History Repeats: How the Laken Riley Act Revives Failed Crime Policies

By Paddy Bateman and Brianna Mijangos-Buiza

Baltimore City knows all too well the consequences of zero-tolerance crime policies. Mass stop-and-frisks, discriminatory arrests, and a complete breakdown in trust between law enforcement and the Black community defined Maryland’s previous approach to crime. It was a system that drained taxpayers and ultimately failed, leading to the 2017 Consent Decree, which sought to restore balance and fairness between police and the people they serve.

As we approach the 10-year anniversary of Freddie Gray’s death in April 2025, and reflect on the 2015 Baltimore protests and a history riddled with ineffective crime policies, Marylanders are reminded of the enduring consequences of racial marginalization. Black History Month carries these reflections, urging us to confront the ongoing issues of racial profiling and unjust policing head-on.

Yet, last month, a new law—branded as a public safety measure—threatened to take us back down that same costly and ineffective path. It’s a stark reminder that, despite the lessons of history, the cycle of harm and failure remains all too easy to repeat.

The Laken Riley Act is being championed as a tough-on-crime solution to protect Americans. But beneath the rhetoric and fear-mongering, this law is a new iteration of the failed policies of the past. It mirrors the Zero Tolerance laws that led to mass incarceration, racial profiling, and due process violations. It expands the power of law enforcement to detain and deport undocumented immigrants for a range of offenses, from burglary and shoplifting to assault and bodily harm. It mandates federal action based not only on convictions but on arrests—meaning that an undocumented individual accused of a minor offense could face deportation before having their day in court.

This is where the slippery slope begins. The Laken Riley Act vastly increases law enforcement’s authority to arrest and remove undocumented immigrants, without ensuring their right to due process. The implications go beyond immigration status: This law risks setting a dangerous precedent where entire communities are profiled under the guise of public safety. Historically, laws like these have disproportionately impacted minorities, eroding constitutional protections while fueling systemic discrimination.

We’ve seen this before. The 1994 Crime Bill, passed with bipartisan support, was designed to reduce crime. A 1994 Gallup survey revealed that 58% of African Americans supported it, compared to 49% of white Americans, with many Black mayors grappling with a surge in violent crime also backing the bill. Two-thirds of the Congressional Black Caucus voted for its passage, as did the only Black U.S. Senator at the time, Illinois’ Carol Moseley Braun. Similarly, a January 2025 poll by Gonzales Polling revealed that 76% of those surveyed supported local cooperation with federal immigration officials. The Laken Riley Act, passed with bipartisan backing—46 Democratic House members and 12 Senate Democrats—reflects this pattern of minority support.

History teaches us a lesson: even policies that enjoy broad support can have devastating, unintended consequences. The 1994 Crime Bill, which passed with overwhelming backing, ultimately fueled a rise in mass incarceration, especially in cities like Baltimore. According to the Vera Institute, pretrial detention in Baltimore more than doubled after the bill’s passage, and decades later, incarceration rates were still 50% higher than they were in 1990. The cost of this? Billions of taxpayer dollars, fractured communities, and a criminal justice system that transformed minor offenses into life-altering punishments.

For Black residents—just 31% of Maryland’s population—the burden was especially heavy. They were 4.5 times more likely to be arrested than their white counterparts, bearing the brunt of the consequences of racial profiling. As we reflect during Black History Month, this serves as a reminder of the deep, lasting impacts of racial injustice. The policies of the past left scars that continue to perpetuate cycles of inequality and mistrust, and the fight for a more just society remains ever urgent.

Now, history is poised to repeat itself. The Laken Riley Act opens the door for sweeping law enforcement actions that could expand far beyond the Latino community. If precedent holds, the targeting of undocumented immigrants will bleed into even broader racial profiling, increased incarceration rates for Black communities, and a justice system more focused on arrests than accountability. We’ve seen this playbook before—one that normalizes heavy-handed policing and strips away constitutional rights under the banner of public safety.

Baltimore is still living with the consequences of those policies. The Zero Tolerance era left a legacy of racial injustice, economic stagnation, and deep mistrust between police and the minority communities they serve. Unemployment soared, poverty deepened, and crime rates climbed in response. Cases like Freddie Gray’s—a young Black man who suffered fatal injuries in police custody for a misdemeanor offense—stand as stark reminders of what happens when law enforcement is given unchecked power to criminalize marginalized groups. The Laken Riley Act risks creating a new precedent for such injustices, where deportation replaces incarceration but the core problem remains: a disregard for due process and civil rights.

For Baltimore City, for Maryland, and for the country at large, the question isn’t just about immigration—it’s about whether we are willing to relive the mistakes of the past. The Laken Riley Act doesn’t make us safer; it simply recycles a failed strategy, repackaged in new rhetoric. And if history has taught us anything, particularly this Black History Month, it’s that these policies come at a cost—one that communities like Baltimore will be paying for decades to come.