsuits to prevent the destruction of evidence related to these shootings, with court documents accusing officials of hastily removing evidence from scenes and seizing cell phones. The cameras held by ordinary citizens have become a form of accountability that didn't exist in earlier eras of state violence.
Our mental health as a democratic society may depend on what we do with this documentation—whether we metabolize what we're witnessing into demands for justice and reform, or whether brutality becomes just another scroll-past moment in an endless feed. The question is not whether we watch, but whether watching will change us enough to act.



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