Over the last few weeks, some local municipalities have been kicking around the question of whether local police should help enforce federal immigration laws.

In communities once dominated by faces covered in coal dust, new faces from new places shift some of the thinking.

The answer has become more personal and more expensive.

Lately, Washington has been pushing a tempting offer in front of small police departments.

On the surface, it seems pretty simple: sign up for ICE’s 287 (g) program, let your officers become deputy immigration agents and we’ll pay for their salaries, overtime and bonuses. And we’ll throw in cash for new cruisers and body armor.

For area police departments running on shoestring budgets, it’s not just enticing — it’s transformative.

Already, Nesquehoning and Weatherly have signed on to the program. It’s been discussed at a recent meeting in Lansford — a place already struggling with policing issues — though not implemented.

Our neighbors in several Schuylkill County jurisdictions — boroughs, townships and even the county — have jumped on the bandwagon.

It seems like a good idea, right? Who would argue with better trained officers, some extra cash and shiny new cruisers just for catching criminals?

Turns out that several folks just might do that.

Even with the benefits of the ICE offerings, small departments might face risks that outlast all the cash.

When locals join ICE, the officers stop being just neighborhood cops and take on the duties of federal immigration enforcers.

They’re trained to ask about citizenship, run people through ICE databases and hold people longer than they otherwise would, often by transport to an ICE-approved facility.

Taking on those duties can change the way residents see police.

The cop, who used to respond to a domestic violence call or a broken window or a parking complaint, might also be asking questions like where were you born.

What happens next is becoming more the norm all across the country.

People stop calling 911. Witnesses disappear or change stories.

Sometimes, crime victims keep quiet because they’re afraid calling the cops could mean they or a family member could be deported. That just doesn’t threaten undocumented folks, it makes a community less safe.

There’s also a legal risk where departments involved with ICE have been sued for civil rights violations, especially if lawful residents were held by mistake.

For a borough with small annual budgets, consequences from those lawsuits can make the cost of a new cruiser look like paying for a pack of gum.

Transporting someone to a local ICE facility pulls officers off the streets for hours. In departments struggling with staffing issues, losing an officer even for half a shift matters.

The answer to all this is somewhere in between.

Perhaps governments can draft a plan that allows police to do their jobs without becoming a local branch of the ICE offices.

Local cops don’t question someone’s status, the municipality doesn’t sign any agreements, and ICE detainers aren’t honored unless a serious crime or court order is involved.

In return, locals don’t get the grants, the salaries or the cruisers.

Like anything else in local government, it’s a trade-off.

Take the ICE money and become part of something that’s seen by many as hostile, or keep the local cops focused on community policing and the trust that makes it work.

Around here, it’s a good bet that trust is a lot more valuable in police work than the best equipment a department owns.

Federal money is available for a bunch of things, but there are no federal grants for trust. Once it’s gone, it’s not easy to rebuild.

The short-term cash that an ICE affiliation might bring looks good on paper.

But the long-term costs brought by less cooperative residents, legal liabilities and police force that’s been distracted can last a lot longer after a grant dies up.

In the end, it’s probably better for small departments to stay focused on protecting everyone in its jurisdiction without sorting everyone by citizenship.

Even if it means tearing up a check from Washington, it’s a line worth holding.

ED SOCHA | tneditor@tnonline.com

Ed Socha is a retired newspaper editor with more than 45 years’ experience in community journalism.

The foregoing opinions do not necessarily reflect the views of the Editorial Board or Times News LLC.