In LOS ANGELES, the presence of federal agents in tactical outfits at Home Depot stores across Southern California is forcing undocumented day laborers into a difficult choice: the need for income weighed against the danger of arrest or deportation.

On Friday, amid intensified immigration enforcement by the Trump administration, at least two parking lots at Home Depot locations in the Los Angeles vicinity were raided. Day laborers were apprehended in areas like North Hollywood and Alhambra, while organizers demanded to see warrants and gathered as much information as possible from those who were handcuffed.

This scenario has become a common occurrence this summer for day laborers. They struggle to find regular work in a local economy that is still recovering from the January wildfires and the increased building costs due to tariffs.

Each morning, these workers congregate in parking lots, hoping to secure a day’s pay, or ideally, a long-term project that could provide financial stability for weeks or even months.

However, the ongoing threat of being detained is taking a serious emotional toll on many laborers, who report feeling traumatized and suffering from sleepless nights after witnessing the arrest of friends and relatives.

Arturo, a day laborer residing in Los Angeles, expressed in Spanish, “What can you do? You can’t afford to stay home in this country. You need money for your kids, bills, rent, and food.”

Arturo and other laborers interviewed by NBC News spoke on the condition of anonymity because they feared being targeted by Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents or other federal officers.

Friday’s Home Depot operations took place about a week after Roberto Carlos Montoya Valdez, a day laborer from Guatemala, died after fleeing from agents at a Home Deport parking lot in Monrovia. He ran onto a nearby freeway and was hit by a car.

Immigration advocates and community members said Montoya, who was in the U.S. without legal authorization, was not a criminal but a hardworking father.

“He came here to work hard. My uncle was not a criminal,” his niece, Mariela Mendez, told mourners during a vigil last week for Montoya. “He wanted what a lot of us want: a better life.”

The Department of Homeland Security said Montoya was not being pursued by federal agents when he died.

Home Depot declined to comment on his death or say how many arrests have occurred on its properties.

“We aren’t notified that ICE activities are going to happen, and in many cases, we don’t know that arrests have taken place until after they’re over,” the Atlanta-based company said in an emailed statement. “We’re required to follow all federal and local rules and regulations in every market where we operate.”

Sitting in his truck parked close to where Montoya started running, Jose quietly sobbed as he looked at the small tree where his friend used to lock up his bike every morning.

Jose said he had known Montoya for about five years and described him as friendly and chatty with the other workers who assembled every morning in the parking lot.

On the day Montoya died, Jose said he arrived a few hours later than usual and was confused by all the commotion. Helicopters roared overhead and traffic came to a standstill.

“It’s like it happened to all of us,” he said in Spanish through tears. “We all know each other. We’re all the same.”

Jose said that returning to the scene of Montoya’s death was heartbreaking, but his choices were limited. He needs to work, and the idea of not earning money every day keeps him up at night.

“He wasn’t a criminal. He wasn’t a bad guy,” Jose said, adding that he doesn’t understand why Montoya ran onto the freeway. “I wish he had taken his chances with an immigration judge.”

A few paces away, Felipe stood in the shade of a tree, waiting for someone to hire him. He has lived in the U.S. since 2015 and worked in restaurants until the Covid pandemic crippled the industry, he said. He has returned to this Home Depot most days for five years, but the opportunities have dried up, he said. First it was the wildfires, then it was the tariffs and now it’s the fear of immigration enforcement.

Felipe remembers a time when he could pick and choose which jobs to do on which days. Now, he’s lucky to be hired even for a few hours.

“Thank God I wasn’t here when they got Carlos,” he said. “I’d be in Mexico without clothes.”

When asked about the last time he saw Montoya, Felipe pointed to the little tree nearby.

“He was sitting there talking with somebody,” Felipe said. “He seemed happy.”

Nancy Meza, an organizer with the National Day Laborers Organizing Network, works with dozens of volunteers stationed at Home Depots across Southern California. They patrol parking lots and street corners, watching for incoming signs of immigration enforcement activity. When spotted, volunteers signal each other in a group chat and shout warnings to nearby workers.

Meza said she hears a mix of stress and determination from day laborers. Many vow to continue working for a sense of normalcy and to maintain a steady income, despite the personal cost.

“There’s a feeling of, ‘If we stay home and just sit back in fear, it makes things worse, we feel really anxious, powerless,’” she said. “They would rather take their chances.”

Standing outside a different Home Depot on a blistering hot day, Arturo said he has lived in the United States for 25 years and regrets not learning English or trying to become a citizen. When he first arrived, he said, he was too embarrassed to attend night classes covered in sweat and paint after a day’s work.

The citizenship process also is costly and time-prohibitive, he said, noting that many of his friends who managed to obtain lawyers and go through the process said it cost them some $15,000 and nearly a decade of waiting. Arturo thought his time would be better spent earning money so he could leave sooner.

Like many undocumented people, Arturo intended to return home to Mexico within a few years of arriving. But he fell in love and had two children. They are now teenagers and he can’t leave them behind, he said. If he took them to Mexico, he worries they would feel too out of place in a country they have never visited.

Instead, he encourages them to study hard and attend college. To help make that happen, he works six days a week, leaving Sundays open to spend with his children and attend church.

He said the benefit of what he is doing outweighs the risk.

“All you can do is work to survive,” he said. “Immigration or no, people come out because they have to eat.”