ICE Application Letter
To who it concerns,
My name is Hudson Jameson and I am a 25 year old male from Albuquerque, New Mexico. I am a high-school graduate and a full American by birth and descent.
For my whole life I have aspired to be a true patriot. It’s how my mother and father raised me. I believe in the high ideals of our country, and I know we must defend them. That’s why there is nothing more important in this day and age than our President’s “Mission to protect America from cross-border crime and illegal immigration that threaten national security and public safety.” Our country is under attack from forces working outside and inside its borders. The danger is right here on our doorsteps. Today I know I can best serve my country by working for ICE as a Deportation Officer. Keeping America safe is a great honour. It would be my life’s privilege to serve in this role.
Writing Proficiency, I saw, is essential for applying to be a Deportation Officer. So I’ve decided I would tell you my story, starting with the President’s Executive Order closest to my heart: Designating Fentanyl as a Weapon of Mass Destruction. The President made this order just before Christmas last year. And when I saw the news online it made my heart swell with pride and a sense of justice. Because fentanyl is a weapon of mass destruction. I’ve witnessed its effects with my own eyes. Fentanyl has torn my community apart. My family, too. Once I understood how that drug had done its terrible damage, I knew we had to do something about crime and illegal immigration. Our country will be over forever if we don’t. That is why I am applying to ICE.
I do not have previous experience in law enforcement or the military even though I tried to join the Marines when I turned 18. I wanted to protect the peace in the Middle East. But my other work experiences have prepared me for being a Deportation Officer. My first real job when I turned 18 was working on my uncle’s chicken farm. I had lots of different responsibilities there. Each week I oversaw the egg collection and carton filling, making sure all the cartons were closed properly before they went off in the trucks. I decided when a hen had reached the end of its laying life, too, and dealt with its disposal. And when new chickens hatched I would separate the roosters and hens and send the roosters off down the conveyor belt.
At the chicken farm I learned about hard work and long hours in tough conditions. But one experience stands out. It changed the way I saw things. After about three years on the job, some of our livestock came down with the bird flu—maybe about 10,000 of them. The New Mexico state government published guidance for all farms, saying the chickens had to be destroyed. It was necessary to stop the disease spreading across the state and to maintain the health of the population.
Nobody wants to hurt innocent creatures. So this upset me at first. But when my uncle called in my father’s pest control business to help out with the job, I got hands on experience doing important work I had never thought about before. My younger brother Dave already worked for my father, and we were responsible for gathering all the hens into one big hen house and sealing it up in a huge plastic tent. Dave and me then pumped it full of CO2 so the chickens would pass on peacefully and we could dispose of them. My uncle then used a digger to make a hole where we buried most of the destroyed livestock. Some we had to burn because they wouldn’t fit. The whole job took three days, with six rounds of disposal in total.
This was not a pleasant experience. But it had a purpose that made it very interesting and rewarding. It taught me about Responsibility and doing the right thing, even when it is hard. Overall it made me a more moral person and gave me experience conducting and cleaning up lethal operations. That is what being a man and an American is all about. And on this job I think I became more of an American and more of a man.
Once we finished, my father said he could use my help in his business. Pest control is in my family’s blood. My grandfather started our company in 1984. My father joined in 1996, and my brother about a year before me. So it only made sense that I would do it too. And I was proud to join and learn pest-control like the rest of the men in my family. I worked full-time in this role, doing pest control operations around our town and on properties nearby. First I worked with my brother, and later with another employee my father had to hire when things got busy, a half-Black, half-Mexican guy called Vincent. Overall me, my brother and Vincent did maybe three hundred jobs together.
As I worked there I learned to Respect the Authority and Skills of my Superiors, giving me Integrity. Poisoning operations can be dangerous and risky if handled unprofessionally. My father took care to show us how to be safe as possible when spraying and placing poisons. Otherwise people, little kids sometimes, get sick and even die. Their pets, too. I knew I had a duty of care and this made me Aspire to the Highest Standards of Performance and Professionalism. On the job I was very careful and our customers were happy when we cleared out the vermin in their houses and businesses. For some I even went the extra mile and collected the poisoned specimens myself after the job had finished. At work I also learned about Teamwork and Leadership. Me and my brother did not get on well with Vincent, even though I really liked his girl, Gabriela. Vincent lacked respect and that made him dangerous on the job. Sometimes I even told my father to dismiss him. But my brother and me were professionals. So we learned to work with him and teach him lessons when he needed it. Dave and me never did learn to see eye to eye with Vincent, but my success at this job shows I can work with people even when we don’t get on so well.
There’s one experience I want to highlight though, because it shows I can operate in Remote and Dangerous Circumstances. It gave me Courage too. Two years ago now, me, my brother, and Vincent went to a facility out in the desert to do a job. The three of were supposed to spray there for about a week. It was so hot, and the facility—a kind of warehouse filled with subdivided spaces—was basically deserted. It was a riskier job—we were using some serious rodenticides for this place, fumigating some areas too—and we all had to work hard to get it done. But from day one, Vincent was acting up, being a little unsafe as usual, criticising and undermining morale. It did not feel right working with him there. And on the third day there was an accident. Us three were spraying a small room in the facility and Vincent suddenly fell down, unconscious. My brother and I knew it was an emergency so we carried him out of the facility and called an ambulance. We pulled off Vincent's mask and tried to resuscitate him. But by the time they arrived it was too late. Vincent died. Out there in the desert.
Vincent dying was a tragedy and Dave and I were upset, of course. Losing people is never easy. Eventually the coroner’s report came back and the police said it was a case of accidental poisoning. Vincent had a hole in his respirator where the gas we were all spraying got in. They never did work out how that hole got there. Maybe some vermin bit through it the night before. But Vincent didn’t notice until it was too late. He inhaled too much and his heart stopped.
After Vincent died I took on even more responsibility than before. I was working seven days a week, doing the jobs of two people. I was spending my nights trying to support Gabriela too, even though she said she wanted nothing to do with me. I was stretched thin. And then my brother got sick, and things got even harder.
Dave felt so guilty about Vincent passing away that he couldn’t function. So he started skipping work. Most days I would come home and find him passed out on drink. We figured he was traumatised and needed help, a psychologist or something, but he wouldn’t go. Dave said he could never talk to anyone about what happened. So as I worked, doing more and more jobs, Dave got hooked on substances. Opioids. My mother and father became distraught, sick with worry about Dave. We all started to have a lot of problems, fighting as he got more into those drugs, him throwing blame around irrationally. Sooner or later he tried fentanyl. And you can guess what happened then.
My brother was a victim of the illegal fentanyl trade in this country. Without it I think Dave would still be alive. But because he could illegally buy it on our streets from criminals in our town, he got addicted. And he passed away. August 8th, 2024. He was 21 years old.
When Dave passed on our family was traumatised. My father withdrew and stopped speaking to anybody. It got so bad he could barely look me in the eye. But that meant I was now running the whole business, giving me good experience in Leadership. My mother started to cry all the time, yelling at her phone or the TV whenever Tucker Carlson came on to talk about the drug problems ravaging our great country. My mother was so distraught and angry, and she said we needed to get rid of all the people responsible for Dave’s death. That was so hard to see, my mother hurting like that. So I started thinking I had to do something. This kind of Critical Thinking is how I got involved in politics.
All Deportation Officers have a duty to show that they Respect the Constitution and the Founding Principles of the United States. It’s from the Constitution alone that they get the authority to defend the rights of American citizens. My volunteering shows I am committed to the Second Amendment and all it upholds. It’s the only way we can defend our country when it is overrun by tyranny. My family have always been proud gun owners, and knowing how to use guns has helped me to protect my community. In 2025 things got bad when those No Kings protesters were terrorising the streets of our country. I saw on the news that people were rioting, breaking windows and burning cars in the biggest cities. I was so outraged that people would openly defy the Law and Order of our Homeland. So I got a group of patriots together, good Americans I met at the rallies I went to with Dave and my father, and we formed a Civilian Defence Squad to protect the women and children in our neighbourhoods. We first went to the police and said we could offer whatever support they needed it. Then we went out and patrolled the streets of Albuquerque ourselves to protect people and businesses in our community. It was like doing pest control but for our country. Making sure you get the foreign elements out for good.
Deportation Officers also have to answer a grave question: “If you found yourself in a "life-threatening" situation, do you feel you could use deadly force (e.g., use your firearm) to protect your life, the lives of fellow officers, or the lives of innocent bystanders?” My experience on our patrols tells me I could. One day in June when things were getting bad, and we were patrolling with our AR-15s, we encountered group after group of uppity protesters. Using just our words we got them to calm down and go home. But there was one group who wouldn’t listen - Antifa, I think. They fought back against us, throwing all kinds of violent words at us. We held our ground, but that group outnumbered us ten to one. Soon they surrounded us and we all felt very threatened. And it was then that I saw Gabriela.
Gabriela was someone I considered a close friend. A woman I really liked. But that day she was dressed in all black, screaming at us, calling us all kinds of awful names and accusing me of terrible things. My squad was looking to me for leadership, and I was under a lot of pressure, being terrorised by someone I very much admired. Gabriela was becoming so violent, rioting like crazy and riling all the others up, and she needed to calm down. So I made a choice. I aimed my gun and fired some warning shots right over her head. Rubble exploded out from the concrete wall behind her, and she stopped in her tracks. She went totally silent, looking me dead in the eye, and then she called off her friends. They ran home and the neighbourhood was safe.
My gun is a powerful tool I used only in a necessary circumstance. That day it helped me save our city. Even though we did not use lethal force, I sacrificed my relationship to a fine woman for the sake of my community. All this shows I am a proud patriot, unafraid of carrying and using weapons. Even lethally if needed. It is my sincere belief that we should stop at nothing to protect our communities, especially when they are being attacked with Weapons of Mass Destruction like fentanyl. Even if we have to hurt people we love.
After that day last year, I realised I had found my purpose after Dave’s death. I knew I had to help to clean up our country somehow. And once the President declared war on fentanyl, working for ICE became an obvious choice. Because I agree that “America has been invaded by criminals and predators.” They are on our streets. In our schools. Tearing apart our families, giving lethal drugs to our children. To people like my brother. And only committed people who truly love this country can “get them out.” So that’s how I’m going to help my mother, my family, my community, and my country. That’s how I will honour my brother’s memory.
I hope my letter shows how seriously I take this mission. I am an individual who loves America more than himself. Who will defend his community no matter what, who puts the law first in all circumstances. For my brother Dave, my mother, and for America, I want nothing more than to Defend our Homeland and get the predators out.
I thank you for considering my application.
Sincerely,
Hudson Jameson, January 2026.