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Work At sunrise, federal officials began an immigration crackdown in and around the Twin Cities, with hundreds of people in tactical gear pouring out of a nondescript office building near the main airport.
Within minutes, huge SUVs, pickup trucks, and minivans began to pull away in unmarked convoys that quickly became a feared and common sight on the streets. minneapolisSao Paulo and its suburbs.
protester They also arrived early, braving the cold and standing across the street from the fenced-in federal compound that houses immigration courts and government offices. “Go home!” they shouted as the motorcade roared past. “The ice is out!”
Things tend to get uglier as the convoys return after nightfall, with protesters sometimes becoming angrier, shaking fences and occasionally slapping passing cars. Eventually, federal officers moved on them, firing tear gas and flash-bang grenades before removing at least some of the people.
“We’re not going anywhere!” one woman shouted on a recent morning. “We’ll be here until you leave.”
This is the daily rhythm of subway surge operations, trump card It was the government’s largest crackdown to date, involving more than 2,000 officials. The surge has pitted city and state officials against the federal government, sparked daily clashes between activists and immigration officials in the highly liberal city, and resulted in the death of a mother of three.
In some areas, the crackdown has been barely noticeable, particularly in whiter, wealthier neighborhoods and suburbs where motorcades and tear gas are rare. Even in neighborhoods where masked immigration officers are common, they often move with ghostly speed, arresting and disappearing before protesters can gather.
Still, the population boom is being felt across large swaths of the Twin Cities area, which has a population of more than 3 million.
‘We don’t use the word ‘invasion’ lightly,’ Minneapolis mayor Jacob FreyThe Democrat told reporters this week that his police force has only 600 officers. “What we’re seeing is thousands – plural, thousands – of federal agents coming into our city.”
These agents have huge influence in a small city.
It can take hours to drive through Los Angeles and Chicago, both of which have been targeted by the Trump administration’s crackdown. It takes 15 minutes to travel across Minneapolis.
So as concern sweeps across the region, children are skipping school or learning remotely, families are avoiding religious services and many businesses, especially in immigrant communities, are temporarily closing.
Driving down Lake Street, which has been a center of immigration since newcomers from Norway and Sweden arrived in Minneapolis, the only sidewalks now seemed to be activists standing guard, ready to blow warning whistles at the first sign of a convoy.
At La Michoacana Purepecha, where customers can order ice cream, chocolate-covered bananas and pork rinds, the doors are locked and staff allow only one person in at a time. A sign in English and Spanish at the nearby Taqueria Los Ocampo restaurant said the restaurant was temporarily closed due to “current circumstances.”
A dozen blocks away at the Karmel Mall, home to the city’s large Somali community and offering everything from food and coffee to tax preparation, a sign on the door warned: “ICE No Entry Without Court Order.”
George Floyd’s shadow
Nearly six years have passed since George Floyd was murdered by Minneapolis police, but the scars from that killing are still clearly visible.
Floyd was killed just blocks away from Renee Good, a 37-year-old U.S. citizen who was shot and killed by an Immigration and Citizenship Enforcement officer during a confrontation on Jan. 7 after she stopped to help a neighbor during a law enforcement operation. Federal officials said the officer fired in self-defense after Goode “weaponized” her vehicle. City and state officials dismissed those explanations and pointed to multiple bystander videos of the confrontation.
For Twin Cities residents, the crackdown can feel overwhelming.
“Enough is enough,” said John Baumeister, who came to the scene of Goode’s death shortly after the shooting to lay flowers.
He said he didn’t want to see the billions of dollars in damage caused by the violent protests that rocked Minneapolis after Floyd’s death. But the city has a long history of activism and protest, and he has no doubt there will be more.
“I think they’re going to see another display of our anger in Minneapolis,” he predicted.
He is right.
In the days since, there have been numerous confrontations between activists and immigration officials. Most were just yelled insults and taunts, and the damage was mostly limited to broken windows, graffiti and a few badly damaged federal vehicles.
But now angry clashes regularly break out across the Twin Cities. Some protesters, apparently trying to anger federal officers, threw snowballs at them or screamed obscenities through loudspeakers from just a few feet away. The most serious force, however, came from immigration officers, who broke car windows, pepper-sprayed protesters and warned observers not to follow them through the streets. Immigrants and citizens were removed from their cars and homes and detained, sometimes for days. Most clashes ended with tear gas.
Drivers in Minneapolis or St. Paul may now stumble through intersections blocked by people wearing body armor and gas masks, helicopters roaring overhead and the air filled with the screams of protesters.
Shovel up neighbor’s walk
In a state that prides itself on its decency, there’s something particularly Minnesotan about the protests.
Shortly after Goode was shot, Gov. Tim Walz, a Democrat whom Trump often attacks, repeatedly said he was angry but also urged people to find ways to help their communities.
“This could potentially cut off your neighbor’s road,” he said. “That might mean going to a food bank. It might mean stopping and talking to someone you’ve never talked to before.”
He and other leaders implored protesters to remain peaceful and warned the White House was looking for opportunities to step up the crackdown.
When protests eventually turn into clashes, residents often emerge from their homes to hand out bottles of water so people can flush tear gas from their eyes.
Residents kept watch at schools, warning immigrant parents if the convoy approached as they picked up their children. They deliver care packages to those who are afraid to leave their homes and arrange for them to go to work and see doctors.
On Thursday, in the basement of a Lutheran church in St. Paul, Minnesota Open Market prepared food packages for more than a hundred families staying home. Colin Anderson, the organization’s outreach director, said the organization has seen a spike in requests.
Sometimes people don’t even understand what’s happening to them.
Like Christian Molina, from the suburb of Coon Rapids, who was driving through a Minneapolis neighborhood on a recent day to take his car to a mechanic when immigration officials began following him. He wondered if it was because he looked Hispanic.
They turned on their sirens, but Molina continued driving, unsure who they were.
Eventually, the officer accelerated and struck his rear bumper, bringing both vehicles to a stop. Two men show up and demand the documents from Molina. He refused, saying he would wait for the police. Crowds began to gather and clashes soon broke out, ending with tear gas.
So the officers left.
They left behind an angry, worried man who suddenly owned a sedan with a mangled rear fender.
Long after the officers left, he had one last question.
“Who’s going to pay for my car?”
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Associated Press reporters Rebecca Santana and Giovanna Dell’Orto in Minneapolis and Hallie Golden in Seattle contributed to this report.