http://www.dailybulletin.com/news/ci_6645369

His left leg jittered nervously as he perched on the cold, steel stool. His meaty hands clutched the front of his baggy jeans to keep them from falling. Four years ago, Daniel Centenero-Macias, 34, left his wife and two children and walked across the Tecate border in search of a better life.
At 8:41 a.m. Thursday, the native of Mexico was gathering tools at his sister's home in Bloomington, and about to leave for work at an auto-repair shop.

Less than an hour later, he was a federal prisoner in an Immigration and Customs Enforcement office in San Bernardino.

Centenero-Macias was the first of the three arrests that ICE's Fugitive Operations Team made during a nearly 14-hour sweep of San Bernardino, Colton and Bloomington.

"Once I saw ICE, I realized I'm doomed," Centenero-Macias said in Spanish.

There are 600,000 fugitive immigrants living in the greater Los Angeles area.

Five ICE teams are dispatched daily to seek out those who pose a threat to the community or have ignored a judge's order to leave the United States.

In a dimly lit McDonald's parking lot, six agents slipped on 15-pound black protective vests and strapped holsters onto their right thighs.

The sun wouldn't rise for another 23 minutes, but the team had already been briefed on the day's seven targets.

They were all men who had ignored a deportation order. Most had criminal charges ranging from spousal or child abuse to burglary or petty theft. One was a known Fontana gang member.

The team received one last order - "Be safe. Let's go."

The six-vehicle caravan then headed north on the 215 Freeway.

Because most of the immigrants hold labor jobs, the team assembled at 5:30 a.m. to catch them before they left for work.

"That's one of our challenges in the Inland Empire; everybody leaves for work at 5:30 in the morning," said Virginia Kice, ICE spokeswoman.

Nobody answered the door at the first house.

Agents missed the second man, 43-year-old Roberto Cruz-Hernandez, by mere minutes.

He had a construction gig in Indio, but was expected home at 6:30 p.m.

The fugitive team was waiting.

Cruz-Hernandez was a priority since he was a criminal illegal immigrant and posed a threat to the community. He had served 90 days in jail for false imprisonment with violence and spousal abuse.

"We're trying to take the criminals off the street, that's our primary function," Assistant Field Office Director Eric Saldana said.

It was 6:34 a.m., and the team rolled down Herrington Avenue in San Bernardino and parked across the street from a row of small one-story homes.

Three furious dogs barked at the intrusion.

The agent's knocking rattled the front door.

Nothing.

An agent walked around the corner and rapped on the bathroom window.

Minutes passed before a hefty man with a bushy black beard swung the door open. He peered curiously at the six agents scattered across his lawn.

The man shook his head as five agents filed into his house. One remained on the porch to inspect the five-page list of targets. He called for a photograph to compare with the man.

Wrong man, wrong house.

But at the mint green house next door where the vocal dog lived, so did the fugitive ICE wanted - Luis Casteneda-Flores, 49, of Mexico.

A charge of lewd and lascivious act with a minor under 14 had been dismissed, but he had two counts of willful cruelty to a child.

He wasn't home.

His wife looked apprehensively at the agents crowded onto her porch.

Little did she know, her husband would be handcuffed and led away at 3:30 p.m.

"This is one less individual that really does not belong in our community," said Javier Olmos, Fugitive Operations Unit supervisor.

The team's fifth stop of the day landed Centenero-Macias in a holding cell on G Street in San Bernardino.

He wasn't the target, but he was living in a trailer behind the last known residence of a gang member with a rap sheet for sex offenses and an active warrant for child abuse.

As the cadre of ICE agents walked down Cedar Avenue in Bloomington, a teen boy with spiky black hair nodded in greeting.

When the team passed the white fence with three lions atop pillars leading to his house, the boy lost his smile.

Two Latino men in plain T-shirts immediately sauntered out of the mauve house to see what was going on.

A search of the home did not rustle out the intended target, whom people claimed hadn't lived there for years.

While interviewing the crowd, Centenero-Macias freely admitted he was in the country illegally and had just been released from prison on narcotics charges.

His hands were cuffed behind his back and he was led to a waiting gray van. His sister and housemates crowded the door, glaring at the agents.

"This is probably one of the most dangerous things you can do because you don't know what's waiting for you inside," said Jorge Field, supervising detention and deportation officer. "It's walking into the unknown every time."