On December 3, 2025, the U.S. Department of Homeland Security kicked off a new immigration operation in New Orleans, sending shockwaves through the city’s diverse communities and sparking heated debate among residents, officials, and advocates. The move, which came at the request of Louisiana Governor Jeff Landry, who also sought Pentagon support to deploy the state National Guard, has drawn comparisons to similar federal crackdowns in other major U.S. cities—often with troubling results for Black and brown populations, according to reporting from Verite News and commentary published by the Louisiana Illuminator.
Governor Landry justified the deployment by claiming the need to target so-called "criminals," but many in New Orleans see the operation as an echo of President Donald Trump’s broader rhetoric, which critics say paints immigrants with a broad and often dehumanizing brush. The city’s immigrant communities, while smaller than those in Los Angeles or Chicago, are described as vibrant and essential to the local economy, history, and culture—especially given their crucial role in rebuilding after Hurricane Katrina two decades ago.
Ironically, the city’s own crime statistics appear to undermine the justification for a federal crackdown. According to the New Orleans Police Department, major reported incidents of violence are actually down in 2025 compared to the previous year. Still, the specter of increased federal and state law enforcement presence has left many families, particularly in Jefferson Parish, fearful. Some parents have even kept their children home from school, worried about the prospect of immigration raids targeting schools.
For longtime residents, the deployment of the National Guard stirs up memories of the post-Katrina era, when bureaucratic failures hampered the Guard’s ability to help and sometimes caused more harm than good. Now, critics warn, today’s actions could irreparably damage not only immigrant communities but the entire city, fueling fear and undermining the hard-won sense of safety among New Orleanians and visitors alike.
The city’s response to the federal operation has been mixed. New Orleans Police Superintendent Anne Kirkpatrick has stated that her officers will not participate in civil deportation operations, which she says fall outside their duties. However, she has also indicated that the department will cooperate with federal agents, a stance that in other cities has led to abuses and blurred lines of accountability. This ambiguity has left many residents and advocates unsettled, especially in light of New Orleans’ recent history with law enforcement oversight.
Just this year, a federal court ended a 12-year consent decree that had provided court supervision of NOPD activity after the U.S. Department of Justice found, back in 2011, that the department engaged in excessive use of force, unconstitutional stops and arrests, and discriminatory policing. The end of federal oversight has heightened concerns that the police department might revert to old habits, especially if called upon to assist in federal immigration enforcement or to quell protests and dissent.
These worries aren’t unfounded. In places like Memphis, Los Angeles, Chicago, Charlotte, and Washington, D.C., similar federal deployments have resulted in major abuses of Black and brown people. Residents in those cities have reported harassment by federal officers, with Border Patrol agents openly stating they stop people based on appearance. There have been incidents where federal officers turned their weapons on activists and journalists, and where immigration authorities have arrested U.S. citizens—sometimes violently.
In New Orleans, the fear is not just theoretical. The city is already facing a $160 million budget crisis, forcing officials to halt overtime pay for police, firefighters, and emergency medical service employees. Critics argue that diverting resources to support federal immigration enforcement will only make things worse, pulling money away from initiatives that have actually made the city safer—like youth services and community investment programs.
Further muddying the waters, Louisiana passed Act 399 in June 2025, a controversial law that criminalizes "obstruction" of federal immigration enforcement and carries the threat of "hard labor." According to its author, one purpose of the bill is to force local assistance with federal immigration officers. The law has already been challenged in court, but it adds another layer of complexity for city officials trying to balance local priorities with state and federal demands.
Nationally, the debate over immigration enforcement is playing out in courtrooms and city halls. In 2025, a federal judge in California dismissed a lawsuit filed by 276 people—nearly half from Louisiana—who alleged that U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) had illegally detained them for extended periods, targeting Russian-speaking asylum seekers from countries like Russia, Georgia, and Kazakhstan. The plaintiffs claimed that ICE operated an unwritten "Russian Detention & Deterrence Scheme," issuing blanket denials to their requests for temporary release while cases were pending. The court’s dismissal of the case leaves many questions about transparency and fairness in federal detention policies.
The consequences of aggressive immigration enforcement are deeply personal, as illustrated by the story of Stephanie Ali and her family. As Verite News reported, Ali did not realize she and her family were being deported to Honduras until they reached their gate inside a Houston airport in late January 2025. ICE agents in Louisiana had assured her that they were not under arrest and were not being deported. Yet, by the next day, they found themselves back in Honduras—a country where Ali was born but barely remembered. Stories like hers highlight the profound uncertainty and trauma faced by immigrant families caught in the machinery of federal enforcement.
Meanwhile, New Orleans has seen other major developments in 2025. The city marked the 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, reflecting on the disaster’s lasting impact on the Gulf Coast. In local politics, Helena Moreno secured a decisive victory in the mayoral election, while Calvin Duncan, a political newcomer wrongfully incarcerated for nearly 30 years, won the Orleans Parish Criminal District Court clerk election by a wide margin. After a tumultuous term at the Orleans Parish Sheriff’s Office, voters chose Michelle Woodfork—previously acting police chief—to replace Susan Hutson as sheriff. Each of these stories, covered by Verite News, reveals a city in flux, wrestling with its past and present challenges.
Against this backdrop, local advocates are urging New Orleans officials to take a stronger stand to protect residents from potential federal abuses. They point to examples from other cities: in Minneapolis, the police chief now requires officers to intervene if federal agents use excessive force; in Chicago, the mayor has issued executive orders prohibiting the use of city property for immigration enforcement. These measures, advocates argue, could serve as models for New Orleans as it navigates the current crisis.
As legal challenges to Act 399 unfold and as federal, state, and local authorities continue to jostle for control, the city’s future hangs in the balance. The choices made now will shape not only the fate of its immigrant communities but the very character of New Orleans itself—its sense of safety, justice, and belonging.
