MINNEAPOLIS — Three months after masked ICE agents in unmarked vehicles flooded the Twin Cities as part of Operation Metro Surge, many immigrant communities are still struggling to recover. The operation — described by then-Border Patrol commander Gregory Bovino as a “turn and burn” strategy — led to thousands of arrests, threats against journalists and activists who recorded raids, and the deaths of two U.S. citizens, Renee Good and Alex Pretti.
At the height of the crackdown, neighbors blew whistles to warn one another when federal agents appeared. Volunteers organized rides to work and appointments and delivered food to people too afraid to leave their homes. Now the presence of the surge has diminished: arrests of immigrants in the area are down roughly 12%, and Bovino has since been forced to retire. But those numbers hide deep and continuing damage — a weakened local economy, growing personal debt, mental-health crises and difficult decisions about whether to stay in the United States.
Reporters spoke with nine immigrants about how the operation disrupted their lives and how they are trying to rebuild.
The seamstress
On Jan. 13, Y, a seamstress who asked to be identified only by her middle initial because she fears jeopardizing her immigration case, was stopped by agents while driving home from one of two jobs. She says she showed a work permit and paperwork showing she had applied for a U visa for crime victims, but was arrested anyway.
Y spent about a month moved between detention centers and was released wearing an ankle monitor while her case proceeds. Without regular pay and after mounting legal and travel expenses, her debt ballooned. Her 18-year-old daughter borrowed $7,500 to post bond and friends and family pooled money; Y now owes more than $13,000. She lost one of her two jobs during detention and is searching for additional work. Plans to pay for her daughter’s college have been dashed; the family is now counting on scholarships.
Day laborers
Common gathering spots for day laborers — a lot outside Home Depot, an empty stretch on Lake Street — emptied during the raids. Months later, migrants have started to return, but work is slower and pay has fallen.
V, an Ecuadorian day laborer who asked to use only an initial, said he is behind on rent and that everything changed. R, a 49-year-old Ecuadorian woman who cleans houses and waits to be hired outside Home Depot, said she used to earn $20–$25 an hour; now she’s offered $15–$17. “It’s like starting again from zero,” she said. “ICE destroyed our lives psychologically and physically.”
Restaurants on the brink
The Hernandez family has operated El Tejaban, a Mexican restaurant in Richfield, Minn., for nearly 20 years. During the surge, employees stopped coming in and customers stopped dining; sales plunged about 60%. Owners Miguel Hernandez Sr. and Rosa Zambrano say they have calculated their finances and plan to close when their lease expires in two years. Both are 60 and had hoped to save for retirement; now they are focused on covering rent.
Their daughter Dianna, a U.S. citizen who works at the restaurant, had to lock the doors when she saw ICE agents in the parking lot. She doesn’t want to lose the family business, but acknowledges the operation has altered their future.
A family that lost everything
Not every household has savings or social support to survive the shock. Pablo Alcaraz and María Peñalosa, who have lived in the U.S. for more than 20 years and hold work permits and a U visa, closed Garibaldi Mexican Restaurant in West St. Paul after revenue vanished. Before the surge, the couple averaged about $15,000 a month in profit; during the operation they had many days with almost no income.
Their restaurant’s space now sits empty. The couple lives off frozen food and dwindling savings. Alcaraz described deep depression and despair; Peñalosa worries about her husband’s mental health. They lack the credit and capital to reopen or launch a new business. “It’s so unfair that in a few months the government has ended the work of 20 years,” she said. “They ended our dreams.”
Longer-term harm
Advocates warn that the economic, emotional and psychological fallout will be felt for years. Myrka Zambrano of the Minnesota Immigrant Rights Action Committee says families face pressing needs: food, housing, mental-health care and legal assistance. A bill in the Minnesota Legislature would create a $100 million relief program for small businesses harmed by the crackdown, but organizers say it won’t be enough to help all affected households.
Many people who were detained or went into hiding have resumed some daily activities, but fear remains. Neighborhood watch groups that once tracked ICE SUVs are less active now, and while formal enforcement has tapered, the consequences show up in unpaid bills, shuttered storefronts and lost trust.
“We were left traumatized,” Y said. For those trying to rebuild, the harm is not only financial. It is a punctured sense of security, lost steady work, and for some, the destruction of businesses they spent decades building.
This reporting was supported by the Economic Hardship Reporting Project.