Gunfire cut through a quiet Wednesday morning outside the Dallas ICE field office, and within minutes a routine detainee transport turned into a fatal ambush. Authorities later identified the rooftop shooter as 29-year-old Joshua Jahn, who opened fire on an ICE van “indiscriminately,” killing one detainee and injuring two others before turning the weapon on himself, officials said. Investigators recovered shell casings nearby—some etched with anti-government phrases. According to FBI Director Kash Patel, at least one casing was marked
“ANTI ICE,”
with others bearing messages “anti-ICE in nature.” No ICE personnel were physically hurt, but the Department of Homeland Security called it
“an attack on ICE law enforcement,”
underscoring the gravity of firing on a federal operation.
As the scene cleared, fragments of the gunman’s background began to surface, offering few easy answers. The University of Texas at Dallas confirmed that someone matching Jahn’s name and birthdate briefly attended more than a decade ago. Two former friends, who asked not to be named, remembered a teenager more into gaming than politics. One told ABC News,
“Josh was the least political of anyone I knew in high school. He liked playing video games.”
Old online traces appeared to match that picture: a long-dormant Reddit account chatting about marijuana and gaming culture, and a Steam profile tallying more than 10,000 hours across titles like Team Fortress 2, Left 4 Dead 2, and Rust.
National leaders weighed in swiftly. President Donald Trump posted on Truth Social:
“I have been briefed on the deadly shooting at the ICE Field Office in Dallas, Texas… It has now been revealed the [sic] deranged shooter wrote ‘Anti-ICE’ on his shell casings. This is despicable!”
Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem wrote on X that while motive remained unclear,
“our ICE law enforcement is facing unprecedented violence against them. It must stop. Please pray for the victims and their families.”
Inside Jahn’s family, shock eclipsed politics. Reached at her suburban Dallas home, his mother, Sharon, could barely speak through tears:
“I’m sorry, I can’t talk to you right now.”
His brother, Noah, described Joshua as
“not politically interested… He didn’t have strong feelings about ICE as far as I knew.”
The siblings grew up in Allen, Texas, spent years in Boy Scouts, and, according to Noah, Joshua had done some coding but was unemployed and considering a move to their parents’ property in Oklahoma. Though the family owned a rifle and he knew how to use it, Noah added,
“He’s not a marksman, that’s for sure.”
Public records added another layer. In 2016, Jahn was arrested and later pleaded guilty to marijuana delivery between a quarter-ounce and five pounds, receiving a $500 fine and probation—terminated early in 2017 for compliance. He was registered as an independent voter and most recently cast a ballot in the 2024 general election.
Firsthand accounts captured the terror around the ICE facility. Sitting in her car as shots rang out, Denises Robleto began recording video while on a call with her sister. In Spanish, a passenger can be heard saying,
“That’s very close, that’s very close,”
as rapid fire echoed. Robleto stepped out, heard screams from the building, and later told CNN her car was kept for evidence, upending her day’s plans and leaving her worried for her mother, who was inside for an appointment.
“I had never seen anything so stunning and so close before,”
she said.
The investigation rippled beyond the parking lot. A CNN crew saw authorities concentrating on a Toyota with Texas plates outside a nearby office building. Affixed to its side was a sign showing a U.S. map and the message:
“Radioactive fallout from nuclear detonations have [sic] passed over these areas more than 2x since 1951.”
A bomb squad swept the area before anyone approached the vehicle. Search warrants were also executed at properties tied to Jahn in the Dallas suburbs. Whether the car was directly connected remained unclear.
By evening, the outline was stark but incomplete: a rooftop attack on a detainee transport, a shooter who left cryptic messages on shell casings and few public clues to motive, a family in disbelief, and a community rattled by violence that arrived without warning. Investigators continued piecing together how an ordinary morning became a scene of sirens, shelter-in-place warnings, and loss.
If you or someone you know is considering suicide, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255), text “help” to the Crisis Text Line at 741-741, or visit suicidepreventionlifeline.org. You’re not alone.
