How Nightly Hotel Protests Forced ICE Out of Minneapolis
Federal immigration agents withdrew from Minneapolis in February after eight weeks of sustained resistance that made it too hard for them to keep working. What started as spontaneous outrage over the shooting death of a U.S. citizen by ICE evolved into a well-organized pressure campaign targeting the hotels where federal officers slept, the corporations profiting from their presence, and the economic infrastructure supporting their work.
The withdrawal of Operation Metro Surge—which at its peak deployed roughly 3,000 federal agents to the Twin Cities—represents one of the most significant wins for local organizing against enforcement in recent memory. Whether pressure forced the federal government’s hand remains contested. But the connection between growing protests and the operation’s abrupt end is difficult to ignore.
Operation Metro Surge Arrives
Operation Metro Surge landed in Minneapolis like an occupying force. The Trump administration announced the deployment in December 2025 as the largest enforcement operation in Department of Homeland Security history. By early January, approximately 2,000 ICE agents and 1,000 Border Patrol officers had descended on a metro area with an estimated 130,000 undocumented immigrants. That’s less than one percent of the nation’s total undocumented population.
At its peak, the operation deployed roughly five times the total manpower of the Minneapolis Police Department itself.
Then came January 7. Renée Good, a 37-year-old mother of three and U.S. citizen, was fatally shot by ICE agent Jonathan Ross while sitting in her vehicle. Good had been engaged in legal observation of ICE enforcement activity when officers from a stuck federal vehicle approached her car.
Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem claimed Good “attacked ICE agents and attempted to run them over.” Journalist Jake Tapper challenged this narrative on national television: “That’s not what happened. We all saw what happened.” Video evidence contradicted the official account. An independent autopsy revealed Good had sustained four gunshot wounds, including fatal wounds to her chest and head.
Over 1,000 demonstrators gathered at a downtown hotel two days later. Police declared an unlawful assembly and arrested 30 people.
Three weeks later, federal officers killed another U.S. citizen. Alex Pretti, a 37-year-old intensive care nurse at the Minneapolis VA Medical Center, was shot by Border Patrol agents while attempting to assist protesters being pepper-sprayed. Forensic audio analysis verified that ten shots were fired in less than five seconds. Video showed Pretti holding a cell phone, not a weapon.
DHS officials claimed Pretti “arrived at the scene to inflict maximum damage on individuals and to kill law enforcement.” Former acting DHS undersecretary John Cohen reviewed the video evidence and concluded it contained “nothing that would support” such a characterization.
Two U.S. citizens dead in three weeks. Both killed by federal officers. Both deaths surrounded by official narratives contradicted by video evidence.
Targeting Hotels Where Agents Slept
The hotel protest tactic emerged from a simple tactical calculation: federal officers had to sleep somewhere. Confronting them at their residences offered strategic advantages that street confrontations didn’t.
At enforcement sites, the power imbalance favored armed federal officers. Protesters faced pepper spray, flash-bang grenades, and—as the deaths of Good and Pretti demonstrated—lethal force. But at hotels, the dynamic shifted. Federal officers were off-duty, vulnerable, and dependent on corporate hospitality infrastructure that could be pressured through multiple channels.
Residents used multiple information sources to identify which hotel chains, particularly Hilton properties, had agreed to house ICE and Border Patrol agents. Rather than fighting federal officers directly, organizers could apply pressure to the corporations profiting from ICE and disrupt officer morale through sustained presence at their residences.
Initial protests involved large numbers of demonstrators gathering outside hotels, using drums, horns, and amplified chanting to disrupt sleep and signal presence. By late January, organizers had developed coordinated schedules for nightly demonstrations, with organized shifts maintaining presence outside multiple hotel locations simultaneously.
Approximately 1,000 people gathered outside the Home2Suites by Hilton in subzero temperatures on January 25. Federal officers responded with tear gas and flash-bang grenades. The January 29 demonstration at the Graduate Hotel resulted in 67 arrests, including a transgender street medic who’d organized medical support.
The 50501 Movement coordinated what it termed a “No Sleep for ICE” campaign that encouraged multiple creative forms of action. Activists contacted hotels directly to lodge complaints, left one-star online reviews explaining their reasoning, and engaged in strategic booking and cancellation of reservations to disrupt hotel work and financial projections.
This pressure from multiple directions targeted not only reputation and public relations but also immediate day-to-day business and money concerns.
Building Infrastructure for Community Defense
While nightly hotel protests grabbed headlines, organizers simultaneously built technological and organizational infrastructure to provide immediate warning of ICE enforcement activity and enable rapid mobilization.
Residents monitoring ICE activity coordinated through encrypted messaging platforms. Dedicated Signal groups enabled instant alerts across geographic areas. At the neighborhood scale, residents in areas with significant immigrant populations organized informal monitoring systems. Designated observers tracked ICE vehicle movements and reported to coordinate response.
These reports were distributed through encrypted messaging to legal support networks, organizations, and mutual aid coordinators who could mobilize immediate responses. Legal observers could be alerted to document ICE enforcement activity for potential legal challenges. Residents could gather to calm down confrontations. Families could be warned to shelter in place or evacuate from particular areas during enforcement sweeps.
Organizers designed systems with attention to encryption, device security, and limiting information access to trusted network members.
Indigenous-led organizations, particularly the American Indian Movement and the Many Shields Warrior Society, organized neighborhood patrols that provided physical presence in vulnerable areas. According to reports, these patrols operated with combat medical kits, reflecting preparation for potential violent encounters based on the precedent of federal involvement in the deaths of Good and Pretti.
The integration of Indigenous leadership represented both continuity with AIM’s historical role in defense dating to its 1968 founding and a strategy of centering the perspectives and security needs of groups with historical experience of state violence.
Mobilizing Institutions as Sanctuary Spaces
Organizers mobilized institutional actors including schools, religious organizations, and other civil society institutions to declare unofficial sanctuary status and establish policies restricting federal enforcement access.
Minneapolis Public Schools initially responded by canceling classes for the remainder of the week following Good’s shooting. The district cited safety concerns after federal officers used pepper spray against students at Roosevelt High School. Subsequent communications offered remote learning options through mid-February, reflecting ongoing concerns about safe transportation and campus security.
Approximately 100 clergy members gathered at Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport on January 23 to demand an end to ICE work. Around 100 were arrested during peaceful demonstrations. Multiple faith traditions participated, with a coalition of Baptist, Lutheran, Metropolitan Community Church, and other congregations coordinating sanctuary protections.
In February, a federal judge issued an injunction blocking DHS from conducting enforcement without warrants at these religious facilities. The order protected not only church buildings themselves but also parking lots and areas within 100 feet of church entrances.
Escalating to Economic Disruption
The hotel protest effort gained momentum when combined with broader economic shutdown strategy. Organizers called for an economic blackout and general strike in the Twin Cities on January 23. It became one of the most significant labor stoppages in recent American history.
Over 700 businesses closed their doors in solidarity. Organizers estimated that 50,000 individuals participated in accompanying street demonstrations in subzero temperatures. The scale extended protest beyond the activist base to encompass small business owners, restaurant workers, cultural institutions, and large institutional actors.
Over 1,000 labor unions endorsed the action. Minneapolis Regional Labor Federation leadership mobilized members. The city council formally supported the strike, demonstrating official political support with the protest movement.
A report commissioned by the movement estimated losses exceeding $200 million from the cumulative effects of Operation Metro Surge. This included business disruption, overtime police costs, school closures, and related impacts. The general strike and ongoing hotel protests extended these costs, creating financial incentives for politicians and federal officials to calculate the costs of maintaining the surge operation.
Following the strike, organizers coordinated a second major escalation on January 31. Over 300 simultaneous protests took place across the country. Organizers claimed approximately 50,000 participants in the Twin Cities alone. This geographic expansion turned the resistance into a national effort and created a sense that ICE faced coordinated opposition across multiple jurisdictions.
Corporate Pressure Goes National
The hotel action evolved from local neighborhood demonstrations into a coordinated national effort to hold corporations responsible. The 50501 Movement and allied organizations launched a boycott targeting Hilton Worldwide, as the hotel chain appeared to be the primary accommodation provider for ICE agents in the Twin Cities and other cities.
Over 100 demonstrators occupied the lobby of a Hilton Garden Inn in New York City’s Tribeca neighborhood on January 27. The action resulted in more than 60 arrests. Protesters wore t-shirts reading “HILTON HOUSES ICE” and chanted slogans clearly communicating their core message regarding corporate responsibility.
Sunrise Movement Twin Cities, working in coalition with other organizations, pressured two hotels in Saint Paul to “pause their operations and close temporarily.” The effort damaged Hilton’s public reputation and generated negative media coverage linking the corporation to ICE enforcement and the deaths of Good and Pretti.
Financial advice expert Ramit Sethi organized a boycott of Hilton properties. Civil rights attorneys coordinated efforts encouraging Hilton Honors members to cancel their accounts. The work also inspired action on other corporations, with attention expanding to include Target’s provision of ICE with surveillance capabilities and other corporate relationships with federal enforcement.
By early February, the corporate action had yielded measurable outcomes. Capgemini, a major French consulting firm, announced the sale of its U.S. division that had been awarded a $4.8 million DHS contract for “skip tracing services.” Jim Pattison Developments, a Canadian real estate company, abandoned plans to sell a warehouse in Ashland, Virginia, to DHS after public action. Hootsuite, a Canadian social media management platform, responded to demonstrations at its Vancouver headquarters by issuing a statement acknowledging concerns.
These corporate responses demonstrated that sustained action could generate institutional actors’ recalculation of the damage to reputation and day-to-day operations of continued engagement with enforcement.
However, Hilton Worldwide didn’t agree to organizers’ main demand for termination of all contracts with enforcement agencies. After initially withdrawing franchise status from a franchisee that refused to house ICE agents, the corporation continued to provide accommodations while attempting to handle political action.
The Withdrawal and What It Means
Border Czar Tom Homan announced the conclusion of Operation Metro Surge on February 12. More than 1,000 federal agents had already departed Minnesota. The operation was concluding and remaining agents were being reassigned.
Homan framed the withdrawal as evidence of successful achievement of the operation’s objectives. According to his statement, the operation had resulted in over 4,000 arrests, achieved coordination with local law enforcement, and de-escalated tensions. He emphasized that cooperation with local authorities and jails had reached high levels.
This framing was immediately contested. Mayor Jacob Frey declared victory: “They thought they could break us, but a love for our neighbors and a resolve to endure can outlast an occupation.” He attributed the withdrawal to resistance rather than federal success.
Governor Tim Walz characterized the withdrawal as an admission that federal agents recognized the political costs of continued work. The ACLU of Minnesota welcomed the announcement while emphasizing that federal agents remained present in some capacity and that accountability for documented constitutional violations hadn’t been achieved.
The continued presence of unspecified numbers of federal agents raised questions about the scope of the withdrawal. Homan’s statement regarding a “small security force” to respond to future confrontations, combined with agents remaining to conduct fraud investigations, suggested ongoing federal work despite public framing of operational conclusion.
Did the protests force the federal government’s hand, or did Operation Metro Surge run its planned course? The Trump administration had every incentive to claim victory regardless of outcomes. Movement organizers had every incentive to claim their tactics worked.
The evidence suggests action played a significant role, even if it wasn’t the sole factor. The timing of the withdrawal—coming after eight weeks of sustained, escalating protests rather than at a predetermined endpoint—suggests reacting to events rather than following a plan. The costs documented by the movement’s commissioned report created concrete financial incentives for withdrawal. The deaths of two U.S. citizens generated negative national media coverage that undermined the operation’s political viability.
But the operation’s relocation rather than permanent abandonment raises questions about whether the movement forced genuine policy change or moved enforcement somewhere else. The absence of accountability for agents responsible for civilian deaths represented a failure to achieve a core stated objective. Congressional action to restrict ICE remained unrealized, with appropriations battles ongoing.
The resistance is best understood not as conclusive victory but as a significant escalation in capacity to resist federal enforcement. The movement demonstrated that sustained, creative, decentralized organizing could make it costly enough politically and practically for federal officials to compel recalculation of enforcement strategies.
The hotel protest tactics—combining nightly demonstrations with corporate action, consumer boycotts, and digital organizing—proved effective in generating visibility, media attention, and corporate response. The integration of hotel workers as targets for labor organizing rather than sympathetic bystanders could amplify action on corporate decision-makers in future efforts.
Whether these gains prove durable depends on whether the movement can sustain mobilization at reduced scale, maintain the coalition structures developed during the crisis period, and turn political energy into laws and policy change requiring continued action over extended timeframes beyond the initial eight-week intense organizing period.
What’s clear is that a relatively small number of dedicated organizers, combined with broader support, made operating in the Twin Cities sufficiently costly that federal officials decided to deploy their resources elsewhere. That’s not nothing. It’s a template that other places facing similar enforcement can study, adapt, and potentially replicate.
This article analyzes protest and activism tactics for educational purposes. We aim to contribute to effective and ethical efforts across the political spectrum, and we present diverse viewpoints and ideas without endorsement.