Inside the Tensions of Operation Metro Surge: A Closer Look at Immigration Crackdowns in Minneapolis

Federal Crackdown in Minneapolis

Minneapolis: The immigration enforcement operation begins at dawn, with federal agents in tactical gear emerging from a nondescript office building near the airport.

Within moments, a fleet of SUVs, trucks, and vans departs, creating unmarked convoys that have become both feared and familiar in Minneapolis, St. Paul, and surrounding areas.

Protesters gather early, braving the cold to voice their dissent outside the fenced federal compound that contains an immigration court and government offices. "Go home!" they chant as the convoys pass. "ICE out!"

Tensions often escalate after dark, when the convoys return and protesters become more agitated, shaking fences and occasionally striking passing vehicles. Federal officers respond by deploying tear gas and flash grenades, leading to the arrest of several individuals.

"We’re not going anywhere!" a woman declared recently. "We’re here until you leave."

This is the daily scene of Operation Metro Surge, the Trump administration's most extensive immigration enforcement initiative to date, involving over 2,000 officers. The operation has created a rift between local officials and the federal government, igniting daily confrontations between activists and immigration agents in these predominantly liberal cities, and has tragically resulted in the death of a mother of three.

In some neighborhoods, particularly wealthier and predominantly white areas, the crackdown is hardly noticeable, with convoys and tear gas being rare occurrences. However, in areas where masked immigration officers are more prevalent, they often operate swiftly, making arrests and vanishing before protesters can mobilize.

Despite this, the impact of the surge is felt throughout the Twin Cities, which has a population exceeding 3 million.

"We don’t use the term 'invasion' lightly," stated Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey, a Democrat, to reporters this week, highlighting that his police force consists of only 600 officers. "What we are witnessing is thousands—yes, thousands—of federal agents entering our city."

The presence of these agents is particularly pronounced in a city of this size.

While it may take hours to traverse cities like Los Angeles and Chicago, crossing Minneapolis can be done in just 15 minutes.

As anxiety spreads across the region, children are skipping school or opting for remote learning, families are avoiding religious gatherings, and many businesses, especially in immigrant communities, have temporarily shut down.

Driving along Lake Street, a historic immigrant corridor, the sidewalks are now mostly occupied by activists on alert, ready to sound alarms at the first sign of a convoy.

At La Michoacana Purepecha, where patrons can enjoy ice cream and snacks, the door is locked, allowing entry one person at a time. Nearby, Taqueria Los Ocampo displays a sign in both English and Spanish announcing its temporary closure due to "current conditions."

A dozen blocks away at Karmel Mall, a hub for the city's large Somali population, signs on the doors read, "No ICE entry without court order."

The Legacy of George Floyd

Nearly six years have passed since George Floyd was killed by a Minneapolis police officer, yet the wounds from that incident remain fresh.

Floyd was murdered just blocks away from where an Immigration and Customs Enforcement officer fatally shot Renee Good, a 37-year-old American citizen, during a confrontation on January 7 while she was assisting neighbors during an enforcement operation. Federal officials claim the officer acted in self-defense, alleging Good "weaponized" her vehicle. Local officials dispute this narrative, citing multiple bystander videos of the incident.

For residents of the Twin Cities, the ongoing crackdown can feel overwhelming.

"Enough is enough," expressed Johan Baumeister, who visited the site of Good's death shortly after the shooting to pay his respects.

He expressed a desire to avoid the violent protests that erupted in Minneapolis following Floyd's death, which resulted in billions in damages. However, he acknowledged the city's long-standing tradition of activism and protests, predicting that more unrest would follow.

"I think Minneapolis will once again express our anger," he anticipated.

His prediction proved accurate.

In the days that followed, there were numerous confrontations between activists and immigration officers. Most of these encounters involved little more than verbal exchanges, with damage primarily limited to broken windows, graffiti, and some vandalized federal vehicles.

However, tensions have escalated regularly across the Twin Cities. Some protesters appear intent on provoking federal officers, throwing snowballs or shouting insults through bullhorns from mere feet away. The more serious confrontations, however, come from immigration officers, who have smashed car windows, pepper-sprayed demonstrators, and warned onlookers not to follow them. Both immigrants and citizens have been forcibly removed from vehicles and homes, sometimes detained for days, with most confrontations concluding with the use of tear gas.

Drivers in Minneapolis or St. Paul may now encounter intersections blocked by officers in body armor and gas masks, with helicopters hovering overhead and the air filled with the sound of protesters' whistles.

Community Response and Solidarity

In a state known for its sense of community, the protests have a distinctly Minnesotan flavor.

Following Good's shooting, Governor Tim Walz, a Democrat and frequent target of Trump, expressed his anger but also encouraged residents to find ways to support their communities.

"It might involve shoveling your neighbor's walk," he suggested. "It could mean volunteering at a food bank or simply taking a moment to talk to someone you haven’t spoken to before."

He and other leaders have urged protesters to maintain peace, cautioning that the White House is looking for opportunities to intensify their crackdown.

When protests do escalate into clashes, local residents often emerge from their homes to distribute bottled water to help wash away tear gas from people's eyes.

Community members keep watch at schools to alert immigrant parents if convoys approach while they are picking up their children. They deliver care packages to those too frightened to venture outside and arrange transportation for work and medical appointments.

On Thursday, in the basement of a Lutheran church in St. Paul, the group Open Market MN prepared food packs for over a hundred families staying home. Colin Anderson, the outreach director, noted a significant increase in requests.

Sometimes, individuals are left confused about their experiences.

Christian Molina, from suburban Coon Rapids, was driving through a Minneapolis neighborhood recently when immigration officers began to follow him. He speculated it was due to his Hispanic appearance.

They activated their siren, but Molina continued driving, uncertain of who they were.

Eventually, the officers accelerated, collided with his rear bumper, and both vehicles came to a halt. Two officers approached and requested Molina's identification. He declined, stating he would wait for the police. A crowd began to gather, leading to a confrontation that ended with tear gas being deployed.

The officers departed, leaving behind an upset and anxious Molina, who now owned a car with a damaged rear fender.

Long after the officers had left, he was left with one lingering question.