Operation Metro Surge, the Trump administration's largest crackdown on immigrants, has led to thousands of arrests in the Twin Cities. Many undocumented immigrants are experiencing reduced job opportunities and lower wages as a result.
Key points
Operation Metro Surge is a major ICE crackdown on immigrants.
Thousands of undocumented immigrants were arrested.
The operation has led to reduced job opportunities for immigrants.
Hourly wages for immigrant workers have decreased.
Two U.S. citizens were shot and killed during the operation.
R, a day laborer from Ecuador who cleans houses for a living, waits for work outside a Home Depot in the Twin Cities, MN on April 22, 2026. Although she has returned to work following Operation Metro Surge, R has seen both a decline in work opportunities as well as a decrease in hourly wages being offered.
R, a day laborer from Ecuador who cleans houses for a living, waits for work outside a Home Depot in the Twin Cities, Minn. on April 22, 2026. Although she has returned to work following Operation Metro Surge, R has seen both a decline in work opportunities as well as a decrease in hourly wages being offered.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
MINNEAPOLIS — 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 yet of immigrants.
The agents arrested thousands of undocumented immigrants,in what the Border Patrol commander then in charge there, Gregory Bovino, called a "turn and burn" strategy. Agents also threatened journalists and activists documenting the arrests, and shot and killed two U.S. citizens — Renee Good and Alex Pretti.
Back then, community members, fed up with the presence of ICE agents in their city, took to street corners across the city with whistles around their necks, ready to alert their neighbors of the presence of federal immigration agents. Neighborhoods created a network of volunteers who drove migrants to work, doctors' appointments and brought people food who were too afraid to leave their homes.
Today Minneapolis looks different. The crackdown has receded, and arrests of immigrants have dropped 12%. Commander Bovino was forced to retire, and the neighborhood watches that tracked ICE SUVs are no longer as active. But the surge left a mark that enforcement statistics can't capture, including a hollowed-out local economy that immigrants and their neighbors say they are struggling to rebuild.
Q&A
What is Operation Metro Surge and when did it occur?
Operation Metro Surge is a large-scale immigration enforcement operation conducted by ICE in the Twin Cities, which took place three months ago.
How many immigrants were arrested during Operation Metro Surge?
Thousands of undocumented immigrants were arrested during Operation Metro Surge, marking it as one of the largest crackdowns under the Trump administration.
What impact has Operation Metro Surge had on immigrant workers in Minneapolis?
Immigrant workers in Minneapolis have reported a decline in job opportunities and a decrease in hourly wages following Operation Metro Surge.
What incidents occurred during the Operation Metro Surge arrests?
During the arrests, ICE agents threatened journalists and activists, and two U.S. citizens were shot and killed by agents.
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A sign reading “A person was stolen from us by ICE here” hangs from a utility pole at Powderhorn Park in the wake of Operation Metro Surge in Minneapolis, Minn. on April 10, 2026.
A sign reading "A person was stolen from us by ICE here" hangs from a utility pole at Powderhorn Park in the wake of Operation Metro Surge in Minneapolis, Minn. on April 10, 2026.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
Mourners visit the memorial site for Alex Pretti, who was shot and killed by federal agents in January during Operation Metro Surge, in Minneapolis, Minn. on April 24, 2026.
Mourners visit the memorial site for Alex Pretti, who was shot and killed by federal agents in January during Operation Metro Surge, in Minneapolis, Minn. on April 24, 2026.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
"We were left traumatized," said Y, a woman who asked NPR to identify her by her middle initial because she worries speaking out will affect her ongoing immigration case.
NPR talked to nine immigrants about how Operation Metro Surge upended their lives and how they're adapting today.
Together, their stories map what the crackdown left behind: shuttered restaurants, households rationing groceries, mounting debt, mental health woes, and and, for some, a serious reckoning with whether to leave the United States to return to their home countries.
The seamstress
On the evening of January 13th, Y was headed home from one of her two jobs as a seamstress.
Life was going well and the prospects were bright: she had recently bought a house, and talked to her daughter about the prospect of sending her to college.
In the blink of an eye everything changed. Y said shewas surrounded by unmarked vehicles while driving home from work**.** This was in the height of Operation Metro Surge, when streets were empty and masked ICE agents would drive around the city in unmarked cars and make random stops in the streets.
The immigration officers, she said, arrested her despite her showing them her work permit and documentation showing she had applied for a U visa, one given to victims of specific crimes.
The Ecuadoran spent a month being shuffled around multiple detention centers in the U.S. She said before being detained, she barely had debt.
But after being released from detention with an ankle monitor while her immigration case plays out, Y said things got bad.
Y, an Ecuadorean seamstress who was detained during Operation Metro Surge and sent to a detention facility in Texas despite having a work permit, sits for a portrait beside her daughter in Minneapolis, MN on April 23, 2026. Y’s month-long detention led to her losing one of her two jobs as well as amassing around $13,000 in debts related to legal fees, lost income, and travel costs, as she had to pay her own return expenses from Texas after being released.
Y, an Ecuadorean seamstress who was detained during Operation Metro Surge and sent to a detention facility in Texas despite having a work permit, sits for a portrait beside her daughter in Minneapolis, MN on April 23, 2026. Y's month-long detention led to her losing one of her two jobs as well as amassing around $13,000 in debts related to legal fees, lost income, and travel costs, as she had to pay her own return expenses from Texas after being released.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
Y, an Ecuadorean seamstress who was detained during Operation Metro Surge and sent to a detention facility in Texas despite having a work permit, shows the ankle monitor she is required to wear at her home in Minneapolis, Minn. on April 23, 2026. Y’s month-long detention led to her losing one of her two jobs as well as amassing around $13,000 in debts related to legal fees, lost income, and travel costs, as she had to pay her own return expenses from Texas after being released.
Y, an Ecuadorean seamstress who was detained during Operation Metro Surge and sent to a detention facility in Texas despite having a work permit, shows the ankle monitor she is required to wear at her home in Minneapolis, Minn. on April 23, 2026. Y's month-long detention led to her losing one of her two jobs as well as amassing around $13,000 in debts related to legal fees, lost income, and travel costs, as she had to pay her own return expenses from Texas after being released.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
With no weekly paycheck, and with mounting legal fees, her debt skyrocketed.
"It was hard to come out of detention and find so much debt," Y said.
Y's 18-year-old daughter asked friends and family to borrow $7,500 to post bond for her mom. The daughter also asked for help to pay for the mortgage of the house, and to pay for utilities. Y now owes more than $13,000 to friends and family members who pooled theirmoney.
Y recently started working again, and is looking for a second job, or even a third one.
Before detention, Y was hoping to save enough money to help send her 18-year-old daughter to college. The daughter wants to be a veterinarian.
But now she worries college may be out of reach.
"My dream was to see my daughter in college — I used to tell her, 'don't worry, I have two jobs and I will figure a way for you to graduate from the university,'" Y said. "Now we have to find scholarships. It's been hard."
The day laborers
During Operation Metro Surge, the areas where day laborers used to gather to get jobs — including the Home Depot or the empty lot on Lake Street — were completely emptied.
People enter and exit a Home Depot in the Twin Cities, MN on April 22, 2026. Day laborers often seek work opportunities outside of home improvement retail outlets, with such locations becoming a common target of immigration enforcement operations.
People enter and exit a Home Depot in the Twin Cities, MN on April 22, 2026. Day laborers often seek work opportunities outside of home improvement retail outlets, with such locations becoming a common target of immigration enforcement operations.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
V, a day laborer from Ecuador who went into hiding and lost employment for weeks during Operation Metro Surge, waits for work along East Lake Street in Minneapolis, Minn. on April 22, 2026. Tim Evans for NPR
V, a day laborer from Ecuador who went into hiding and lost employment for weeks during Operation Metro Surge, waits for work along East Lake Street in Minneapolis, Minn. on April 22, 2026.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
But months after the operation ended, migrant workers have started to return for work.
V, an Ecuadorian man who asked NPR to identify him by the initial of his first name because he's undocumented, said "everything changed" for day laborers.
He's now behind on his rent, he said. Work has been slow and his hourly wage is down.
49-year-old R, another worker, used to get hired every day for work by camping out at the Home Depot lot. She told NPR she'd get paid anywhere from $20 to $25 per hour for cleaning offices and homes.
R, a day laborer from Ecuador who cleans houses for a living, waits for work outside a Home Depot in the Twin Cities, Minn. on April 22, 2026. Although she has returned to work following Operation Metro Surge, R has seen both a decline in work opportunities as well as a decrease in hourly wages being offered.
R, a day laborer from Ecuador who cleans houses for a living, waits for work outside a Home Depot in the Twin Cities, Minn. on April 22, 2026. Although she has returned to work following Operation Metro Surge, R has seen both a decline in work opportunities as well as a decrease in hourly wages being offered.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
A week ago she went back to work. These days when she gets hired, she's getting offered $15 to $17 per hour.
"It's like starting again from zero," R said. She asked NPR to use her first initial because she's undocumented.
"ICE destroyed our lives psychologically and physically," she said.
The restaurant owners in the brink of closing
The Hernandez family have owned the Mexican restaurant El Tejabal in Richfield, Minn., for nearly two decades. It is a staple in the community.
Owners Miguel Hernandez, Sr., and Rosa Zambrano said the surge in immigration agents created chaos in their restaurant: employees stopped coming, customers stopped eating in. They lost about 60% in sales.
"We won't recover because those sales are not going to come back, and we still have to pay rent, and the cost of food has increased," Zambrano said in Spanish.
Miguel Hernandez preps food at El Tejaban Mexican Grill, the family-run restaurant that he has owned with his wife Rosa Zambrano for nearly two decades, in Richfield, Minn. on April 22, 2026. The couple fears that they will need to close their restaurant when their current lease ends, as the business suffered dramatic revenue losses during Operation Metro Surge and has struggled to recover in the months since.
Miguel Hernandez preps food at El Tejaban Mexican Grill, the family-run restaurant that he has owned with his wife Rosa Zambrano for nearly two decades, in Richfield, Minn. on April 22, 2026. The couple fears that they will need to close their restaurant when their current lease ends, as the business suffered dramatic revenue losses during Operation Metro Surge and has struggled to recover in the months since.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
Miguel Hernandez reads an order slip at El Tejaban Mexican Grill on April 22, 2026; an employee preps food at El Tejaban.
Miguel Hernandez reads an order slip at El Tejaban Mexican Grill, the family-run restaurant that he has owned with his wife Rosa Zambrano for nearly two decades, in Richfield, Minn. on April 22, 2026;
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
Rosa Zambrano discusses administrative details with her daughter Diana and an employee in the office at El Tejaban Mexican Grill, the family-run restaurant that she has owned with her husband Miguel Hernandez for nearly two decades, in Richfield, Minn. on April 22, 2026.
Rosa Zambrano discusses administrative details with her daughter Diana and an employee in the office at El Tejaban Mexican Grill, the family-run restaurant that she has owned with her husband Miguel Hernandez for nearly two decades, in Richfield, Minn. on April 22, 2026.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
The couple said they've decided to close in about two years, when their lease is up. They said they've crunched the numbers and realized there's no chance for them to fully recover.
Both Zambrano and Hernandez Sr. are 60 years old and they were hoping to save some money for their retirement. That's not possible anymore.
"We are not saving money to continue the business," Zambrano said. "We are saving to pay rent."
Daughter Dianna Hernandez, 27, works at the restaurant and during the surge she said she had to lock its doors because of the presence of ICE agents in the parking lot.
Rosa Zambrano, Dianna Hernandez, and Miguel Hernandez at El Tejaban Mexican Grill, in Richfield, Minn. Dianna's parents have owned the restaurant for nearly two decades.
Rosa Zambrano, Dianna Hernandez, and Miguel Hernandez at El Tejaban Mexican Grill, in Richfield, Minn. Dianna's parents have owned the restaurant for nearly two decades.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
She doesn't want to see the restaurant close — but she acknowledges Operation Metro Surge changed their lives, even though she and the rest of the family are U.S. citizens.
"This is where I grew up, this is all I know and to just think and hear them say we are going to close in two to three years, and the way it's ending, I hate it for them," she said.
The family who lost it all
Many people who talked to NPR have relied on their children, their community and their savings to continue to live. But others are facing economic ruin.
"The economic, emotional, traumatic impact of everything that we went through here in Minneapolis is going to be felt for years," Myrka Zambrano, with the advocacy group Minnesota Immigrant Rights Action Committee, said.
A bill making its way through the Minnesota Legislature would create a $100 million relief program for small businesses impacted by the crackdown. But Zambrano said that's not enough, especially when so many immigrants are struggling with other issues like food security and housing.
Pablo Alcaraz and María Peñalosa, a couple that has been living in the U.S. for more than 20 years, are struggling, too.
Husband and wife Pablo Alcaraz and Maria Peñalosa pose for a portrait outside their home in Inver Grove Heights, Minn. on April 22, 2026. The couple, who had to close their business Garibaldi Mexican Restaurant in West St. Paul after suffering dramatic revenue losses during Operation Metro Surge, have lost their only source of income.
Husband and wife Pablo Alcaraz and Maria Peñalosa pose for a portrait outside their home in Inver Grove Heights, Minn. on April 22, 2026. The couple, who had to close their business Garibaldi Mexican Restaurant in West St. Paul after suffering dramatic revenue losses during Operation Metro Surge, have lost their only source of income.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
The commercial space that was previously home to Garibaldi Mexican Restaurant sits empty in West St. Paul, Minn. on April 28, 2026. The restaurant, which was owned by Pablo Alcaraz and his wife Maria Peñalosa, had to close after suffering dramatic revenue losses during Operation Metro Surge.
The commercial space that was previously home to Garibaldi Mexican Restaurant sits empty in West St. Paul, Minn. on April 28, 2026. The restaurant, which was owned by Pablo Alcaraz and his wife Maria Peñalosa, had to close after suffering dramatic revenue losses during Operation Metro Surge.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
The couple have work permits and a U visa — a type of visa given to victims of specific crimes.
Their whole life they had worked towards one dream — to open a restaurant.
But now the nonstop hum of the industrial fridge inside their cluttered trailer is a reminder of what could have been.
"It's so unfair that in a few months the government has ended the work of 20 years," Peñalosa said. "They ended our dreams."
Their restaurant, Garibaldi Mexican Restaurant, went out of business as a direct result of Operation Metro Surge.
Before Operation Metro Surge, the couple said they would make about $15,000 in monthly profit, on average.
During Operation Metro Surge, sales evaporated. There were many days, he says, when they made almost nothing in profit.
Now they are living on the frozen meat and other food from the restaurant, but Alcaraz said they are likely to run out in a month.
"Once we run out of it, that's when the problems will start," he said.
Pablo Alcaraz becomes emotional as he and his wife Maria Peñalosa discuss the closure of their restaurant at their home in Inver Grove Heights, MN on April 22, 2026. The couple, who had to close Garibaldi Mexican Restaurant in West St. Paul after suffering dramatic revenue losses during Operation Metro Surge, have lost their only source of income.
Pablo Alcaraz becomes emotional as he and his wife Maria Peñalosa discuss the closure of their restaurant at their home in Inver Grove Heights, MN on April 22, 2026. The couple, who had to close Garibaldi Mexican Restaurant in West St. Paul after suffering dramatic revenue losses during Operation Metro Surge, have lost their only source of income.
Tim Evans for NPR
Tim Evans for NPR
Peñalosa, the wife, said she worries about her husband's mental health. He doesn't want to leave his bed, and is depressed, she said.
Alcaraz recognizes he's desperate. He said that because he had to close the restaurant and has some debt, he doesn't know whether he'll be able to open a new restaurant or another business.
"How am I going to move forward? I'm practically dead," he said, with tears in his eyes. "I need a credit line to open a restaurant, to pay rent, to reopen. I don't have it. They killed me."
