The recent use of a laser directed energy weapon to down an aerial object near El Paso, and the chaotic aftermath that followed, have laid bare the complicated legal authorities, safety concerns, and interagency friction that continue to hamper America’s ability to defend its own skies from small drone incursions.
What unfolded over the border city last week marked a historic milestone and a cautionary tale. According to multiple reports, personnel from U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP), reacting to what they believed was a cartel-operated drone, used a high-energy laser system to disable the object. The system — identified by Reuters as the LOCUST developed by AeroVironment — had been loaned to CBP by the United States Army.
The object, however, reportedly turned out not to be a drone at all, but a Mylar balloon.
The incident is believed to be the first publicly known operational use of a laser weapon to shoot down an aerial object over the U.S. homeland. Instead of providing a clean demonstration of cutting-edge counter-drone technology, it ignited a dispute between federal agencies and triggered a temporary shutdown of airspace over one of the nation’s busiest border corridors.
As CBP employed the laser system, the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) was reportedly conducting a safety assessment of the risks posed by the new directed energy capability. According to The New York Times, FAA officials had warned the Pentagon that if they were not given sufficient time and technical data to conduct their review, they would be forced to close nearby airspace.
That warning ultimately materialized. Airspace over El Paso — the 23rd largest city in the United States — was temporarily shut down, disrupting civilian air traffic and raising broader questions about coordination between military and civil aviation authorities.
The tug-of-war between the Department of Defense and the FAA illustrates a fundamental dilemma: the United States faces a growing threat from small drones, but its domestic airspace is heavily regulated, densely populated, and legally complex.
In a combat zone, lasers and kinetic interceptors can be used with comparatively fewer concerns about stray beams or falling debris. Over an American city, however, the calculus is far more complicated.
Officials at United States Northern Command (NORTHCOM), which has coordinating authority for homeland counter-drone operations, have previously acknowledged the risks associated with using directed energy weapons domestically.
At Falcon Peak 2025 — a counter-drone experiment held at Peterson Space Force Base in October 2024 — NORTHCOM Deputy Test Director Jason Mayes underscored the uncertainties surrounding laser employment in civilian airspace.
“The biggest thing right now is the impact of the laser when it moves beyond its target,” Mayes said at the time. He questioned how far a beam might travel if it missed or penetrated its intended target, how long it must dwell on a target to cause structural failure, and what risks it could pose to passing aircraft, satellites, or even civilians on elevated terrain.
Those concerns are not theoretical. High-energy laser beams can extend significant distances, and reflections or unintended propagation could potentially pose hazards to commercial aircraft cockpits or sensitive optical sensors in orbit. Unlike in overseas theaters of war, the U.S. homeland requires strict integration with civilian aviation systems and international aviation safety standards.
Military officials have insisted they are working to mitigate these issues and develop robust safety protocols. Mayes expressed confidence last year that approval for homeland laser use could eventually be secured.
The El Paso episode suggests that at least limited approval has now been granted — though the scope and legal framework of that authorization remain unclear.
At the heart of the controversy is a tangled web of statutory authorities governing counter-drone operations inside the United States.
Under a federal statute commonly referred to as 124n, the Departments of Homeland Security and Justice — including CBP — possess limited authority to mitigate drone threats domestically in order to protect designated facilities and assets. That authority was recently expanded under provisions of the Fiscal Year 2026 National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA), particularly through what lawmakers dubbed the “Safer Skies Act.”
However, those powers are not universal. They apply only to defined threat scenarios and specified facilities.
Meanwhile, under another statute known as 10 U.S. Code §130i, the Department of Defense can mitigate drone threats to protect military installations and missions inside the United States. But it does not possess general domestic airspace policing authority.
This division of responsibilities means that while NORTHCOM may control troops and equipment — such as the LOCUST laser — the military cannot simply engage aerial objects over civilian areas without coordination and legal cover.
That dynamic likely explains why CBP, rather than uniformed Army personnel, reportedly operated the laser system during the El Paso incident.
The use of LOCUST may also be connected to a pilot program authorized under the Fiscal Year 2026 NDAA. The legislation calls for at least four military installations to accelerate development of counter-drone technologies, including systems “capable of destroying or disabling a small unmanned aircraft by means of high-powered microwave, laser, or other similar technology.”
One potential site is Fort Bliss, located adjacent to El Paso. The base houses significant Army air defense units increasingly tasked with counter-UAS missions. It is also a major hub for border security operations conducted in cooperation with federal law enforcement agencies.
No official list of pilot program sites has yet been released. But Fort Bliss’s geography and mission profile make it a logical candidate.
If the laser system deployed near El Paso was part of this accelerated experimentation effort, it would underscore how rapidly counter-drone capabilities are being pushed into operational environments — even as policy frameworks struggle to keep pace.
In January, the recently established Joint Interagency Task Force 401 announced updated guidance for counter-UAS operations. The new framework, signed by the Secretary of Defense in December 2025, streamlines detection and mitigation policies under Section 130i.
The guidance empowers installation commanders to take decisive action to protect facilities, assets, and personnel. Notably, it eliminates the previous “fence-line” limitation that restricted defensive measures to areas immediately adjacent to base perimeters.
Commanders now have expanded defensive space and greater flexibility. Service secretaries are also authorized to designate additional installations as “covered facilities,” increasing the number of sites eligible for active counter-drone measures.
The Pentagon has emphasized that every commander retains the inherent right of self-defense. It also now has greater latitude to share UAS track and sensor data with DHS and the Department of Justice, and to employ trained contractor personnel as counter-drone operators.
Yet even with expanded authorities, practical constraints remain.
Small drone incursions along the southern border are not hypothetical. Mexican drug cartels routinely employ drones for surveillance, smuggling, and — increasingly — to deliver explosives in Mexico. Cross-border overflights into U.S. airspace have been reported for years.
The El Paso incident gained added political intensity after the White House initially asserted that a cartel drone had been shot down. Subsequent reporting that the object was in fact a Mylar balloon raised questions about identification protocols and decision-making thresholds.
Even if the target was benign, the response highlights how seriously federal agencies are now treating aerial incursions.
The broader strategic concern is that inexpensive, commercially available drones can threaten military installations, critical infrastructure, public events, and border security operations. The United States will host the 2026 FIFA World Cup and the 2028 Summer Olympics, both of which present high-profile security challenges.
Lawmakers have moved to expand counter-drone authorities in anticipation of those events. But expanding authority does not automatically resolve interagency coordination issues or technical safety concerns.
The limiting factor for installation commanders is not merely legal authority. It is also the technical range of their counter-UAS systems and the ability to coordinate with surrounding communities and aviation stakeholders.
Laser systems like LOCUST offer advantages over kinetic interceptors. They produce no explosive debris and have deep magazines limited primarily by power supply. But they require precise targeting, clear atmospheric conditions, and rigorous safety controls.
High-powered microwave systems present their own risks, potentially affecting unintended electronics.
Traditional kinetic interceptors — from missiles to gunfire — pose unacceptable collateral hazards in urban settings.
Thus, the promise of directed energy is alluring. Yet the El Paso case demonstrates that deploying such systems in complex civilian airspace demands airtight coordination between military, law enforcement, and aviation regulators.
To the knowledge of officials familiar with the matter, the El Paso engagement was the first operational use of a directed energy weapon against an aerial object in the U.S. homeland.
Whether it becomes a precedent or an anomaly remains uncertain.
The United States faces a clear and growing small-drone threat. Cartels, hobbyists, foreign intelligence services, and potential lone actors all have access to increasingly capable systems. At the same time, the nation’s domestic legal framework was not originally designed for widespread aerial threats from low-cost unmanned aircraft.
The El Paso episode encapsulates the tension between urgency and caution.
On one hand, commanders and law enforcement agencies are under pressure to act decisively against potential threats. On the other, civil aviation safety, statutory limits, and public transparency demand restraint and coordination.
As directed energy weapons mature and authorities expand, policymakers will need to reconcile these competing imperatives. The challenge is not merely technological; it is institutional.
The skies over El Paso briefly became a testing ground for the future of homeland air defense. What the incident ultimately revealed is that while America’s counter-drone arsenal is advancing rapidly, its governance structures are still catching up.
