In early September 2025, the streets of Metro Boston have taken on a tense, watchful air. For many immigrants, ordinary errands—heading to work, dropping off children at school, or even popping into a grocery store—now come with an undercurrent of anxiety. The reason: a surge in U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) activity, part of a sweeping federal crackdown targeting so-called "sanctuary cities" and reshaping daily life for countless families across Massachusetts and New England.
The latest chapter in this story began on September 4, 2025, when the U.S. Department of Justice filed a lawsuit against Boston Mayor Michelle Wu, the city itself, and its police department. The charge? That Boston’s sanctuary city policies—measures limiting local police cooperation with federal immigration authorities—were interfering with federal immigration enforcement. According to the Associated Press, the lawsuit came just days before the city’s preliminary mayoral election, in which Wu, a vocal defender of sanctuary policies, won handily. In response to the legal action, Wu accused President Donald Trump of “attacking cities to hide his administration’s failures.”
But the lawsuit was only one piece of a broader, rapidly escalating enforcement campaign. In the days that followed, ICE launched "Patriot 2.0," an operation billed as a focused effort on "the worst of the worst criminal illegal aliens" in Massachusetts. Homeland Security Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin made the administration’s position clear: "Sanctuary policies like those pushed by Mayor Wu not only attract and harbor criminals but protect them at the peril of law-abiding American citizens." The agency highlighted the arrest of seven individuals, including a 38-year-old man from Guatemala with prior assault charges, as emblematic of its efforts.
Yet, as the crackdown intensified, the scope of ICE’s activity appeared to extend far beyond individuals with criminal records. Advocates and community organizations began reporting a sharp uptick in detentions across Metro Boston. Immigrants were being picked up while going to work, outside courthouses, and in store parking lots. One particularly jarring incident was captured on video: three landscapers working on the Saugus Town Hall property were arrested after ICE agents smashed their truck window. Such scenes have sown deep fear among immigrant families—many of whom now feel compelled to stay indoors, worried that even a routine outing could end in detainment.
According to Elizabeth Sweet, executive director of the Massachusetts Immigrant and Refugee Advocacy Coalition, "This is really increasing the fear in communities, which is already incredibly high." The apprehension has had ripple effects across civic life. In Everett, just north of Boston, officials canceled the city’s annual Hispanic Heritage Month festival, with the mayor stating it wouldn't be right to "hold a celebration at a time when community members may not feel safe attending."
Supporters of the crackdown, however, argue that such measures are necessary to uphold the law and protect public safety. New Hampshire Republican Governor Kelly Ayotte, who signed legislation this year banning sanctuary city policies in her state, praised the heightened enforcement, vowing not to let New Hampshire "go the way of Massachusetts." Massachusetts U.S. Attorney Leah Foley echoed this stance, stating she is “100% supportive” of ICE’s operation. "We stand ready to charge individuals who violate all federal laws, including those who enter our country without authorization after being deported and those who assault federal law enforcement officers or impede or interfere with federal officers doing their jobs," Foley told the Associated Press.
But on the ground, the reality is more complicated. Community groups, such as the Asian American Resource Workshop, have noted a "spike" in ICE activity, including the detention of five Vietnamese residents from a Boston neighborhood in early September. Kevin Lam, co-executive director of the group, described the difficult choices facing many immigrants: "Many of them are like, ‘Yeah, it is a risk every day when I step out, but I need to work to be able to provide for my family.’" Lam and other advocates say that, despite official claims, the dragnet has swept up not just those with criminal records but also noncriminals and legal immigrants with pending asylum or other relief applications.
"I think you’re going to see more and more how families are going to be torn apart, how individuals with no criminal history, with pending forms of relief, pending applications are just going to be rounded up," said Alexandra Peredo Carroll, director of legal education and advocacy at the Boston-based Mabel Center for Immigrant Justice. She argued that the Trump administration is "trying to fit folks into this narrative of being illegal or having broken the law, when in fact, many of these are individuals who are actually going through the legal process."
The operational reach of ICE has also expanded logistically. Since the summer of 2025, the agency has been utilizing Portsmouth International Airport at Pease in New Hampshire—about an hour from Boston—to transport detainees from across New England. Volunteers monitoring flights at Pease have documented the transfer of more than 300 individuals since early August, with at least five flights per week carrying detainees from New Hampshire, Vermont, Maine, and Massachusetts. All of the detainees have been in shackles, according to protest organizer David Holt. Protests at ICE offices, such as in Burlington, Vermont, have resulted in arrests, highlighting the growing resistance to federal enforcement tactics.
Meanwhile, grassroots organizations have mobilized to support those affected. The Immigrant Justice Network of Massachusetts staffed its hotline with interpreters for a wide array of languages—English, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Mandarin, Haitian Creole, Cape Verdean Kriolu, Nepali, and Vietnamese—to collect reports of ICE sightings and offer assistance. According to advocates, the need for such support has only grown as families report fear about basic activities like picking up children from school or using public transportation.
ICE’s network of contracts with correctional facilities across New England—including county jails, the federal prison in Berlin, New Hampshire, and a privately operated prison in Central Falls, Rhode Island—has enabled the agency to process and detain large numbers of people in a short period. The May 2025 crackdown, which saw nearly 1,500 immigrants detained in Massachusetts alone, set the stage for the current "Patriot 2.0" operation. Yet, ICE has declined to specify how many people have been detained since the latest wave began.
The political and human stakes are high. As cities like Boston and Chicago (where Mayor Brandon Johnson has also condemned the Trump administration’s tactics, calling them "tyranny") become focal points in a national debate over sanctuary policies, the lived experience of immigrant communities is marked by uncertainty and fear. For some, the crackdown is a necessary assertion of federal authority; for others, it’s an overreach that risks tearing apart families and undermining the social fabric of entire neighborhoods.
As the debate rages on, one thing is clear: the effects of the current enforcement wave will be felt for months, if not years, to come. The choices made in Boston and beyond will shape the lives of thousands—and the nation’s ongoing conversation about immigration, justice, and what it means to belong.
