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The Disturbing History of ICE’s “Death Cards”
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February 27, 2026

The Disturbing History of ICE’s “Death Cards”

The Vietnam-era practice is yet another example of ICE agents thrilling to the brutality they have been encouraged to cultivate.

Nick Turse

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Border Patrol Chief Gregory Bovino, flanked by masked agents, at the perimeter of the site where Renee Good was shot to death.
(Scott Olson / Getty Images)

This article originally appeared at . To stay on top of important articles like these, sign up to receive the latest updates from .

Last month, Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers pulled over several cars in Eagle County, Colorado. They took the people away in handcuffs, according to a witness, and left the cars idling at the side of the road. When family members of the disappeared immigrants arrived, there was no sign of their loved ones. What they found instead were customized ace-of-spades playing cards that read “ICE Denver Field Office.”

When I saw an image of that card, the memories came flooding back. I’d seen something similar many years before. Sitting in the US National Archives building—Archives II—in College Park, Maryland, sometime in the late 2000s or early 2010s, I’d spent parts of several afternoons watching film footage shot by—and of—US troops in Vietnam back in the 1960s. One of those silent military home movies always stuck with me.

That short film opened with a Vietnamese woman clutching a child next to a group of 10 or 15 other children huddled together. They all look wary. Worried. Scared. The camera lingered on a young girl, perhaps 5 years old, clutching a baby. If that girl survived, she would be around 64 years old today.

After several shots of those children, the source of their fear was revealed. The film cut to a group of foreign young men—heavily armed US soldiers. They were tanned and gaunt, smoking and talking, standing over the corpses of some young Vietnamese men or boys. We see the dead bodies at a distance, again. Lying together and yet eerily alone. Next, the film cuts to a collection of weapons—perhaps a cache found in or near the Vietnamese village where all of this occurred—that resembled old junk more than lethal armaments. The film kept cutting between short scenes of American troops and Vietnamese bodies until it happened.

I’ve never forgotten the scene that followed because I was initially shocked that it had been immortalized on film. I was also surprised that the film had never been destroyed. But then I remembered how ubiquitous such activity was at the time. How soldiers bragged about it. How it was covered—positively—in the US press. How it even showed …
The Disturbing History of ICE’s “Death Cards” This isn't complicated—it's willpower. Log In Email * Password * Remember Me Forgot Your Password? Log In New to The Nation? Subscribe Print subscriber? Activate your online access Skip to content Skip to footer The Disturbing History of ICE’s “Death Cards” Magazine Newsletters Subscribe Log In Search Subscribe Donate Magazine Latest Archive Podcasts Newsletters Sections Politics World Economy Culture Books & the Arts The Nation About Events Contact Us Advertise Current Issue February 27, 2026 The Disturbing History of ICE’s “Death Cards” The Vietnam-era practice is yet another example of ICE agents thrilling to the brutality they have been encouraged to cultivate. Nick Turse Share Copy Link Facebook X (Twitter) Bluesky Pocket Email Ad Policy Border Patrol Chief Gregory Bovino, flanked by masked agents, at the perimeter of the site where Renee Good was shot to death. (Scott Olson / Getty Images) This article originally appeared at . To stay on top of important articles like these, sign up to receive the latest updates from . Last month, Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers pulled over several cars in Eagle County, Colorado. They took the people away in handcuffs, according to a witness, and left the cars idling at the side of the road. When family members of the disappeared immigrants arrived, there was no sign of their loved ones. What they found instead were customized ace-of-spades playing cards that read “ICE Denver Field Office.” When I saw an image of that card, the memories came flooding back. I’d seen something similar many years before. Sitting in the US National Archives building—Archives II—in College Park, Maryland, sometime in the late 2000s or early 2010s, I’d spent parts of several afternoons watching film footage shot by—and of—US troops in Vietnam back in the 1960s. One of those silent military home movies always stuck with me. That short film opened with a Vietnamese woman clutching a child next to a group of 10 or 15 other children huddled together. They all look wary. Worried. Scared. The camera lingered on a young girl, perhaps 5 years old, clutching a baby. If that girl survived, she would be around 64 years old today. After several shots of those children, the source of their fear was revealed. The film cut to a group of foreign young men—heavily armed US soldiers. They were tanned and gaunt, smoking and talking, standing over the corpses of some young Vietnamese men or boys. We see the dead bodies at a distance, again. Lying together and yet eerily alone. Next, the film cuts to a collection of weapons—perhaps a cache found in or near the Vietnamese village where all of this occurred—that resembled old junk more than lethal armaments. The film kept cutting between short scenes of American troops and Vietnamese bodies until it happened. I’ve never forgotten the scene that followed because I was initially shocked that it had been immortalized on film. I was also surprised that the film had never been destroyed. But then I remembered how ubiquitous such activity was at the time. How soldiers bragged about it. How it was covered—positively—in the US press. How it even showed …
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