© 2026
NPR News, Colorado Stories
Play Live Radio
Next Up:
0:00
0:00
0:00 0:00
Available On Air Stations

A deadly standoff in 1992 changed federal use-of-force rules. Here's why it matters

A makeshift memorial for Renee Good, who was fatally shot by an ICE officer on Jan. 7, is seen on Jan. 20, in Minneapolis.
Angelina Katsanis
/
AP
A makeshift memorial for Renee Good, who was fatally shot by an ICE officer on Jan. 7, is seen on Jan. 20, in Minneapolis.

The death of Renee Macklin Good, a Minnesota mother who was shot by an immigration enforcement agent in South Minneapolis earlier this month, has raised questions about the Department of Homeland Security's use-of-force policy.

But among federal leaders, the questions appear only to be coming from Democrats. The lack of widespread inquiry over policies that may have factored into a high-profile death involving a federal agent has drawn comparisons to another episode, more than 30 years ago, that prompted sweeping changes.

In August of 1992, in an incident often referred to as "Ruby Ridge," armed federal officers were engaged in an 11-day standoff outside a cabin in northern Idaho. The agents were tasked with arresting Randall Weaver, a white separatist, over his failure to appear in court on charges that he illegally sold firearms to an undercover government agent. Ultimately, three people died: a deputy U.S. marshall, Weaver's 14-year-old son and Weaver's wife. Weaver had connections to the neo-Nazi Aryan Nations and held antisemitic, anti-government beliefs. Though many in policy-making and legislative positions may have found his views repellant, that did not distract from bipartisan concern that the federal enforcement operation may have overstepped constitutional bounds.

"If you take the rules of engagement [at Ruby Ridge] on their face and in a vacuum, they are unconstitutional," then-Deputy Attorney General Jamie Gorelick testified during an October, 1995 Senate subcommittee hearing about the incident. It was during those hearings that Gorelick announced to senators that the Department of Justice had, as a result, formulated its first "uniform, written deadly force policy" applicable to all of its law enforcement agencies.

This Aug. 23, 1992, file photo shows Randy Weaver supporters at Ruby Ridge in northern Idaho. A 1992 standoff in the remote mountains of northern Idaho left a 14-year-old boy, his mother and a federal agent dead and sparked the expansion of radical right-wing groups across the country.
Jeff T. Green / AP
/
AP
This Aug. 23, 1992, file photo shows Randy Weaver supporters at Ruby Ridge in northern Idaho. A 1992 standoff in the remote mountains of northern Idaho left a 14-year-old boy, his mother and a federal agent dead and sparked the expansion of radical right-wing groups across the country.

"The paramount value of human life"

John Cox, a retired FBI agent, began his career at that agency two months after the DOJ's new use-of-force policy took effect.

"The use-of-force policy for the department started from the notion of the paramount value of human life, that we're holding that top of mind," Cox said.

Cox, who had previously been an assistant U.S. attorney in Washington, D.C., before pivoting to the FBI, served as an agent there for seven years. He said through training scenarios, the agency taught them that deadly force may only be used when the subject of the force presents an imminent danger to the officer or another person. But Cox said the instruction went even further, to impress upon new recruits that they could only use deadly force when there was no safe alternative available to them.

"It was stricter than the constitutional standard, so it actually restricted when you could use deadly force in accordance with the policy because you were elevating and honoring human life, and that's what you were trying to preserve," Cox said. "So there were instances where maybe constitutionally you could use deadly force, but the policy said no."

Cox said during his career as an agent, he encountered situations where targets threatened him or others. In some of those cases, where firing a weapon would have created risk to himself or others nearby, Cox said his training supported the judgment that it was safer to let the target go. In at least two cases, he was able to arrest the target later that day, or the next day.

Cox said that had Jonathan Ross, the immigration enforcement agent who fired at Good, been an FBI agent, the department would look particularly at his position at the time of shooting.

"Without knowing all the facts – and I don't know all the facts – if stepping out of the way was a reasonable alternative, then, under the policy that I was trained on, the department would have expected you to step out of the way," he said.

Federal Bureau of Investigation special agent-in-charge Gene Glenn talks to reporters in Naples, Idaho on Aug. 30, 1992.
Gary Stewart / AP
/
AP
Federal Bureau of Investigation special agent-in-charge Gene Glenn talks to reporters in Naples, Idaho on Aug. 30, 1992.

Looking at DHS use-of-force policy

In 2023, during President Joe Biden's term, the DHS updated its use-of-force policy. It emphasized the importance of "no reasonably effective, safe, and feasible alternative" in its framework, and "respect for human life" as first among its general principles. However, the policy was an administrative update, not codified by statute. Since President Trump took office, his administration has taken a starkly different posture.

In the days following Good's death, White House adviser Stephen Miller addressed the issue during an appearance on Fox News. The Department of Homeland Security's X account reposted the clip.

"To all ICE officers: you have federal immunity in the conduct of your duties," Miller said. "Anybody who lays a hand on you or tries to stop you or tries to obstruct you is committing a felony."

Rep. Delia Ramirez, D-Ill., told NPR she believes this has created space for Congress to act. She and Rep. Seth Magaziner, D-R.I., have co-sponsored the DHS Use of Force Oversight Act to establish a baseline policy.

"What my bill does, it actually codifies and mandates by Congress a legislative requirement that it doesn't matter if it's Trump's ICE, Biden's ICE, Democrats' ICE or whoever," Ramirez said. "They now have to abide by the policy that is set, regardless of who's in the leadership or who is running DHS."

In this Sept. 6, 1995, file photo, photographers capture the arrival on Capitol Hill in Washington of Randy Weaver, left, and his attorney Gerry Spence for a hearing of a Senate Judiciary subcommittee.
Dennis Cook / AP
/
AP
In this Sept. 6, 1995, file photo, photographers capture the arrival on Capitol Hill in Washington of Randy Weaver, left, and his attorney Gerry Spence for a hearing of a Senate Judiciary subcommittee.

In 1995, when senators questioned Randy Weaver in a subcommittee hearing over the Ruby Ridge standoff, some asked pointed questions about his political beliefs, including whether he had swastikas in his home. Weaver had testified to having attended a handful of conferences on the compound of Aryan Nations, also in northern Idaho. He had also been photographed with his family wearing a T-shirt alluding to an antisemitic conspiracy theory.

Despite disagreement with Weaver's politics, however, legislators at that time appeared to agree that the policy and conduct of federal agents merited scrutiny. Ramirez said that she would like to see a similar discussion today.

"This should not be a controversial bill to sign on to," Ramirez said. But she said that the administration's rapid characterization of Good's activities as "domestic terrorism" complicated further movement. "It leaves very little room for a real dialogue of 'Let's talk about the policy.'"

So far, no Republicans have signed onto the bill.

"But I am not very optimistic that enough of them will understand how critical this is," she said. "With that said, I'm not going to lose hope."

Copyright 2026 NPR

Odette Yousef
Odette Yousef is a National Security correspondent focusing on extremism.