From Lawmen to 'Occupiers': ICE Faces Fury in Minnesota Meltdown

Paul Riverbank, 1/16/2026A once-routine agency now faces fierce national debate. As ICE’s work comes under political and media fire, the debate over immigration enforcement reveals stark fault lines—raising questions about legality, morality, and the evolving role of law enforcement in American society.

That was during the Obama administration—a chapter that, in retrospect, carries a certain muted steadiness. The coverage had an almost clinical restraint. ICE was a fact of life, their actions framed as lawful and, for many Americans, uncontroversial. I recall it being far more common to hear about ICE targeting individuals already flagged by the criminal justice system. There were no shouts about “fascism”; few, if any, protest murals splashed onto courthouse walls. When networks told these stories, it felt more like documenting a routine procedure than issuing an indictment.

Something has given way since then. The scenes unfolding now, particularly in cities like Minneapolis or St. Paul, are charged with a tension that seems almost volcanic. After a recent shooting involving ICE officers, thousands poured into the streets—some holding signs, others raising phones, recording officers in real time. It’s a landscape thick with high emotion. Politicians, sensing the magnitude, have adjusted their language accordingly.

Governor Tim Walz of Minnesota, for instance, didn’t mince words. He labeled ICE’s presence an “occupation,” urging residents to gather evidence, almost as if preparing for a future tribunal. And on cable news, Ari Fleischer was quick to highlight that rhetoric, quoting Walz’s references to “atrocities” and his urging people to “take to the streets”—words that just a decade ago would have been considered incendiary, even by partisan standards.

Yet, for the agency’s leadership, this is more than just a PR headache. David Sheahan—who came to ICE after stops in places as varied as Ohio and Louisiana—oversaw a major ramp-up of hiring when the Trump administration set about reinforcing immigration protocols. The position was never soft, but these days it comes with a kind of pressure that led even Sheahan to step aside, reportedly to pursue a run for Congress. Political endorsements arrived quickly, with South Dakota’s Governor Kristi Noem hailing Sheahan as a future champion on the national stage.

Simultaneously, resistance hasn’t ebbed. On the contrary, advocacy groups are louder than ever. As Fleischer recently framed it on Fox News, what has shifted isn’t the law itself, but political will—and willingness—to enforce it. According to him, a softer stance on border enforcement over the years is precisely what fueled today’s confrontations.

The debate has ballooned beyond the scale of simple policy. When President Trump floated the possibility of invoking the Insurrection Act in response to Minnesota protests, America cleaved into its familiar camps—cheers here, dire warnings there. Suddenly, arguments aren’t just about how to enforce current statutes, but whether enforcement is desirable at all.

Network news coverage has evolved, too. The once clipped, almost procedural, treatment of ICE’s activities has all but evaporated. Now, anchors convene panels where guests may equate ICE with the darkest corners of 20th-century history, drawing lines to the Gestapo and raising suspicion even to the presence of masks on arresting agents. Not every discussion is so breathless, but a sense of fracture is impossible to ignore.

Still, when the headlines move on, ICE agents return to their work—enforcing congressional mandates, operating under scrutiny that can at times be hostile. The safety protocols remain: blurred faces, hidden identities, heavy vests. But the context is different. Protesters see symbols of state power, policymakers see a crucible for the nation’s values.

It’s striking how what was barely remarked upon—routine federal law enforcement—has become, in some quarters, a full-blown controversy. On both sides of the debate, the language is that of existential threat. A network commentator, searching for perspective, remarked that “this isn’t something out of Pinochet’s Chile,” though for some, it feels closer to that reality than ever before.

So the basic question, recast a thousand ways on social media and cable news, lingers: Is ICE fulfilling a necessary function, or does the agency belong to another era? Whatever Americans decide in the coming years will shape not only this agency, but the very boundaries of how our nation defines justice and the rule of law. Having reported on these agencies for decades, I can say this: The stakes—and the scrutiny—have never been higher.

Not so long ago, prime-time television lent viewers a front-row seat to law enforcement operations, as camera crews sat in back seats with ICE agents, quietly documenting the work of the agency. On one particular evening, I watched a segment where the reporters, voices low, followed the agents through rain-darkened city streets. Faces of both officers and those they questioned flickered into anonymity behind digital blurs. The approach wasn’t flashy, nor sensational—just the business of federal enforcement, filmed for the record.That was during the Obama administration—a chapter that, in retrospect, carries a certain muted steadiness. The coverage had an almost clinical restraint. ICE was a fact of life, their actions framed as lawful and, for many Americans, uncontroversial. I recall it being far more common to hear about ICE targeting individuals already flagged by the criminal justice system. There were no shouts about “fascism”; few, if any, protest murals splashed onto courthouse walls. When networks told these stories, it felt more like documenting a routine procedure than issuing an indictment.Something has given way since then. The scenes unfolding now, particularly in cities like Minneapolis or St. Paul, are charged with a tension that seems almost volcanic. After a recent shooting involving ICE officers, thousands poured into the streets—some holding signs, others raising phones, recording officers in real time. It’s a landscape thick with high emotion. Politicians, sensing the magnitude, have adjusted their language accordingly.Governor Tim Walz of Minnesota, for instance, didn’t mince words. He labeled ICE’s presence an “occupation,” urging residents to gather evidence, almost as if preparing for a future tribunal. And on cable news, Ari Fleischer was quick to highlight that rhetoric, quoting Walz’s references to “atrocities” and his urging people to “take to the streets”—words that just a decade ago would have been considered incendiary, even by partisan standards.Yet, for the agency’s leadership, this is more than just a PR headache. David Sheahan—who came to ICE after stops in places as varied as Ohio and Louisiana—oversaw a major ramp-up of hiring when the Trump administration set about reinforcing immigration protocols. The position was never soft, but these days it comes with a kind of pressure that led even Sheahan to step aside, reportedly to pursue a run for Congress. Political endorsements arrived quickly, with South Dakota’s Governor Kristi Noem hailing Sheahan as a future champion on the national stage.Simultaneously, resistance hasn’t ebbed. On the contrary, advocacy groups are louder than ever. As Fleischer recently framed it on Fox News, what has shifted isn’t the law itself, but political will—and willingness—to enforce it. According to him, a softer stance on border enforcement over the years is precisely what fueled today’s confrontations.The debate has ballooned beyond the scale of simple policy. When President Trump floated the possibility of invoking the Insurrection Act in response to Minnesota protests, America cleaved into its familiar camps—cheers here, dire warnings there. Suddenly, arguments aren’t just about how to enforce current statutes, but whether enforcement is desirable at all.Network news coverage has evolved, too. The once clipped, almost procedural, treatment of ICE’s activities has all but evaporated. Now, anchors convene panels where guests may equate ICE with the darkest corners of 20th-century history, drawing lines to the Gestapo and raising suspicion even to the presence of masks on arresting agents. Not every discussion is so breathless, but a sense of fracture is impossible to ignore.Still, when the headlines move on, ICE agents return to their work—enforcing congressional mandates, operating under scrutiny that can at times be hostile. The safety protocols remain: blurred faces, hidden identities, heavy vests. But the context is different. Protesters see symbols of state power, policymakers see a crucible for the nation’s values.It’s striking how what was barely remarked upon—routine federal law enforcement—has become, in some quarters, a full-blown controversy. On both sides of the debate, the language is that of existential threat. A network commentator, searching for perspective, remarked that “this isn’t something out of Pinochet’s Chile,” though for some, it feels closer to that reality than ever before.So the basic question, recast a thousand ways on social media and cable news, lingers: Is ICE fulfilling a necessary function, or does the agency belong to another era? Whatever Americans decide in the coming years will shape not only this agency, but the very boundaries of how our nation defines justice and the rule of law. Having reported on these agencies for decades, I can say this: The stakes—and the scrutiny—have never been higher.