Raids, fraud probes and Trump rhetoric heighten fears in Minnesota’s Somali community

ICE raids and Trump’s rhetoric rattle Minnesota’s Somali community

MINNEAPOLIS — Federal immigration raids, high-profile fraud prosecutions and escalating rhetoric from former president Donald Trump are converging on Minnesota’s Somali community, unsettling daily life in the state that is home to the largest Somali population in the United States.

Since Dec. 1, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement has detained 12 people in the Minneapolis–St. Paul area under a Department of Homeland Security initiative called Operation Metro Surge. Officials say those arrested include people they describe as child sex offenders, domestic abusers and violent gang members. Homeland Security has not provided a detailed breakdown of nationalities or disclosed how many people were questioned and released.

Advocates and attorneys say immigration enforcement has reached well beyond “the worst of the worst.” They describe a widening dragnet that now touches law-abiding residents and refugee families, amplifying fear in neighborhoods long synonymous with Somali American life.

Raids widen beyond ‘worst of the worst’

Homeland Security says Operation Metro Surge is focused on people considered threats to public safety and national security or otherwise a priority for removal. Tom Homan, a border adviser defending the push, said the administration is doing “exactly what the American people voted for.”

Local immigration attorneys counter that several detainees swept up in recent days have no criminal history and were seized while complying with routine ICE check-ins on pending asylum cases.

“These are people who have done everything the government asked of them,” said David Wilson, a Minneapolis immigration attorney. “They checked in, they brought their documents, and still they were taken into custody.”

Advocates with the Minnesota Immigrant Rights Action Committee say they have tracked federal activity around Cedar-Riverside and Richfield, reporting agents in tactical vests exiting unmarked vehicles — some with ride-hailing stickers — outside apartment towers, Somali malls and a day laborer site.

Daily life on pause

The stepped-up ICE presence has altered routines in Somali neighborhoods. In south Minneapolis, a woman said her brother was detained walking from their home to his car. Her children fear going to school or work, worried someone will “take” another family member.

At the Brian Coyle Center in Cedar-Riverside, known as “Little Mogadishu,” more than 100 people gathered as state lawmakers, city officials and faith leaders tried to calm anxieties and outline legal rights. “This is not about catching criminals,” said center director Amano Dube. “It is about targeting a whole community. People are afraid to leave their homes, to go to work, to go to the mosque.”

The Minnesota chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations created a statewide task force with hundreds of volunteers to monitor ICE activity, distribute “know your rights” materials and connect families with lawyers.

For some, the moment stirs painful memories. “It feels like living under dictatorship,” said Minneapolis City Council Member Jamal Osman, a former refugee. “People have déjà vu of the civil war they escaped. They see raids and videos and wonder who is next.”

Rhetoric and policy shifts

Minnesota has an estimated 60,000 to 80,000 people of Somali descent, according to census data. Many are U.S. citizens by birth or naturalization; others are permanent residents or hold different legal status.

Against that backdrop, Trump has labeled Somali immigrants “garbage,” said he does not want them in the United States and claimed they “contribute nothing.” He has linked his criticism to high-dollar fraud cases in Minnesota, calling the state a “hub of fraudulent money laundering activity,” and announced he is terminating temporary protected status for Somalis in Minnesota — even as the Biden administration extended TPS for Somalis nationwide through March 2026. TPS is a federal program that allows people from countries in crisis to live and work in the United States for limited periods.

Homan said there is “a large illegal alien community” in Minnesota and insisted enforcement targets lack legal status or serious offenses — not race or religion. U.S. Rep. Ilhan Omar, a Minnesota Democrat and former Somali refugee, accused Trump of dehumanizing her community. “These are Americans he is calling garbage,” she said on CBS’ “Face the Nation.” “This kind of hateful rhetoric can lead to dangerous actions by people who listen to the president.”

Fraud prosecutions intensify scrutiny

The enforcement surge follows a string of federal fraud cases that have trained a national spotlight on Minnesota and fueled political attacks. Since 2022, prosecutors have charged dozens in what they call one of the largest pandemic-era fraud schemes, alleging a nonprofit sponsor and partners looted a federal child nutrition program by billing for meals to children who never showed up — then buying luxury homes, high-end cars and overseas trips.

Authorities have also brought cases alleging inflated or fabricated claims in a housing stabilization program and an autism therapy scheme that prosecutors say included kickbacks to recruit families, many of them Somali. News reports have said most of those charged in the three major cases are of Somali ancestry, though many are U.S. citizens; the founder of the nonprofit at the center of the child nutrition case is white.

The U.S. Treasury Department is reviewing whether any proceeds were sent overseas, including to Somalia or the Middle East, and if so, how they were used. Some conservative figures have speculated the money may have reached al-Shabaab, an extremist group in Somalia, but federal officials have not publicly presented evidence of a direct link.

Omar said she believes the fraud cases are not tied to terrorism, but added: “If money from U.S. tax dollars is being sent to help with terrorism in Somalia, we want to know. We want those people prosecuted, and we want to make sure that never happens again.” She noted Somali Minnesotans also lost out. “We are taxpayers in Minnesota. We could have benefited from these programs.”

City Hall draws boundaries

Democratic Gov. Tim Walz said he supports identifying and punishing fraud but opposes broad attacks on immigrants. “Indiscriminately targeting immigrants is not a real solution to a problem,” he posted on social media.

Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey called Somali residents “our neighbors, our friends and our family,” and signed an order barring federal immigration agencies from staging civil enforcement actions from city-owned parking lots, ramps, garages or vacant lots. The city is also training volunteers with advocacy groups to legally observe ICE activity and help families.

In St. Cloud, a regional hub northwest of Minneapolis, more than 100 residents and local officials gathered at a public library after Trump’s “garbage” remark to show support for Somali neighbors. “There are people here who check on us and stand with us,” said Farhiya Iman, a social worker who grew up in central Minnesota. “But there are also people who think the way the president does.”

A test case: Abdulkadir Sharif Abdi

Among those detained in Operation Metro Surge is Abdulkadir Sharif Abdi, who arrived in 1996 as a Somali refugee and later became a leader in addiction recovery work. ICE calls him a “criminal illegal alien” and gang member, citing theft-related convictions from the late 1990s and early 2000s. Abdi once faced deportation, but remained in the United States for years because Somalia was not accepting deportees.

In later court filings, a U.S. magistrate judge wrote that Abdi had “worked to turn his life around” since about 2007, joining Alcoholics Anonymous, working with police and community groups to steer youths from gangs and extremist circles, and holding a job at a treatment facility. An immigration judge released him on his own recognizance in 2019.

Friends and neighbors say they are stunned he is again in custody, especially as his wife undergoes cancer treatment. “He is the person who gives you the shirt off his back,” said Corrie, who met him in a recovery group. “You can’t even say he goes out of his way to help people — that is just who he is.”

‘We are not going anywhere’

Somali refugees began arriving in Minnesota in significant numbers in the early 1990s, fleeing civil war, famine and state collapse. They built businesses, mosques and mutual aid networks across Minneapolis, St. Paul and regional cities including St. Cloud and Rochester. Today, Somali Minnesotans are nurses and warehouse workers, students and elected officials, truck drivers and entrepreneurs — many raising children who know no other home.

The enforcement surge and political attacks, community leaders say, will not drive them away. “We are not undocumented,” Iman said. “We are not going anywhere.”

By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.

Sunday December 7, 2025

Patrons line up at a cafe inside 24 Somali Mall on Tuesday in Minneapolis. (Joshua Lott/The Washington Post)