BREAKING: ICE agents are reportedly worried they’ve lost the public trust so dramatically that the agency will be abolished in a bipartisan vote before 5 years, and none of them will get that $50,000 bonus, and they’ll be the latest victims of trusting Trump to pay them.

The worry isn’t coming from protesters or politicians this time. It’s coming from inside the agency itself.

According to multiple accounts circulating among law enforcement circles, ICE agents are increasingly concerned that public trust has collapsed so dramatically that the agency could face abolition within the next five years — not through a partisan fight, but through a rare bipartisan vote. And layered on top of that fear is something more personal and immediate: the belief that the much-discussed $50,000 bonuses they were promised may never arrive.

For many agents, the mood has shifted from confidence to quiet panic.

Just a few years ago, ICE leadership spoke openly about expansion, increased funding, and political backing that seemed unshakable. Agents were told their work was essential, that the public would come around, and that loyalty would be rewarded. Bonuses were floated as recognition for long hours, dangerous assignments, and mounting pressure. Some agents planned around that money. Others stayed in roles they were considering leaving because they believed the promises were real.

Now, many are questioning everything.

Inside the agency, morale is reportedly sinking as agents watch public opinion turn sharply against them. Polling, protests, and viral incidents have transformed ICE from a background enforcement body into one of the most controversial federal agencies in the country. Former supporters have gone quiet. Moderate voices that once defended the agency are now talking about reform, restructuring, or outright dismantling.

What’s rattling agents the most is the political math.

ICE employees are reportedly tracking statements from both Democrats and Republicans who, for different reasons, are expressing doubts about the agency’s future. Some lawmakers frame abolition as a civil liberties issue. Others argue ICE has become too politically toxic, too costly, or too destabilizing to keep as-is. When agents hear words like “bipartisan concern,” alarm bells go off.

That’s when the bonus anxiety comes in.

Among agents, there is a growing belief that if ICE is restructured, defunded, or dissolved, promised payouts will quietly disappear. Some feel they’ve seen this movie before — where political leadership praises law enforcement loudly, encourages loyalty, then moves on once the political cost becomes too high.

Privately, some agents are reportedly saying they feel like they trusted the wrong people.

The phrase “trusting Trump to pay them” has begun circulating bitterly in internal conversations, not as an attack, but as an expression of regret. Agents who believed strong political alignment would protect them now fear they may be left holding the bag if the agency becomes politically expendable. To them, the bonus has become symbolic — not just money, but proof that loyalty mattered.

The sense of betrayal runs deeper than finances.

Agents are increasingly worried about what happens if ICE disappears altogether. What becomes of their careers? Their pensions? Their reputations? Many fear being remembered not as civil servants, but as the face of an agency the country decided to erase. Some worry they’ll become unemployable in local law enforcement. Others fear becoming political scapegoats for years of decisions made far above their pay grade.

At the same time, there’s anger — not just at critics, but at leadership. Agents reportedly feel they were sent into volatile situations without adequate political cover, then watched as officials distanced themselves once backlash grew. Public silence from top figures has only deepened the feeling that the ground is shifting beneath them.

Still, nothing is official. No bill has passed. No vote has been scheduled. ICE still exists.

But fear doesn’t wait for paperwork.

Inside the agency, conversations are changing. Some agents are quietly exploring exit strategies. Others are bracing for reform that could strip the agency down to something unrecognizable. A few still believe the storm will pass and that promises will be kept. But that group is shrinking.

What remains is uncertainty — the kind that keeps people awake at night.

For ICE agents, the fear isn’t just about losing a bonus. It’s about losing legitimacy, protection, and a future they were told was secure. And as public trust continues to erode, many are asking the same question in private that no one is answering in public: when the political dust settles, who will still be standing with them?