On a Monday afternoon last July, Jacob Hoopes appeared in court for the first time. A few days prior, he’d woken up to find armed FBI agents outside his Portland home. They handcuffed Hoopes and two others who were at the house, raided the home, and took him to jail, where he stayed for three nights.
In court, prosecutors accused Hoopes of engaging in criminal activity during a protest outside Portland’s ICE facility more than a month prior. He was charged for throwing a rock at an ICE officer inside the building, leaving the officer with a gash on his face that required medical treatment. Hoopes was also charged with damaging federal property in excess of $1,000.
While Hoopes was in jail, largely in the dark about his legal situation and worrying about what the future might hold, people began mobilizing on his behalf. His father, Tom, who lived in Pennsylvania, flew to Portland almost immediately after hearing about his son’s arrest. Before Hoopes’ first court hearing, Tom Hoopes led a rally outside the federal courthouse in downtown Portland. Several dozen people showed up to demonstrate their support, many of whom were members of Portland’s Quaker community—a religion the Hoopes family is deeply connected to.
On July 23, 2026, almost exactly a year after he was arrested, Hoopes, now 25 years old, surrendered himself to authorities and began a 30-month prison sentence. He’s now a little more than a month into his sentence at Sheridan Federal Correctional Institution, located about 50 miles southwest of Portland. He was assigned to the facility’s minimum-security satellite camp, meant to house people deemed low risk.
Hoopes’ case played out amid a year of turmoil between the Trump administration and those critical of its actions, specifically its aggressive immigration enforcement tactics. From the government’s perspective, Hoopes’ actions at last summer’s protest were emblematic of the supposed dangers anti-ICE protesters pose to federal law enforcement. Others see the case as representative of the government’s increasingly sophisticated surveillance tactics and growing efforts to tamp down on dissent from the left.
Hoopes is among the few Portlanders to face prison time for their actions at a local ICE protest. His story is unique in other ways, too, including because of the strong network of support he has to help him through the next two and a half years, and beyond.
“If anyone’s going to be doing this, I’m glad it’s me,” Hoopes said, referring to his prison sentence. “I’ve got a lot of folks [rooting] for me.”
In several conversations with the Mercury before Hoopes went to prison, he and his father reflected on how their lives have changed since last July. Hoopes’ arrest forced his parents to reexamine their role in their adult child’s life, and ultimately, they uprooted their lives to be closer to their son. Hoopes and his father also discussed how the case has impacted their Quaker faith and instigated conversations in the national Quaker community.
Earlier this summer, Hoopes’ parents—along with a small army of pets—moved from their home state of Pennsylvania to Portland. For his father, this meant leaving a longtime job at a Quaker boarding school outside Philadelphia. Tom Hoopes was an educator in Pennsylvania for nearly 30 years. Hoopes’ mother, Beth, is an artist.
“Fom a certain point of view, what we’re doing is crazy,” Tom Hoopes said. “But I’m happy to say that not a single person in my orbit has said [that] to my face, or, as far as I know, behind my back. There’s been tremendous affirmation and support for the choice that we’ve made. Because I think there’s a recognition that the universe has called our bluff, and we’re showing up.”
The protest and arrest
On June 14, 2025, tens of thousands of Portlanders gathered downtown for a “No Kings” anti-Trump march. As the demonstration winded down, a few hundred people split from the larger group and headed for the ICE facility in Portland’s South Waterfront.
Small groups of protesters had been gathering regularly at the ICE building for several weeks at that point, in response to Trump’s increasingly frequent and aggressive deportations of immigrants and asylum seekers around the country. Just days earlier, the Trump administration authorized sending thousands of National Guard and Marines members into Los Angeles to quell the large, mostly-peaceful protests that broke out in response to a major deportation campaign there. In the weeks before the protest, several asylum seekers were detained in Portland after attending mandated immigration court hearings.
Hoopes was in the crowd that made its way from the No Kings march to the ICE facility. The group arrived just before 5 pm to an already-heated scene, and tensions quickly escalated further as the crowd of protesters grew. Hoopes said when he arrived, federal agents had already begun deploying tear gas, and someone gave him a gas mask. Federal officers at the ICE building were also shooting less-lethal munitions like pepperballs into the crowd, sometimes hitting protesters.
Hoopes made his way toward the front of the crowd, near the ICE facility’s door. In his sentencing statement, he described the scene that followed.
“I didn’t want myself or others to be shot more, nor did I feel it was right or moral for the armed agents to be shooting people in general, so I tried to help wedge the door shut,” Hoopes wrote. “To ward the armored people back, with adrenaline narrowing my focus and pepperballs and tear gas burning my eyes and skin, I threw a rock at the guards through one of the partially opened doors of the facility.”
In the sentencing statement, Hoopes said though he knew there were people on the other side of the door, he didn’t, at that moment, think he was capable of hurting them.
“At that point in time, I was under the impression that these agents were invulnerable,” Hoopes wrote. “That impression was wrong.”
Prosecutors also accused Hoopes of damaging the ICE facility by accompanying a group of people in striking the door with an upended stop sign. The property damage charge was dropped in Hoopes’ plea agreement, but makes up the bulk of the roughly $8,000 restitution payment he is expected to make. Federal prosecutors sought only $350 for the ICE officer’s medical bills. The officer has chosen not to be identified in court documents.
Hoopes said he was shaken by the events of June 14. But it wasn’t top of mind six weeks later, when he looked out his bedroom window and saw several large, black SUVs pulling up on his street. As he described it, more than a dozen federal agents emerged from the vehicles, armed and wearing bulletproof vests, and headed toward his front door.
Hoopes said his first reaction was confusion, believing the officers had the wrong house. Through the door, he asked the officers to see an arrest warrant, but said his request was ignored. (Court records show officers did receive a warrant the day before Hoopes was arrested.)
It didn’t take long for Hoopes to open the door, fearing for his life if he didn’t. Hoopes, his partner, and his roommate were all taken outside, handcuffed, and made to wait while officers searched their home. Eventually, Hoopes’ partner and roommate were dismissed, and he was taken to jail.
In February, Hoopes pleaded guilty to the assault charge, setting him up for a shorter prison sentence than the possible 20-year sentence prosecutors initially threatened. At his June sentencing hearing, Assistant US Attorney Leah Bolstad urged the judge to issue a 46-month sentence, arguing it was necessary Hoopes get a sentence reflective of what they felt was “perhaps the most aggravated assaultive conduct that has happened at the ICE building this year.”
“At that point in time, I was under the impression that these agents were invulnerable…that impression was wrong.”
Jacob Hoopes
Hoopes’ attorney asked for two years, highlighting his client’s “complete lack of criminal history, his perfect compliance during his pretrial supervision, his deep engagement in his education and his volunteer work, and the vast community support system he has here to keep him grounded.”
US District Judge Adrienne Nelson issued a sentence that fell in between those recommendations, which she felt addressed “the nature and circumstances of the offense and the history and characteristics of the defendant.”
Oregon US Attorney Scott Bradford said the sentencing sent a clear message that “violence is not a protest.”
“When you cross the line and assault a federal officer, you will be prosecuted,” Bradford said in a Department of Justice press release. “My office will continue to pursue those who seek to harm our law enforcement partners.”
Many people were alarmed by the circumstances surrounding Hoopes’ arrest. In court, the prosecuting attorney said the ICE officer who was hit by the rock was unable to arrest Hoopes at the time of the incident. Instead, court records show the FBI was able to find Hoopes using a combination of surveillance cameras and facial recognition technology.
Surveillance video from the June 14 protests captured a person throwing a rock at the ICE facility. The person’s face wasn’t identifiable from the footage alone, but the video depicted certain specific physical characteristics, including a tattoo on his forearm and bracelet on his wrist. FBI agents identified similar characteristics in a person depicted in an Oregonian photo taken the same day. The photo shows Hoopes, a gas mask pushed up above his face, helping a man who had been injured at the protest.
Hoopes was not named in the Oregonian article. But federal agents ran the photo through a facial recognition software tool and found more photos of Hoopes. Their best lead came from a photo posted by Reed College, Hoopes’ alma mater, which identified him by name.
Reed’s former director of community safety provided Hoopes’ address to the FBI. The incident incited outrage among Reed staff, students, and alumni, and the community safety director was later fired for disclosing information to law enforcement without a warrant.
A culture of violence
Over the last year and a half, federal law enforcement and prosecutors around the country have cracked down on anti-ICE protesters. One extreme example of the government’s punitive response happened in response to a July 2025 protest at Texas’ Prairieland Detention Center..
One Prairieland protester was arrested for attempted murder of a local law enforcement officer, but prosecutors didn’t stop there, alleging the incident was part of a wider terrorist conspiracy. Dozens of people were arrested, including several who weren’t at the protest but who prosecutors claimed were part of a threatening “antifa cell.” The consequences were severe—the shooter received a 100-year sentence, and seven of his co-defendants were sentenced to between 30 and 70 years in prison.
Many people were alarmed by the extreme sentences given to the Prairieland defendants, saying the punishments are an example of the government’s willingness to ignore civil liberties to serve its political agenda. While protesters have faced prison sentences, there appear to be few consequences for members of federal law enforcement who have hurt or killed people over the last year and a half.
In January, two people—Renee Good and Alex Pretti—were killed by federal agents in Minneapolis, during separate anti-ICE protests. ICE agents have fatally shot at least 10 people during immigration arrests since Trump’s second term began, with dozens more dying in detention centers.
While some of these cases are under criminal investigation, nobody has been charged for the deaths. The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) agent who shot Renee Good was placed on three days of administrative leave before he was transferred to a new job in the same agency.
Here in Portland, federal agents have repeatedly used chemical munitions on protesters outside the ICE facility. In January, a nonviolent, daytime protest outside the ICE building ended when protesters were hit with a thick cloud of tear gas.
During the June 14 protest last year, several people were injured after being hit with pepper balls. Hoopes says he was hit in the leg with a less-lethal munition that day. One man was hit in the face, nearly blinding him in one eye.
The federal government has justified its aggressive response to anti-ICE protests, claiming protesters in Portland have regularly posed significant threats to ICE and DHS officers. (This was the basis behind the Trump administration’s failed effort to send the National Guard to quell Portland protests, as well as its argument in favor of continued tear gas use outside the Portland ICE facility.)
Recently, the Oregon Department of Justice declined to investigate several complaints alleging federal agents used excessive force on protesters outside the ICE facility.
During Hoopes’ sentencing hearing this June, prosecutors argued that, in fact, federal agents have shown restraint in their response to protests outside Portland’s ICE facility. Bolstad, the prosecuting attorney, said the ICE officer who was struck by the rock described Hoopes’ act as “being one that posed a deadly risk. His actions created a deadly force scenario.”
“And I have to applaud law enforcement for their actions that day and the restraint they showed in not using deadly force against someone who made a series of such bad decisions,” Bolstad said.
Considering the murders of Pretti and Good, among others, Tom Hoopes said he is grateful his son “was not shot dead in the street.”
“Prison is not death, not even close,” he said.
Legally, it’s unclear how protesters can effectively respond to the level of state violence that the Trump administration has shown over the last year and a half, particularly in the wake of a 2022 Supreme Court decision that makes it extremely difficult to bring legal action against federal agents. But Hoopes said he recognizes his approach wasn’t the right one. In his sentencing statement, he reflected on the nonviolent values instilled in him through his Quaker upbringing.
“Quakers, myself included, aim to resolve disagreements peacefully, remaining conscious of the fact that there is something holy in every person. Peace cannot be a temporary goal,” he wrote. “Violence begets violence begets violence, in a cycle that is very difficult to break. In order to build ourselves a peaceful society, our methods must reflect the values of the world that we’re trying to make.”
Hoopes’ Quaker background has played a big role in the media attention given to his case. Some news outlets, including Fox News and the New York Post, fixated on the supposed hypocrisy of a devoted, peaceful Quaker being accused of assaulting a federal officer. Hoopes himself said in his sentencing statement that his actions were hypocritical, noting that he “betrayed [his] Quaker values by violently disregarding the safety of another human being.”
“My actions were not justified, nor were they effective, and I did something that cannot be forgotten or undone,” he wrote. “In all my lifelong, vocal affirmation of the power of nonviolence, I tried to solve a problem in a way that contradicted that belief.”
At the same time, Hoopes said his Quaker background has informed his activism. The Religious Society of Friends, as Quakerism is formally known, has a long history of social justice advocacy. It was among the first major religious bodies to condemn slavery in both England and the United States, with American Quakers taking an abolitionist stance long before the Declaration of Independence was signed. Today, many Quakers have spoken out against ICE and deportations, advocating for the US to be “a society marked by welcome and not one that dehumanizes migrants,” per the Friends Committee on National Legislation.
“The whole reason I was at [the June 14 protest] is because I had a sense that I had to go and be present for people who have been deeply hurt by the Trump administration and its policies, and the individuals who continue to support the administration,” he told the Mercury. “It’s important, as Quakers, to be leaders in the push against that. [But] I made mistakes.”
Tom Hoopes said even though his son’s story isn’t the tidiest for many Quakers to embrace, their family hasn’t been abandoned by the community.
“We were really worried that the Quaker community was going to turn on Jacob and say, ‘He’s not one of us, what he did was beyond the pale,’” Tom Hoopes said. “I’m happy to say that that did not happen.”
“We must keep this from breaking our child.”
Spending time in the United States prison system, even for a relatively short period of time, has a deep impact on people’s lives—often for the worse. Data suggests that more than two-thirds of people who have spent time in prison are rearrested within three years of their release, and half are reincarcerated.
Before beginning his sentence, Hoopes said he was afraid of what he would experience in prison and afterwards. But he also recognized he has certain advantages that are likely to improve his outcomes.
Perhaps the most remarkable of those advantages is the level of support he has found from those around him. In the year between Hoopes’ arrest and the start of his prison sentence, he kept up a robust schedule of work, school, and extracurriculars. Hoopes started taking classes through Portland State University’s Masters of Urban and Regional Planning program, and volunteered with organizations including Depave and at the city’s Sunday Parkways events. He worked as a bartender at McMenamins and showed up regularly to Portland City Council meetings.
Hoopes also spent a lot of time with his parents, who moved across the country to be near him. The family clearly has a warm relationship with mutual respect, even if Hoopes—an adult in his mid-20s—may have occasionally displayed a flash of mild irritation toward his folks while adjusting to their newfound presence in his life in Portland. He and his dad are particularly similar, sharing a deep, almost intense, conversational presence and a discernible earnestness. Both father and son wear decorative wristwatches with the word “NOW” on the face. Tom Hoopes called it “the most accurate watch in the world.”
Hoopes has seemingly always been inclined toward extroversion and community involvement, but he told the Mercury he doubled down on his interests after his arrest.
“I have a lot of different worlds now,” he said. “I think initially it did start as a way to distract myself, and then I discovered that some things I was vaguely interested in, I’m actually very interested in, and I’m willing to put in the work to become competent and knowledgeable about them.”
Many people referenced Hoopes’ community-mindedness in the dozens of letters of support he received ahead of his sentencing.
“Jacob invites people in. As teenagers, I admired and envied his ability to accept and welcome people into his world, to laugh so contagiously, and to imagine so creatively,” one long-time friend wrote. “Jacob has only ever been a model of what it means to be in community with people, of how to bravely be yourself, and how to stand up for what he believes in – simply put, a better and kinder world.”
Hoopes’ extensive support network was mentioned often during his legal proceedings, including by prosecutors at the sentencing hearing.
Bolstad, the prosecuting attorney, appeared to argue the judge shouldn’t give too much weight to Hoopes’ community of friends and family when deciding his sentence. She said giving him a lesser sentence due to his support structure may send the wrong message to a defendant “from an impoverished background and childhood abuse, who has no one show up at sentencing.”
Later in the hearing, when Hoopes had a chance to speak, he acknowledged his advantages, saying he wished everyone had the same level of support that has provided him comfort during such a stressful time.
“I can’t imagine being in that position and not having the level of support [I do],” he said. “This whole process has made me aware that it is going to be part of the rest of my life to make sure that others who go through similar situations have the support that I’ve had.”
Tom Hoopes said he and his wife have oriented their lives around the guiding principle of caring for their children. (He called it a “Prime Directive,” as the Starfleet’s guiding rule is called in Star Trek.)
“When our kids were young, our Prime Directive was to do everything in our power to see to it that they had a happy childhood. Every decision we made was tested against the Prime Directive,” he said. “We thought, when our kids graduated from college, that we had succeeded. Well, turns out the Prime Directive is not over. When this happened, it was back in our faces again.”
Tom Hoopes said since he received the call that his son was in jail last year, his life has been oriented around a goal: “We must keep this from breaking our child.”
The day Hoopes’ sentence started, his father began a countdown on the website he’d created, called “900 Days of Light.” Tom Hoopes calculated his son would be in prison for 900 days, and he hoped to recruit people to “adopt” one of those days in honor of Jacob. Through the website, he encourages people to choose a day between now and January 2029, take a concrete (and nonviolent) action that day, in alignment with their own values, and share it with their family.
“Jacob will be wandering in the proverbial desert for 900 days. We have 900 opportunities to honor his commitment to building a better world,” the website says.
Tom Hoopes has been sharing updates about his son on the website, too. A post from August 15 says Hoopes has been handling his situation well, “given the restrictions on his agency.”
“Jacob is keenly sensitive to others around him, all of whom are also there against their will, for reasons he is not permitted to elaborate. He recognizes that most of them do not have many people closely paying attention to their incarceration as he does,” the blog post continued. “He is finding ways to share the Light, through the kinds of acts of quiet friendship and consideration that those of you who know him personally would instantly recognize as a hallmark of his character. For this and so many other reasons, Jacob is my hero.
