When Rachel Reyes remembers her son’s last days, she thinks of plans and promise. Ruben Ray Martinez had just turned 23, was a U.S. citizen, and was preparing to move out of the family’s San Antonio home to attend trade school and train as a mechanic. He had an apartment picked out and was looking forward to the year ahead.
On March 15, 2025, Martinez was shot and killed during a traffic encounter in south Texas by an agent later identified as working for Immigration and Customs Enforcement. The Trace, which tracks gun violence, lists Martinez as the first of at least six people killed by immigration agents since the start of President Trump’s second term.
Reyes says the discovery that an ICE agent was involved has compounded her grief. She says she has long respected law enforcement, and the delayed disclosure has left her in a ‘‘constant state of unrest.’’ She still feels there has been no peace.
ICE’s involvement was not disclosed to the family or the public until the watchdog group American Oversight obtained records through a public records request. Among the documents was an ICE incident report asserting that Martinez accelerated his car and struck a federal agent, leading another agent to fire in self-defense. That account differs from body-camera footage and witness statements released later by the Texas Department of Public Safety.
The body-camera video from officers who responded to an earlier crash shows a chaotic scene lasting under 30 seconds. One officer is seen signaling Martinez to pull over; another voice is heard telling him to ‘‘keep going.’’ Martinez’s vehicle moves slowly forward as two officers walk to the front of the car. Three shots are then fired in rapid succession. From the footage reviewed by NPR, it is not clear whether the vehicle struck any officer.
Police reports identify the agent who fired as Homeland Security Investigations Supervisory Special Agent Jack Stevens. In a written statement to investigators, Stevens said he fired in self-defense after seeing fellow agent Hector Sosa ‘‘fall onto the hood of the vehicle.’’ Sosa later reported a knee injury in his statement. How Sosa came into contact with the car is not clear from the video.
Joshua Orta, Martinez’s friend and passenger that night, told investigators Martinez was confused because multiple officers were shouting conflicting commands and was ‘‘panicky’’ about getting in trouble for driving while intoxicated. Orta said the car was moving slowly and that an officer ended up near the hood; he described the contact as incidental rather than a deliberate strike.
Before Orta died in an unrelated crash in February, he gave a written account to Reyes’ lawyer, later shared with NPR. In that statement Orta said Martinez did not strike anyone, that an agent had slapped the hood, and that an agent fired multiple times at very close range without giving warnings or an opportunity to comply. Orta reported hearing Martinez apologize and then slump.
The day after the shooting, a Texas Ranger notified Reyes that her son had been fatally shot by an officer but did not tell her the officer worked for ICE. The delayed disclosure and conflicting official accounts have prompted calls for greater transparency and further review.
In late February, a Texas grand jury declined to indict Stevens. ICE’s acting director, Todd Lyons, told NPR the agency ‘‘stands by the grand jury’s unanimous decision’’ and that the incident was ‘‘investigated from every possible angle by an independent body’’ that cleared the officer.
Democratic Representatives Robert Garcia of California and Greg Casar of Texas have urged an independent investigation into the shooting and the delayed disclosure of ICE’s role. Reyes’ attorney, Charles Stam, says his team is exploring legal options and contends federal agents escalated the encounter by positioning themselves in front of Martinez’s vehicle. Stam says the response from authorities shows an unwillingness to admit mistakes.
Department of Homeland Security policy permits immigration agents to use deadly force when there is a ‘‘reasonable belief that the subject of such force poses an imminent threat,’’ while advising agents to avoid placing themselves in positions where there is no alternative to using deadly force.
For Reyes, the loss is intensely personal. She remembers Ruben as shy at first but goofy and thoughtful, someone who liked feeding stray cats, fixing things, and who was close to his siblings and his nephew. Small, ordinary details—his laughter from across the hall, the smell of the French toast and eggs he was learning to make—are now absent from daily life.
Martinez had told his mother he planned a one-night trip to South Padre Island with a friend and would be home the next day. Instead, Reyes received his urn. On what would have been his 24th birthday and the anniversary of his death, the family maintained a tradition of going out to dinner and saving a seat for him.
Reyes says the unanswered questions, differing official narratives, the delayed acknowledgment of ICE’s role, and the grand jury decision have all deepened her grief. As calls for an independent review continue, she says what she wants most is clarity and accountability. ‘‘He thought he’d have more time,’’ she says of her son. ‘‘We all thought he would have more time.’’