Protesters Storm Minnesota Church, DOJ Promises Action After ICE-Linked Death

Paul Riverbank, 1/19/2026Church protest erupts over ICE shooting, sparking federal investigation and debate on sanctuary spaces.

At the center of the sudden turmoil stood Pastor David Easterwood, one of eight leaders listed on the Cities Church website. Some protesters insisted their real issue was Easterwood’s alleged connection to Immigration and Customs Enforcement—a claim based on the matching name with the acting director of ICE’s St. Paul field office. ICE, for its part, hasn’t said whether the man behind the pulpit is the same as the man in the federal office, but to activists, that uncertainty only seemed to stoke more suspicion.

The outrage, though, is about more than one man. It’s rooted in the recent shooting of Renee Good, a mother of three, who was killed by an ICE agent as she tried to drive away from an enforcement operation in the city. Federal presence has swelled in the Twin Cities, visible enough to stir protests not just in public squares but now in churches—a shift federal officials say represents new territory. In a statement overflowing with frustration, the Department of Homeland Security accused activists of “tracking our officers” and now, it warned, “bringing their disruption into houses of worship.”

Federal investigators are already involved. Citing the federal FACE Act—legislation dating back to the 1990s designed to shield access to clinics and places of worship—Assistant Attorney General Harmeet Dhillon announced that the Civil Rights Division would review whether “the sanctity of religious practice” had been violated and if so, the department would act. “A house of worship is not a protest site. It’s a space shielded by criminal laws,” Dhillon told reporters. The U.S. Attorney’s office hinted at possible action should state authorities prove reluctant to step in themselves.

On the local level, tempers have flared over how best to handle the unrest. Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey appeared defiant during a television interview, painting the demonstrations as fundamentally peaceful (“People are standing up for their neighbors,” was his phrase) and sharply rejecting federal characterizations of chaos. His message was mirrored by Governor Tim Walz. But both have drawn ire from some federal officials, who claim local leaders are pouring fuel on the flames rather than calming the crowd. The debate over who bears responsibility for mounting tension—local officials or federal agencies—now seems as fraught as the original question of how immigration enforcement is carried out in American cities.

There’s anxiety within the faith community as well. Ministers and parishioners have begun worrying that sacred spaces could turn into stages for confrontation, forcing them to weigh hospitality against security in ways that would have been unthinkable a year ago.

Yet, through it all, the human dimension sometimes risks getting lost: neighbors wondering about the next knock at the door, families who hope for an end to both violence and fear. Protesters, meanwhile, insist they’ll keep pressing for accountability over Renee Good’s death and for transparency from ICE. Law enforcement says their mission will continue regardless of protest or public pressure.

Right now, Minnesota’s tension isn’t limited to rallies or city meetings—it pulses even under the stained glass, in whispers and worried glances during Sunday morning prayers. The country, for its part, is again watching as another debate over immigration enforcement, community protest, and religious freedom unfolds—from the cold street corners of St. Paul all the way to Washington, D.C.

A church service in St. Paul, Minnesota, was upended last Sunday when protesters marched into the sanctuary mid-service, their voices rising above the hush of the congregation. "Justice for Renee Good," they chanted, taking up space in the aisle and at the front—some bewildered congregants looked on, while others tried quietly to shepherd the children away. Depending on whom you asked, the disruption was either a courageous stand or, as one worshipper called it, "a sneak operation" that left people genuinely shaken.At the center of the sudden turmoil stood Pastor David Easterwood, one of eight leaders listed on the Cities Church website. Some protesters insisted their real issue was Easterwood’s alleged connection to Immigration and Customs Enforcement—a claim based on the matching name with the acting director of ICE’s St. Paul field office. ICE, for its part, hasn’t said whether the man behind the pulpit is the same as the man in the federal office, but to activists, that uncertainty only seemed to stoke more suspicion.The outrage, though, is about more than one man. It’s rooted in the recent shooting of Renee Good, a mother of three, who was killed by an ICE agent as she tried to drive away from an enforcement operation in the city. Federal presence has swelled in the Twin Cities, visible enough to stir protests not just in public squares but now in churches—a shift federal officials say represents new territory. In a statement overflowing with frustration, the Department of Homeland Security accused activists of “tracking our officers” and now, it warned, “bringing their disruption into houses of worship.”Federal investigators are already involved. Citing the federal FACE Act—legislation dating back to the 1990s designed to shield access to clinics and places of worship—Assistant Attorney General Harmeet Dhillon announced that the Civil Rights Division would review whether “the sanctity of religious practice” had been violated and if so, the department would act. “A house of worship is not a protest site. It’s a space shielded by criminal laws,” Dhillon told reporters. The U.S. Attorney’s office hinted at possible action should state authorities prove reluctant to step in themselves.On the local level, tempers have flared over how best to handle the unrest. Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey appeared defiant during a television interview, painting the demonstrations as fundamentally peaceful (“People are standing up for their neighbors,” was his phrase) and sharply rejecting federal characterizations of chaos. His message was mirrored by Governor Tim Walz. But both have drawn ire from some federal officials, who claim local leaders are pouring fuel on the flames rather than calming the crowd. The debate over who bears responsibility for mounting tension—local officials or federal agencies—now seems as fraught as the original question of how immigration enforcement is carried out in American cities.There’s anxiety within the faith community as well. Ministers and parishioners have begun worrying that sacred spaces could turn into stages for confrontation, forcing them to weigh hospitality against security in ways that would have been unthinkable a year ago.Yet, through it all, the human dimension sometimes risks getting lost: neighbors wondering about the next knock at the door, families who hope for an end to both violence and fear. Protesters, meanwhile, insist they’ll keep pressing for accountability over Renee Good’s death and for transparency from ICE. Law enforcement says their mission will continue regardless of protest or public pressure.Right now, Minnesota’s tension isn’t limited to rallies or city meetings—it pulses even under the stained glass, in whispers and worried glances during Sunday morning prayers. The country, for its part, is again watching as another debate over immigration enforcement, community protest, and religious freedom unfolds—from the cold street corners of St. Paul all the way to Washington, D.C.