Polk County Sheriff Grady Judd announced 266 arrests Friday after a multi-day undercover operation in central Florida that targeted human trafficking, prostitution, and suspects attempting to meet children for sex. Among those swept up: a pardoned Jan. 6 Capitol riot participant, a self-described "MAGA influencer," an illegal immigrant who allegedly brought his wife to engage in prostitution, and a man with a high-level military security clearance.
The operation, dubbed "Polk Around and Find Out," drew suspects from 11 states and 18 countries. Judd said the 266 people arrested collectively carried 1,028 prior criminal charges, and that his deputies tacked on 439 more.
Of the total, roughly 247 arrests were tied to prostitution and human trafficking investigations. Another 19 suspects face charges related to child exploitation, including traveling to meet minors for sex. Authorities said 34 of those arrested were in the United States illegally.
Sheriff Judd names names
At a Friday news conference, Judd did what he has become known for: he put faces and details to the arrests. As Fox News Digital reported, the sheriff walked through what he called some of the "more outrageous events" uncovered during the operation, singling out suspects whose backgrounds or behavior made the cases especially notable.
Ryan Yates, of Odessa, Florida, had previously been convicted in the Jan. 6 Capitol riot and later pardoned. None of that mattered to Judd.
Judd told reporters:
"He got away with it with a federal system. But not here. He came here to violate the law. We arrested him."
Then there was Craig Long II, a 41-year-old Tampa-area fitness business owner who describes himself on X as "MAGA to the core." Judd singled him out and made clear that political branding buys no leniency in Polk County.
As Fox News Video coverage of the news conference showed, Judd addressed Long's online persona directly:
"Well, I'm going to give him some content for his social media today. He was a previous felon who straightened up, really, what we want to see in life. Now he's an influencer."
The message was plain. Judd does not grade on a political curve. The law applies to everyone who comes to Polk County looking for trouble, regardless of which flag they wave.
Children in the crossfire
The most disturbing details involved children. Shannon Brooks, of Haines City, Florida, allegedly brought a 7-year-old into a room during a sexual encounter and left the child in a bathroom. Judd said Brooks told the child not to answer the phone, quoting her words in blunt terms at the podium.
Judd described what Brooks allegedly told the child:
"Don't answer the mf-ing phone. This is the kind of parenting that we want? Come on, man. What are you doing?"
The sheriff called it "a very sad situation", and for once, that phrase does not feel like understatement. Cases like these are a reminder of why law enforcement continues to treat prostitution stings as more than low-priority vice work. The people harmed most are often the most vulnerable.
In a separate case, 37-year-old Derek Partita allegedly left a 10-year-old child in a car while attempting to meet a prostitute. The scale of recklessness on display across these arrests is hard to overstate.
Crimes against children remain a growing focus for law enforcement nationwide. An Alabama father and son recently received a combined 84 years in prison for running a sex trafficking ring targeting women and minors, another case where the sentences reflected the gravity of the offenses.
Illegal immigrants, government employees, and security clearances
Judd also highlighted Uno Garcia, described as an illegal immigrant from Cuba, who allegedly brought his wife to engage in prostitution. Judd's quip, "So, it's kind of a family affair", landed with the dry bite that has made him one of the most-quoted sheriffs in the country.
The fact that 34 of those arrested were in the country illegally raises its own questions. If you are here unlawfully and you commit additional crimes, the system has failed at multiple checkpoints before a local sheriff's sting finally catches up with you.
J.R. Jackman, 27, drew attention for a different reason. Judd said Jackman held a high-level military security clearance. The sheriff asked the room a pointed question:
"Don't you feel comfortable knowing a guy with top security clearance is coming to meet a prostitute?"
The concern is not abstract. A person with access to sensitive national security information who engages in illegal activity is, by definition, a blackmail risk. That is not a political opinion. It is a basic counterintelligence reality.
Meanwhile, county utilities employee Salvador Villarel allegedly showed up to the sting in a government vehicle. Judd summed up the consequences:
"He doesn't have the county truck. He doesn't have the county job. But he does have the county jail."
A taxpayer-funded truck driven to a prostitution meetup is the kind of detail that sticks. It captures something about the brazenness of the people caught in this net, and the value of operations designed to catch them.
Why these stings matter
There is a persistent argument in certain policy circles that prostitution enforcement is a waste of resources, a victimless-crime distraction from real policing. Judd has heard it before, and he pushed back hard Friday.
"People that think, 'Oh, this is low-level and not violent', yeah, that's wrong. It is violent, and it's dangerous."
The numbers back him up. A sting that nets 19 people accused of trying to meet minors for sex is not a low-level vice sweep. It is a child-protection operation. And the 247 prostitution-related arrests often intersect with trafficking networks that exploit women and girls who have no real choice in the matter.
Federal prosecutors have pursued similar cases aggressively in recent years. A former FBI most-wanted fugitive recently pleaded guilty to child sex trafficking of a teenage girl, underscoring the scope of the problem across jurisdictions.
The exploitation of minors online has also drawn increasing attention. In one case, a Roblox programmer in New Orleans now faces 237 total counts in a child sex abuse material case, a reminder that predators operate across every platform and every community.
Polk County's operation involved federal, state, and local agencies working together. That kind of cooperation is exactly what produces results at scale. It is also the kind of work that rarely generates the headlines it deserves, unless you have a sheriff willing to stand in front of cameras and put names on the board.
The Judd model
Grady Judd has been sheriff of Polk County since 2005. His news conferences have become something of a national phenomenon, blunt, detailed, and unapologetic. He names suspects. He describes what they did. He does not hide behind bureaucratic language or worry about whether the details make people uncomfortable.
That approach draws critics. But it also draws results. When a sheriff tells the public exactly who was arrested, what they were doing, and what they had in their background, it serves two purposes: accountability and deterrence.
The suspects arrested in "Polk Around and Find Out" came from 11 states and 18 countries. They included a pardoned rioter, a social media personality, a military clearance holder, a county employee in a government truck, and parents who allegedly put their own children in harm's way. All cases remain pending.
Recent cases across the country have shown that when law enforcement acts decisively, vulnerable people, especially children, are more likely to be found and protected. A missing Ohio teen was found safe in a Florida hotel after a weeks-long search, with a suspect taken into custody. That outcome required the same kind of relentless police work on display in Polk County.
Sheriff Judd's message Friday was not complicated. It did not require a policy paper or a think-tank panel. It boiled down to something most Americans already understand: if you come to Polk County to buy sex, exploit a trafficking victim, or meet a child, you will be arrested, you will be named, and you will be held to account.
In an era when too many jurisdictions treat law enforcement as a problem to be managed rather than a service to be supported, that kind of clarity is worth more than another round of hand-wringing about root causes.
