ICE takes Somali-American community leader Omar Jamal into custody in Minneapolis

Prominent Somali American advocate detained by ICE in Minneapolis, unsettling a community he helped build

MINNEAPOLIS — U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers detained Omar Jamal, one of Minnesota’s most visible Somali American civic voices, in downtown Minneapolis on Friday, federal officials and his attorney confirmed. He was later transferred to the Freeborn County jail in Albert Lea, a facility that holds federal immigration detainees.

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What we know

Jamal, 52, was taken into custody by ICE on Friday afternoon. ICE has not disclosed the basis for the detention and did not immediately respond to questions about his case. His attorney, Abdiqani Jabane, said he was informed of the arrest and is preparing a legal challenge.

“Omar is a respected Somali American civic leader,” Jabane said in a statement, pledging to “pursue all lawful remedies” to secure his client’s release and protect his rights. The Ramsey County Sheriff’s Office, where Jamal serves as a civilian community service officer, confirmed his role and said he had been “integral” to its work liaising with Minnesota’s Somali community, the largest in the United States.

Public records show that Jamal was convicted of immigration fraud in Tennessee in 2005 and sentenced to one year of probation. He was referred to federal immigration authorities for possible deportation, and after legal appeals failed, the Department of Homeland Security issued a final order of removal in 2011. That order was never carried out. DHS officials have previously suggested he has other offenses in his record; those claims could not be independently verified Friday.

Who is Omar Jamal?

To understand why this arrest is sending ripples through Minneapolis, you have to understand Jamal’s unusual biography. He arrived in the United States more than two decades ago amid Somalia’s civil war, famine and state collapse — a period that scattered Somalis across the globe, from Nairobi to London to the American Midwest. In Minnesota, he founded the Somali Justice Advocacy Center, a small nonprofit that earned outsized attention for helping newcomers navigate a maze of courts, schools and social services. He became a go-to commentator on Somali American issues, weighing in on everything from youth programming and policing to federal counterterrorism prosecutions.

Friends describe him as relentless, the sort of advocate who would answer texts at midnight and translate for elders at sunrise. Critics, including some in his own community, considered him polarizing — a spotlight-seeking figure who sometimes drew controversy along with attention. But even detractors do not dispute he is a known quantity, a man who has, for better or worse, stood in public view for years in a community still finding its footing in the Upper Midwest.

A community on edge

Minnesota’s Somali population — now numbering in the tens of thousands — has spent decades building bridges with public institutions. Jamal was part of that work, and his detention raised immediate questions: What happens to those relationships when a well-known liaison is suddenly whisked into immigration custody? How do younger immigrants interpret the message this sends about trust and belonging?

At coffee shops along Cedar-Riverside and Lake Street, the early reaction was a mix of disbelief and weary resignation: disbelief that a man who has sat in community meetings with sheriffs and mayors could be detained without an explained cause; resignation because many know the volatility of immigration status too well. There is a running Somali proverb about journeys and patience — socodka iyo sabarku waa walaalo — the journey and patience are siblings. For a community that has built lives between continents, those words are familiar, but Friday’s news tested them.

Legal context and unanswered questions

The 2011 final order of removal looms large. A “final order” typically means a noncitizen has exhausted appeals and may be removed. In practice, removals can be delayed for years because of changes in country conditions, policy shifts, or the practical complexity of arranging travel documents with foreign governments. Courts have also limited how long the government may hold a person after a removal order if deportation is not likely in the foreseeable future.

What we don’t know is crucial. Has Jamal’s legal posture changed? Was there a new motion, a stay request, or some pending relief? Does he fall under any humanitarian protections, such as those sometimes extended to nationals of conflict-affected countries? ICE has not said. Without those details, it’s impossible to tell whether this is a routine enforcement action on a long-dormant case or the start of a more complicated legal battle.

Why it matters beyond Minnesota

Immigration enforcement in the United States moves in cycles, often sharpening around election seasons and easing when resources are redirected to the border. People with old removal orders — even those with deep community ties — can find themselves back in the system after years of relative quiet. That pattern is not unique to Somalis; it spans Haitian families in Florida, Cambodians in California, Liberians in the Midwest.

Jamal’s arrest echoes a broader global debate about integration, accountability and the limits of belonging. Can a person build a public service career while living under the shadow of an unresolved immigration case? Should past fraud, punished and decades old, permanently bar a community advocate from a second act? Immigration law is blunt; civic life is messier. The gap between the two is where stories like this one live — and where trust is either strengthened or frayed.

Officials hold their line, advocates brace

ICE traditionally declines to discuss individual cases beyond the barest facts, citing privacy rules and operational security. That silence, while standard, leaves families and neighborhoods to fill in the blanks. For now, Jamal’s attorney says he will seek every available avenue — from motions to reopen to stays of removal, depending on what the record allows. If ICE moves to execute the 2011 order, the process can move quickly; if removal proves impracticable, federal rules give officials discretion to release people under supervision.

The Ramsey County Sheriff’s Office credited Jamal for years of bridge-building — a notable statement in a policing era that prizes, and often struggles with, community trust. If the goal of public safety is cooperation, cases like this can complicate that task. In the short term, the question for local leaders is practical: Who steps in to keep lines of communication open while a familiar voice sits in a county jail?

What happens next

Legal counsel has been retained. Community leaders are beginning to mobilize. Federal immigration officials have yet to explain their move. As of Friday night, Jamal remained in custody in Freeborn County. The next steps may hinge on whether a federal immigration judge or ICE itself is willing to pause the case long enough for the courts to reconsider an order signed 14 years ago.

For Minnesotans accustomed to seeing Jamal at public meetings, high school gyms and late-night neighborhood forums, the sight of his name on a jail roster is jarring. For the nation beyond, it is a reminder that the headlines about immigration are not abstractions; they are the everyday lives of people who have made homes, raised kids, paid taxes — and still find themselves vulnerable to the cold machinery of enforcement.

As one elder put it years ago at a community gathering, “We came here to live, not to wait.” On Friday, waiting — for answers, for due process, for clarity — was all anyone could do.

By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.

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