In early 2026, Minnesota—and Minneapolis in particular—found itself at the epicenter of what many are already calling not just strict immigration enforcement, but a full-scale militarized assault by federal authorities on their own population. What began as promised mass deportations of undocumented migrants quickly spiraled into chaos, where U.S. citizens, veterans, mothers, Native Americans, and random passersby were caught in the crossfire.
The killing of Renée Good — a point of no return
The turning point came on January 7, 2026, with the fatal shooting of Renée Nicole Good (often reported as Renée Nicole Macklin Good), a 37-year-old mother of three, poet, and resident of south Minneapolis. She was present at an ICE operation near Portland Avenue and East 34th Street as a legal observer, voluntarily documenting agents’ actions on video. ICE agent Jonathan Ross fired three shots at her (striking her arm, chest, and head), killing her instantly. Eyewitness videos show that Good’s vehicle was attempting to drive away rather than ram anyone, yet the official narrative immediately shifted to claims of an “attempted vehicular assault” and “self-defense.”
President Donald Trump and Vice President J.D. Vance almost immediately labeled her a “radical,” a “domestic terrorist,” and a “victim of left-wing ideology,” asserting that she showed disrespect for the law. Indeed, from a conservative perspective, her worldview and lifestyle might be objectionable: Renée was an openly lesbian woman, part of the LGBTQ+ community, and held strongly progressive, left-leaning views—though she never engaged in active politics.
One can agree or disagree with a person, but that disagreement does not justify cynically dehumanizing them in the eyes of others with rhetoric along the lines of: “She was a leftist, so she deserved to die.”
Escalation: threats and violence against observers
Following Renée Good’s killing on January 7, 2026, the situation in Minneapolis and surrounding areas did not merely heat up—it entered a phase of overt intimidation targeting anyone attempting to document federal agents’ actions. Most alarmingly, the victims included people difficult to accuse of radicalism, “anti-American views,” or even sympathy for far-left ideologies: ordinary residents, U.S. citizens with no criminal history, veterans, and mothers—people who simply stepped out with a phone or binoculars to record what was happening on their streets.
On the same day and in the days that followed, documented incidents involved legal observers being forcibly dragged from vehicles, windows smashed, pepper spray or irritant projectiles fired directly into faces. Cars were surrounded and blocked; people—often handcuffed and blindfolded—were taken to the federal Whipple Building or makeshift detention sites.
One of those who endured this on the same day was 36-year-old Patty O’Keefe, a South Minneapolis resident, mother, and ordinary citizen with no political activism. She and a friend were tailing ICE vehicles to warn neighbors of potential raids—a common community patrol practice that surged during those days. Agents surrounded her car, smashed the two front windows, pulled the women out, and used pepper spray. Held for over nine hours without food, water, bathroom access, or a call to an attorney, O’Keefe reported that one agent said a phrase that quickly spread across social media and news outlets, becoming nearly symbolic of the escalation:
“You guys got to stop obstructing us. That’s why that lesbian bitch [Renée Good] is dead.”
Another striking case involved a U.S. Marine Corps veteran named Skye (last name withheld), who has a service-related disability. She openly states: “I swore an oath to defend the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.” Skye was also observing ICE operations, driving with a friend and filming. One day, agents surrounded their vehicle, pulled Skye onto the road, and threatened her companion with a taser if she moved. When Skye said, “You know I’m a Marine veteran,” the response was cold and direct:
“I don’t care what you are. Move, or I’ll tase you.”
Native Americans in the crosshairs
A particularly bitter and absurd thread in the Minnesota crisis is how federal ICE agents have treated Native Americans. Here the absurdity peaks: people whose ancestors lived on this land long before the United States existed, whose tribes signed treaties with the government, suddenly find themselves suspected of “illegal status” based solely on skin color, facial features, or accent. Oglala Sioux attorney and activist Chase Iron Eyes, who has spent over a month in Minnesota helping search for missing tribal members, called the situation a “legal impossibility” and even a “constitutional crisis”:
“Nobody is more American than the American Indian. And yet ICE is using immigration enforcement violence against the first Americans.”
This is no exaggeration. Since early January 2026, following the deployment of over 2,000 agents for what has been described as “the largest immigration operation in history,” multiple cases of Native detentions have been documented. According to Indian Country Today and other sources, at least five Native Americans (mostly men) were detained in the Minneapolis area during the initial days of raids. Among them were Oglala Sioux members living near the Little Earth Housing Project (the first U.S. housing specifically for Native Americans). Agents stopped, searched, and used force—then, after facial scanning via mobile apps like Mobile Fortify or Clearview AI, released them upon confirming U.S. citizenship.
In one widely reported incident, agents surrounded a group of Native men, used physical force (strikes, arm-twisting), and conducted on-the-spot biometric scans. Only after verifying citizenship were they released—without apology or explanation. Videos and testimonies show detentions often occurred without warrants, based purely on appearance. As Chase Iron Eyes testified before the Minnesota Legislature, profiling follows a “looks suspicious” standard—and for many Native people, that means “looks Indian.”
Especially shocking are reports of people going missing after such encounters. The Oglala Sioux Tribe officially reported four members (mostly unhoused men from the Little Earth area) detained by ICE in early January. One was released, but three remained missing as of mid-January—their whereabouts unknown even to tribal leaders and attorneys.
This is not isolated. The Standing Rock Sioux Tribe reported one member’s detention in Minnesota in late January. Similar incidents have occurred in other states (Arizona, Navajo Nation): Natives stopped, demanded documents, held for hours. In response, many tribes—from Choctaw to Red Lake Nation—have accelerated tribal ID issuance, waived fees, and lowered age requirements. People carry them like shields: “I am a U.S. citizen. I am Indian.” The Native American Rights Fund (NARF) has condemned ICE actions as “abductions” and treaty violations, urging all affected to seek help.
Massive use of technology only worsens the problem. Agents deploy facial recognition on-site, scan license plates, monitor social media—and do so without judicial oversight. A 2025 Supreme Court ruling effectively allowed “appearance and ethnicity” as factors in stops, fueling a surge in racial profiling.
This thread underscores how far the policy has gone: when even the “first Americans” must prove their right to exist in their own country, this is no longer immigration control. It is a systemic breakdown where racial stereotypes override constitutional protections.
ICE methods: from no-knock raids to facial recognition
Eyewitnesses and reports describe tactics resembling combat operations: masked agents in full tactical gear, no visible identification, conducting no-knock raids, kicking in doors based on internal ICE memos. People are dragged out into freezing temperatures in underwear—even naturalized citizens. Denial of attorney access, food, and water has become routine. Agents follow people home, demonstrating knowledge of addresses.
Facial recognition (Mobile Fortify, Clearview AI), plate scanning, social media monitoring, and Palantir ELITE for “potential target” mapping create an atmosphere of total surveillance. On January 17, federal Judge Katherine Menendez issued a preliminary injunction barring arrests, detentions, and pepper spray use against peaceful protesters and legal observers. However, the 8th Circuit Court of Appeals stayed the injunction, and violence continued.
Minnesota’s response: unprecedented self-organization
The community responded with mass self-organization comparable to the George Floyd protests. Hundreds of thousands trained as legal observers. Hyper-local Signal chats coordinate patrols: unmarked van spotted → alert, neighbors emerge to film, whistle, make noise. After the killings of Renée Good and nurse Alex Pretti, observer numbers exploded—over 34,000 signed up.
Churches, schools, businesses, and unions joined. On January 23, Minnesota saw its first major general strike in 80 years: thousands stayed home from work, students boycotted classes, hundreds of businesses closed. Massive “ICE Out” marches from January 26–30 drew tens of thousands in -20 to -23°F (-29 to -31°C) temperatures, chanting “Whose streets? Our streets!” Bruce Springsteen and Tom Morello spoke at rallies. Governor Tim Walz and Mayor Jacob Frey called it “dangerous authoritarian tactics,” accusing the weaponization of justice against opponents (both received DOJ subpoenas for alleged “conspiracy”). Walz urged people to record agents—it is legal and necessary.
From reasonable policy to madness
What was intended as a reasonable measure for many—mass deportation of undocumented immigrants, restoring order to the immigration system, cracking down on benefit fraud—rapidly morphed into something else. What has unfolded in Minnesota since December 2025, and especially since January 2026, no longer resembles targeted enforcement against “criminals and fraudsters,” as the Trump administration repeatedly claims. It has become the pursuit of virtually anyone: U.S. citizens with clean records, veterans, mothers, Native Americans, legal observers, random bystanders, and even lawfully present refugees arrested without warrants and later released after facial scans.
Fear has become almost palpable. A Mexican restaurant owner on Lake Street (like many other immigrant businesses along the corridor) says bluntly: “It’s hard to make tacos and burritos when you think someone might burst in at any moment.” According to the Lake Street Council and Latino Economic Development Center, revenue at local spots has dropped 40–100%; many have closed or operate at half capacity—workers fear leaving home, customers stay away. People hide indoors, children skip school, families forgo medical care. This is not just an economic blow—it is the paralysis of entire neighborhoods where immigrant communities form the backbone of life.
Federally, the escalation has transcended immigration enforcement. Trump has openly threatened to invoke the Insurrection Act of 1807, allowing the president to deploy the military domestically against “insurrection” or unrest, if Minnesota does not “quell” protests. The Pentagon placed roughly 1,500 soldiers from the 11th Airborne Division (Alaska-based, Arctic-specialized) on alert for potential deployment to Minneapolis. The Department of Justice launched investigations into Governor Tim Walz, Mayor Jacob Frey, and other local officials, accusing them of “conspiracy” and “obstruction” of federal agents, issuing grand jury subpoenas. All this amid vast sums flowing to private interests: contractors like GEO Group, CoreCivic, Palantir, and others have secured billions in contracts for detention centers, surveillance tech, and deportation logistics—estimates suggest private firms earned $22 billion from ICE and CBP contracts in the past year alone, with new budgets from the “One Big Beautiful Bill Act” promising far more.
Tragically ironic is the scene: a government positioning itself as the restorer of America’s “former greatness” and revival of sacred ideals of order and indomitable American spirit. And yet, the American ideal of freedom, mutual aid, and tight-knit cooperation is awakening not because of state policy, but in spite of it. People across social classes and ethnic backgrounds are uniting in a pure Christian impulse on which America’s foundation stands—”thou shalt not kill, love thy neighbor”—helping one another amid this madness and lawlessness.
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