Three months ago masked ICE agents in unmarked vehicles descended on the Twin Cities as part of Operation Metro Surge, the Trump administration’s largest and most aggressive crackdown of immigrants. Agents arrested thousands of undocumented people in what Border Patrol commander Gregory Bovino called a “turn and burn” strategy. They also threatened journalists and activists documenting arrests, and federal agents shot and killed two U.S. citizens, Renee Good and Alex Pretti.
At the time, neighbors mobilized: whistles were worn at street corners to warn of ICE, volunteers drove migrants to work and appointments, and community groups brought food to people afraid to leave home. The surge has since receded. Arrests have dropped about 12%, Bovino was forced to retire, and neighborhood watches are less active. But many residents say the operation left lasting damage not captured by enforcement statistics — a hollowed-out local economy, mounting debt, and trauma.
NPR interviewed nine immigrants about how the surge upended their lives. Their accounts describe shuttered restaurants, households rationing groceries, mental health struggles, and difficult choices about whether to remain in the U.S.
The seamstress
On Jan. 13, Y, who asked to be identified by her middle initial while her immigration case continues, was driving home from one of two seamstress jobs when unmarked vehicles surrounded her. She says officers arrested her despite showing a work permit and proof she had applied for a U visa for crime victims. She was sent to multiple detention centers and held for a month.
Released with an ankle monitor while her case proceeds, Y lost one of her jobs and accrued steep debts. Her daughter borrowed $7,500 to post bond and the family pooled money to cover mortgage and utilities; Y now owes more than $13,000 to relatives and friends. She has returned to work and is seeking additional jobs, but her plan to save for her daughter’s college has been derailed and the family now must seek scholarships.
Day laborers
Day labor pickup points — outside a Home Depot, an empty lot on Lake Street — were emptied during the surge as workers went into hiding. Months later some have returned, but work is slower and wages have fallen. V, an Ecuadorian who asked to be identified by an initial because he is undocumented, is behind on rent. R, a 49-year-old woman who cleaned homes and offices and used to be hired daily at a Home Depot lot, said she once earned $20–$25 an hour; now she’s getting $15–$17. “It’s like starting again from zero,” she said. “ICE destroyed our lives psychologically and physically.”
Restaurant owners on the brink
El Tejaban, a Mexican restaurant in Richfield owned by Miguel Hernandez Sr. and Rosa Zambrano for nearly 20 years, lost about 60% of sales during the surge as employees stayed away and customers stopped dining in. With rising food costs and ongoing rent obligations, the owners say they cannot recover the lost revenue and plan to close when their lease ends in a few years. At 60, the couple had been hoping to save for retirement; instead they are focused on covering rent.
Their daughter Dianna, 27, who works at the restaurant, recalls locking the doors during the surge when ICE agents were in the parking lot. She says the operation changed the family’s life even though she and her parents are U.S. citizens.
The family who lost it all
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, built their dream: Garibaldi Mexican Restaurant in West St. Paul. Before the surge they made roughly $15,000 a month in profit. During the operation, sales evaporated and the business closed. Now the couple live off frozen food from the restaurant’s inventory and face running out of supplies within weeks.
The closure cost them their only source of income and has left them with debt and uncertainty. Alcaraz has struggled with depression and doubts about whether he can obtain credit to reopen or start another business: “It’s so unfair that in a few months the government has ended the work of 20 years,” Peñalosa said.
Broader impacts and relief efforts
Advocates warn the economic and emotional effects will linger for years. Myrka Zambrano of the Minnesota Immigrant Rights Action Committee says many immigrants also face food insecurity and housing instability. Minnesota lawmakers are considering a bill to create a $100 million relief program for small businesses affected by the crackdown, but advocates say that would not be sufficient to address the full scope of need.
The stories collected by NPR illustrate how an enforcement surge upended livelihoods, strained community networks, and left families scrambling to recover as they weigh tough choices about their futures in the United States.
This reporting was supported by the Economic Hardship Reporting Project.