Immigration enforcement in Minnesota

In central Minnesota, a family fearing deportation hides from ICE

Cold Spring family
A Cold Spring family looks at a birthday cake brought by a volunteer on Saturday, Feb. 28.
Kirsti Marohn | MPR News

In Cold Spring, about 15 miles southwest of St. Cloud, Emily Thabes unloaded plastic bags from her car filled with groceries, paper towels and toilet paper.

Thabes, a volunteer who lives in Bemidji, drove almost three hours to bring supplies to a family living in hiding. Inside, she was greeted warmly by a couple and their five children, who have barely left their home in three months – not since federal immigration agents descended on Minnesota. 

"We have a lot of fear of going out. We don't go out," said the dad. MPR News agreed to identify him by his initials, B.P., because the family is afraid of being targeted by Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE.

The number of federal immigration agents in Minnesota has dwindled in recent weeks, but many immigrants are still living in fear of being detained by ICE. The Cold Spring family is among those whose lives were upended by the enforcement surge and haven't yet returned to normal.

Making a home in Cold Spring

Both B.P. and his wife, R.B., are from Nicaragua and speak Spanish. They spoke through an interpreter. They've lived in Cold Spring for almost six years. R.B. said she left her home country in 2015 to escape domestic abuse from a previous partner.

“For the safety of myself and my children, I just could not go back there,” she said. “I had to protect them and protect myself."

R.B. and B.P. met and married in the U.S. They worked on dairy farms in South Dakota and Wisconsin before settling in Cold Spring, where they both worked at a feed plant.

"We give thanks to God for being here, because finally, we have our own little home,” B.P. said. “We have a place here now."

They said they chose Cold Spring because it's relatively close to the Twin Cities. Their 17-year-old daughter has a serious lung condition that requires frequent medical treatment. 

They also like the rural nature of Stearns County. It’s a good place to live, R.B. said, because there are trees, and her daughter can go outside and breathe clean air. 

Until recently, Cold Spring has felt safe and welcoming, they said. But in the last few months, it's been a target for federal immigration enforcement. 

R.B. said ICE agents have been seen around places where Latino residents work, including near the city's chicken processing plant, a brewery and a granite company.

The couple doesn't have permanent legal status in the U.S. They say they have applied for asylum.

The risks of venturing out

But right now, they're worried about being deported back to Nicaragua, which they say would be devastating. R.B. said the medications her daughter needs aren't available in Nicaragua. So for now, the couple said they haven’t been able to go to work.

They’re even afraid to go to the store. They've been relying on volunteers like Thabes to deliver groceries.

“We've had to ask for help a lot recently, to pay utilities, to pay for food, to pay for rent,” R.B. said.

The youngest boy recently celebrated his 7th birthday. R.B. served up tacos and tamales in the kitchen. Thabes brought a cake decorated with plastic dinosaurs and a volcano that actually erupted.

It was a good day. But R.B. said the family is tired of spending so much time cooped up inside the house. The kids have recently returned to school, as ICE’s presence diminishes. But she said they often ask why they can't go outside to play or go to a restaurant like they used to.

"They ask a lot of questions that sometimes it's very difficult for us to answer,” R.B. said.

Still, she said they’re hopeful that their lives will return to normal soon.

“We’re hoping for things to just get better,” R.B. said.