by John Osborn ·
Friday, January 16, 2026
Several families hold signs, Thursday, Jan. 8, the morning after Renee Good was fatally shot by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent Jonathan Ross in Minneapolis, Minn. “We want to spark conversation and help our children to learn through action,” said Arielle Jennings. Front row, from left: Eleanor Jennings-Heal, Jeremy Brown, Sam Jennings-Heal, Malcolm Brown, and Evelyn Brown. Back row from left: Jim Heal, Arielle Jennings, Eve Wittenberg, Elizabeth Brown (holding Maya Brown) and Eric Brown. (Photos by Lisa Aciukewicz)
Nearly 40 area residents gathered on the Common Saturday, Jan. 10, in a demonstration organized with only 24 hours’ notice to protest the fatal shooting of a Minneapolis woman by a federal immigration agent. No Harvard police officers were present on the scene.
Renee Good, a 37-year-old U.S. citizen and mother of three, was shot Jan. 7 by Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent Jonathan Ross in her Honda Pilot during a federal immigration enforcement operation. Federal officials said Ross acted in self-defense after Good attempted to use her vehicle as a weapon. Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey and Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz disputed that account, saying video evidence does not support the federal claims.
The shooting sparked protests across the country, with demonstrations in multiple cities expressing outrage over the unnecessary use of deadly force. In Harvard, the demonstration organized by resident Mario Cardenas via email marked the fifth such gathering to protest Trump administration policies since May. Participants, loosely affiliated with the national activist group Indivisible, lined the Common along Ayer Road under an overcast sky in unseasonably warm 60-degree weather.
Demonstrators held mostly handmade signs with messages including “Make (Renee) Good trouble,” “No!,” “End the ICE age,” and “Call Congress.” Abbe Alpert displayed a quilt on which she had stitched, “Say no to misogyny, racism, homophobia, demagogues, fascists.”
Between bursts of cheering and waving at passing motorists, the scene felt decidedly local. Demonstrators, most of whom were Harvard residents, chatted about town news and neighborhood gossip. Many cars honked in solidarity, met by sharp whistles from protesters. Others drove by in silence, and some sped up suddenly as they left the intersection of Still River and Ayer roads. At one point, a passing vehicle beeped the rhythmic “Shave and a Haircut” cadence, instantly answered by the traditional “two bits” delivered via two whistles.
Five dogs stood among the group, including two English cream golden retrievers and an Australian cobberdog.
Sequoia and Dakota Fournier hold a sign at the protest with their grandparents Pat and Mary Connelly (behind).
Despite the casual atmosphere, demonstrators expressed profound alarm at what they described as escalating federal violence and the erosion of democratic norms.
“Every time you think, ‘OK, it can’t get lower,’ it seems like there’s a new low,” said Stacie Green. “Nothing fails to amaze me anymore, and yet I’m always amazed, because I always think the bottom keeps dropping out.”
Several demonstrators said Saturday’s gathering felt different from previous protests, which often focused on specific legislative policies or the president’s conduct. Multiple participants used the word “fascism” to describe current federal actions.
“I think people are now coming to realize the mask is off, and people are coming to realize that this actually is a fascist enterprise,” said Kelene Blumstein. “It’s showing all the characteristics of a fascist government—the suppression of dissent, punishing your enemies, having secret police.”
David Kay, who said he hadn’t expected to spend his “golden years” protesting, described the gathering as “grimmer” than previous demonstrations.
“The violence and the hatred that’s being generated and sold” has become “palpable,” he said.
Several demonstrators raised concerns about Congress’s recent authorization of what they said was $75 billion in additional ICE spending, describing the agency as operating outside normal law enforcement constraints.
“It’s really scary,” said Colleen Pearce, a retired teacher. “This is a personal military that’s behind masks that don’t follow the rules.” Pearce said the killing particularly troubled her as an educator who taught students “acceptance” and “empathy for someone who’s a little different than you.”
“We’ve lost empathy, and cruelty is celebrated,” she said. “That’s what really scares me.”
David Kay waves an American flag.
While unified in their outrage, demonstrators expressed divergent views on whether institutional remedies remain viable.
Some expressed hope that resistance from what Blumstein called “gatekeepers”—lawyers, medical professionals, and local police—could still constrain federal actions.
“We have an educated populace,” Blumstein said. “People see what’s going on. We just have to keep protesting, just keep coming out, just keep resisting, not cooperating, and we will get our country back.”
Others expressed deeper skepticism. Mario Cardenas, who organized the demonstration, described President Trump as “the clown on top of the stick that they wave around to hide the vast theft, the vast rearrangement of things, the removal of the safety net, the militarization of police forces in America.”
“He’s the distraction to all these other things,” Cardenas said, adding that “the ballot box may not be the remedy” because “they’re subverting democracy from the ground up, top down, bottom up.”
Steve Abrams and Abbe Alpert pose with a quilt Alpert created in 2024.
As motorists passed through town, demonstrators spoke of the need to engage their audience. While welcoming honks and whistles as signs of solidarity, several said they hoped for more active participation.
Green cited research suggesting that when 3.5% of a population engages in protest, it reaches a “tipping point” for social change.
“I thought, oh, I actually have to go, because I know 50% of people did not vote for this, but how come at least 3.5% of us can’t protest every week or every other week and show up?” she said.
Alpert was more direct about her expectations for those driving past.
“I’d like them to be thinking … they need to do something,” Alpert said. “If they’re against this, what’s happening with our government, they need to do something. They can’t just sort of ‘like’ something [on social media] or toot their horn. They have to actually try to mobilize and work together.”
By noon, the crowd had quietly dispersed, leaving the Common to return to its usual Saturday quiet.