How SoCal's car washes are learning to operate in the Trump era

Mario remembers his shift at Harbor Blvd Car Wash on that clear August day. He was in the conveyorized tunnel dealing with an equipment issue when he heard screams. In a panic, he ran and hid in a dark bathroom stall. Outside, he listened to his co-worker scuffle with a masked man until he heard, "OK, you've got me." Then silence. He had just begun to think he was safe, when someone grabbed his arm. Mario, who asked to be identified by only his first name because of his pending immigration case, is among seven workers who U.S. Customs and Border Patrol detained at the Santa Ana car wash that day. The Trump administration’s aggressive and sometimes chaotic immigration sweeps that began last summer have rattled immigrant workforces in major industries such as hospitality, agriculture, construction and food service, causing absenteeism, disruptions in production and workers to risk their lives, including a farmworker who fell to his death during a cannabis greenhouse raid in July. The raids have had sweeping impacts on specific local economies, such as downtown L.A.'s Fashion District and the areas of Lynwood, Bell and Pico Rivera, rendering neighborhoods ghost towns for stretches, with businesses shuttered and customers scarce. Few sites, however, became such frequent battlegrounds as the parking lots of Home Depots, where day laborers congregate, or were hit as persistently and severely as the open air car washes that dot sunny Southern California. More than 370 workers were picked up at some 100 car washes across Los Angeles and Orange counties in the last year, according to CLEAN Carwash Worker Center, a labor advocacy nonprofit that tracks raids through community reports, social media footage, and worker outreach. Mario and a few dozen other car wash workers have been able to secure their release, but most of his peers remain detained or have been deported. He mostly stays at home with an ankle monitor, where his wife and three adult children frequently check on him. He describes his two months in detention as the most "humiliating" of his life. At first he was made to sleep on a cold floor without blankets, he recalls. He and others would help a detainee with a head injury who was unable to get up to take meals. Immigration sweeps hit some car washes repeatedly, as many as three or four times, during what is typically the industry's peak season. There was a lull when a judge restricted the aggressive tactics, concluding they were racist and unconstitutional, but sweeps surged again in the fall when the U.S. Supreme Court lifted those restrictions. "When raids were at their worst they didn't only take workers. They took customers, they took owners," said Flor Melendrez, executive director of CLEAN. "They were taking anyone." Interviews with industry workers, owners and labor advocates show that staffing at car washes that were hit by multiple raids has dried up considerably, both because of difficulty attracting labor to a physically strenuous, and now dangerous, job — and because businesses now simply can't afford payroll. At least 7 out of the 100 or so car washes hit in the region in the last year, according to a Times review, have closed. Others have been listed for sale or have cut back on labor, renovating and adding machinery to soap and scrub as well as self-serve vacuum stations. Some hit only once, by contrast, have been able to recover. Kyle Harvick, head of U.S. Customs and Border Patrol's El Centro Sector, defended raids on businesses including car washes last year, stating in a court declaration that they “have been selected for encounters because past experiences have demonstrated that illegal aliens utilize and seek work at these locations.” Mehmet Aydogan, owner of Westchester Hand Wash, which was hit by raids on consecutive days last June and had 12 employees taken (with four later released), said he checks immigration enforcement monitoring websites each morning the same way he checks the weather. He has taken out a loan and has credit card debt totaling about $100,000, he said. His skilled staff with decades of experience washing cars has disappeared. He estimates he's hired about 100 people in the last year to battle worker turnover. The car wash used to employ about 15 people. It now operates with five, he said. "I have now hired an 18-year-old girl. We've never had that before," Aydogan said. "We have no other choice." In an industry already known for wage theft and other labor violations, some longtime employees report diminished hours and growing workloads, forced to compensate for new hires — all while they struggle with deep psychological wounds. An employee at a car wash in Santa Ana, who asked that his name and place of work be withheld, had nightmares for days after a raid, and he still freezes up when cars with tinted windows appear. New security protocols were later implemented — for example, having an employee posted at the entrance to watch for agents. But measures have lapsed in recent months. The car wash used to employ 30 to 35 workers, the worker said. Only about 10 original staffers remain, plus about 10 new hires who cycle in and out. One of his former co-workers now instead helps his wife with housekeeping work, while at least two simply stay home, living off their savings and odd jobs, he said. "The reality is people don't want to work at car washes anymore," he said. Unions and advocacy groups have responded to the enforcement surge by organizing "Know Your Rights" trainings and community patrols to watch for federal agents. Volunteers and paid canvassers have traversed neighborhoods on foot to talk to local businesses. There is a continuing need for rental assistance for families whose breadwinners have been detained and protections for immigrant workers who are now more vulnerable, said Angelica Salas, executive director of the Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights. Some employers have begun selectively screening the work authorization of already hired workers, an illegal practice, and are quick to fire those they suspect of being undocumented, she said. "There's just a level of abuse that has increased because of the raids," Salas said. Vivi Sanchez Salinas with MiSalud, a nonprofit that contracts with farms to offer counseling services, said the stress of potential immigration enforcement may hamper productivity and show up in the form of physical ailments, for example, trouble sleeping, stomach issues and headaches. Without effective coping mechanisms, the stress can build into chronic diagnoses, she said. Substance-use disorders, suicidality and absentiism, where someone may start skipping work, are other possible effects. "It's very grim. You just might not have that person anymore," she said. When masked armed agents stormed the premises of Valley Car Wash on Van Nuys Boulevard in September, an agent slammed the owner, 79-year-old Rafie Shouhed, to the pavement without warning, according to a lawsuit filed last month in the Central District of California. Then, three agents piled on top of Shouhed, hurling curses, as he cried out that he had recently undergone heart surgery and that he could not breathe, the lawsuit said. They ignored his pleas, the lawsuit alleged, handcuffed him and transported him to the Metropolitan Detention Center. Agents kept Shouhed, an Iranian immigrant, in custody for 12 hours after they learned he was a U.S. citizen who naturalized in the 1980s. A neurologist determined Shouhed had sustained a major brain trauma, according to Shouhed’s attorney. While before he was "a real sharp tack" and "a walking calculator," now he is anxious and confused, his daughter said. He used to wake at 6 a.m. daily to attend to the car wash, a disciplined businessman, she said. Now, he sends other relatives to check on operations and often sits in a haze on the couch. "He stares into the abyss," his daughter Rebecca Shouhed said. "His head will be down, looking at the floor, and you can tell he's not there." Adam Goodman, an associate professor of history at the University of Illinois Chicago, said accounts of the U.S. government's targeting of immigrants in the 1980s are eerily similar to current day. "People stop going to stores, to Sunday Mass. They limit doctors appointments," Goodman said. "It really shapes people's lives in a very tangible way, in a very visceral way." Now, however, Goodman said family separation appears more permanent. Detention times have lengthened, and whereas before deported people might be able to return, now there is scant chance of reentering the U.S.'s hyper-militarized border. Kelly LoBianco, director of the L.A. County Department of Economic Opportunity, said areas with dense Latino and other immigrant populations were "continue to disproportionately weather disruptions." Her office has doled out a total of $5.4 million in funds to help provide relief to hundreds of small businesses in hot spots impacted by raids. A report released in February by the county highlights the scale of economic turmoil: In the first week of June, when Trump deployed the National Guard, the nightly curfew downtown resulted in an estimated $840 million in output losses. On Monday, dozens gathered outside of Crenshaw Imperial Car Wash — which has permanently closed — for a tribute to detained workers organized by the CLEAN Car Wash Worker Center. Hundreds of small cardboard signs, each representing a stolen worker, lined a folding table. Among attendees was Alma Ramirez, 31, who said she has struggled to manage her two sons, aged 2 and 7, on her own since her partner, José — who operates a mobile car wash in the city of Watts — was taken in January. An attorney is working to get him released, but the astronomical cost of the bond payment, estimated between $15,000 and $20,000, is daunting. Ramirez said her elder son sometimes bursts out asking, "Why did ICE get my dad? Why does Trump hate us?" She says she does her best to tell him that the system is cruel and wrong, but she doesn't want the anger to fester. "I try to keep my son with a positive attitude. I don't want him to hold hatred," she said. Times staff writer Brittny Mejia contributed to this report.