The second Trump administration had barely settled in when Rafael Concepcion stumbled upon a Facebook post that would fundamentally alter his life. Maria Hernandez, a New York grocery store owner catering to the Latino community, announced that customers were going into hiding due to increased Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) activity. She offered free deliveries to those too afraid to leave their homes, as sales plummeted.
Concepcion, a second-generation immigrant and Syracuse University professor, was deeply affected by Hernandez’s generosity. He visited her store, spending money and expressing his support. During his visit, he encountered another customer who recognized the Facebook post and wanted to help, demonstrating the immediate ripple effect of fear and resistance. This experience ignited a growing moral outrage in Concepcion, pushing him towards direct action against ICE.
By February 2025, Concepcion published an op-ed in the Syracuse Post-Standard, pledging support against ICE. The article drew swift backlash, but only solidified his resolve. ICE had already tripled daily arrests under the new administration, rendering polite appeals ineffective. Drawing on two decades of tech experience, Concepcion decided to develop a mobile app aimed at educating immigrants about their constitutional rights when confronted by ICE.
Fueled by caffeine and aided by AI tools, he built the app in his electric pickup truck, working late into the night. The project became an obsession. His life became hyper-focused on this mission, simplifying his wardrobe to 30 identical outfits to avoid decision fatigue. When a chef friend’s son, Gabriel, was detained by Border Patrol despite having a pending asylum case, Concepcion intervened, securing his release on bail after weeks of legal work.
This experience revealed the app’s limitations: education alone wasn’t enough when agents ignored rights. Concepcion pivoted, creating a more aggressive tool called DEICER. The app allowed users to report ICE activity by dropping pins on a map, alerting nearby users with real-time information on agent locations—useful for protests or escape.
DEICER launched in July 2025, joining similar crowdsourced tools resisting ICE’s technological superiority. ICE, with its $77 billion budget and Palantir-powered tracking systems, had an overwhelming advantage. The resistance relied on independent operators like Concepcion, who soon collided with trolls, right-wing media, and Apple.
In 2018, Concepcion settled in Syracuse, teaching storytelling and DEI initiatives at the university. He also became a foster parent, taking in a troubled teenager from a high-risk neighborhood. However, as he finalized DEICER, the university informed him a promised professorship was no longer available amidst DEI rollbacks.
DEICER gained over 30,000 users before Apple removed it under pressure from the Justice Department. The app was deemed a threat to law enforcement, with Apple declaring ICE agents a protected class. Concepcion retaliated with modified versions, but Apple refused to reinstate it. He continued developing hyperlocal versions for cities under ICE surges, but these efforts lacked local support.
Siembra NC, an immigrant-rights group, hired Concepcion to build OJO Obrero, a moderated version designed to verify reports rather than provide real-time tracking. The group feared the original model’s chaos.
Just as OJO Obrero entered beta, ICE launched “Charlotte’s Web,” a major operation in North Carolina. Siembra’s representative prepared for the onslaught, but Concepcion realized the true cost of resistance: his job, his privacy, and the ever-present threat of retaliation.
The stakes are high for those opposing ICE. The government’s crackdown on dissent extends beyond immigration enforcement, impacting activists, tech developers, and institutions willing to push back. The case of Rafael Concepcion demonstrates how resistance can come at a personal price, forcing individuals to navigate legal risks, corporate censorship, and the erosion of institutional support.
