The TikToker Shot by Federal Agents: How Ricardo Parias Became America’s Longest-Held Journalist in Immigration Custody

Carlitos Ricardo Parias once chased fires and car crashes across South Los Angeles. He filmed them for his TikTok account. Followers grew. Views climbed into the hundreds of thousands. Then last summer federal immigration enforcement intensified in the city. Parias started recording the raids instead. That decision changed everything.

He is known online as Richard LA. His real name is Carlitos Ricardo Parias. He is 44. A father of two. A Mexican national who had lived in the United States for more than two decades. The Intercept reported this week that Parias is approaching 300 days in ICE detention. No journalist has spent longer in U.S. custody. Cockroaches share his cell at the Adelanto ICE Processing Center. Worms swim in the water he is given to drink. His gunshot wound festers. Medical care consists of vitamin D pills and Bengay rub. The arm has turned purple.

But Parias keeps reporting. From inside the facility he documents the conditions. Visitors smuggle out videos. One shows him holding up a plastic bottle. Small organisms wriggle inside. “What I saw looked like an arm that was on the verge of being amputated,” Rep. Sydney Kamlager-Dove said after a visit in May. The California Democrat has introduced legislation to address medical neglect in immigration detention.

The story begins in June 2025. Parias arrived at an immigration raid in South Los Angeles. A federal agent drove into him. Witnesses saw it. Videos captured Parias handcuffed on the sidewalk. He clutched his injured leg. Agents offered no medical help. A Good Samaritan eventually drove him to a hospital. Handcuffs still on. An agent stopped them briefly but let them pass.

Four months later federal agents tried again. This time they boxed in his Toyota Camry near downtown Los Angeles. Body camera footage later released shows unmarked vehicles surrounding him. Agents smashed his window. Parias panicked. He pressed the accelerator. Tires spun. The car went nowhere. One agent fumbled with his gun at the passenger door. He fired. The bullet struck Parias in the elbow. A deputy U.S. marshal was also hit and expected to recover.

Agents then entered a nearby strip mall. They reviewed security footage. Downloaded it to a thumb drive. Deleted the original. Prosecutors charged Parias with assault on a federal officer. U.S. Attorney Bill Essayli posted on X that Parias had “rammed his car into agents’ vehicles” after being boxed in and had “previously avoided capture by immigration authorities.” The post included one screenshot. The full video was never released.

Parias spent days in the hospital. He left on morphine. Transferred to federal criminal custody. Doctors prescribed high doses of ibuprofen for the wound. He received none. In court he twisted in pain. The judge demanded faster treatment. A marshal refused. When his lawyer asked if Parias’s teenage son could hug him the marshal cited security rules and said no. As officers led Parias away the boy shouted “te amo” across the courtroom.

A federal judge later granted bond in the criminal case. Accepting it meant immediate handover to ICE. Parias declined. Authorities moved him to Adelanto anyway. The facility sits in San Bernardino County. Visits from Los Angeles lawyers and family take hours. Prosecutors delayed turning over evidence. Bystander videos contradicted the government account. In December 2025 U.S. District Judge Fernando M. Olguin dismissed all charges with prejudice. He ruled that Parias had been denied access to counsel while in immigration detention. The constitutional violations began there.

Yet the immigration case continues. Parias remains locked up. His wound still hurts. NPR reported in June that eight months after the shooting his lawyer described ongoing pain and inadequate care. Conditions at Adelanto drew wider notice in early August. Videos shared by Parias’s family and obtained by Los Angeles Times showed worms in the drinking water. Detainees had complained for months. L.A. TACO published footage in early August confirming the contamination. Cockroaches scurried across floors. Parias filmed it all.

His journalism did not stop at the gate. It found a new subject. The very system holding him. Through relayed accounts and smuggled clips he exposed what thousands of others endure quietly. Poor food. Contaminated water. Neglected injuries. Government officials say they plan to transfer him soon to a facility in San Diego. There he might receive better medical attention. The move would also isolate him further from family, lawyers and the public eye. His reporting on Adelanto would end.

Immigration enforcement in Los Angeles intensified under the current administration. Operations targeted long-term residents. Many had no criminal records. Parias had stayed under the radar for years. His activism put him on the list. Federal officials described him as an illegal alien from Mexico who had evaded an administrative warrant. They said he weaponized his car. Body camera evidence and witness statements tell a more complicated story. Agents surrounded him suddenly. Windows broke. A gun discharged at close range.

And the numbers add up. Nearly 300 days. Longer than Judith Miller spent in jail protecting sources in 2005. Longer than Josh Wolf in 2007. Longer than Emmy-winning journalist Mario Guevara endured in immigration detention last year before deportation. Parias has surpassed them all. His case raises hard questions about press freedoms when the journalist lacks legal status. Does the First Amendment apply? Can the government use immigration powers to silence criticism of its own operations?

Supporters call him a citizen journalist. A pillar of South Central Los Angeles. The Los Angeles City Council once honored him with a proclamation for covering overlooked neighborhoods. Critics on social media dismiss him as a provocateur who chased agents and obstructed enforcement. One recent X post labeled him a liar and federal criminal whose claims cannot be trusted. The facts remain. Charges dismissed. Wound untreated. Water contaminated. Detention extended.

Parias continues to speak out when visitors come. He holds up the bottle. Points to the creatures inside. Describes the pain that radiates from his elbow. His arm looks infected. Medical staff offer topical cream. Nothing more. Rep. Kamlager-Dove’s visit produced visible shock. She pushed for change. Legislation now sits in Congress. Whether it moves remains uncertain.

Transfers happen often in the immigration system. Facilities fill and empty. Medical complaints surface regularly. Parias’s profile makes this different. His audience still exists online. Clips circulate. Outlets from NPR to local news pick up the story. Each report adds pressure. Each video from inside Adelanto chips away at official silence.

So here he sits. Months after the shooting. Weeks after charges vanished. Days from the 300-day mark. The government can deport him. It can treat the wound. It can improve conditions. Instead the record length of his custody grows. The questions multiply. What message does this send to other independent journalists covering enforcement actions? How far can administrative detention stretch before constitutional limits bite? Parias provides the test case. His reporting from the cell ensures the public sees it.

Recent coverage has amplified these concerns. A post on X from the Freedom of the Press Foundation highlighted the Intercept story and noted the “sustained sequence of violence, prosecution, and imprisonment.” Local outlets like KTLA aired the worm video in early August. Public attention has grown. Yet Parias remains inside. His son still waits for that hug. The arm still throbs. The water still crawls. The story is far from over.