On the streets of Kenner, Louisiana, the usual bustle of Hispanic-owned businesses has given way to an uneasy hush. Restaurants that once brimmed with conversation and the scent of home-cooked meals now sit shuttered, their doors locked and their tables empty. It’s a dramatic change, and if you ask locals, it’s not just about business—it’s about fear. In recent weeks, a sweeping federal immigration crackdown has left a community on edge, with repercussions rippling far beyond Kenner’s city limits and reaching into classrooms and homes as far away as North Carolina.
According to the Associated Press, the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) launched the latest in a series of high-profile enforcement operations in Kenner at the start of December 2025. The operation, dubbed “Catahoula Crunch” after the Louisiana state dog, aims for 5,000 arrests and has already sent convoys of federal vehicles rumbling down the city’s main commercial streets. Videos posted by bystanders show federal agents detaining people outside businesses and at construction sites. The sudden, visible presence of law enforcement has upended daily life in this city, where about 30 percent of residents are Hispanic—a population that has grown substantially since many arrived after 2005’s Hurricane Katrina to help rebuild the region.
For business owners like Carmela Diaz, the crackdown has been devastating. Diaz, who emigrated from El Salvador and built her business from food trucks to brick-and-mortar restaurants, described the toll in stark terms. "Fewer and fewer people came," Diaz told the Associated Press, her voice breaking. "There were days we didn't sell anything. That's why I made the decision to close the business -- because there was no business." Her Taqueria La Conquistadora, once a community mainstay, has been closed for weeks. Both customers and employees are simply too afraid to leave home. Diaz now scrapes by making home deliveries to those too frightened to venture out, regardless of their legal status. She added, "They don't respect anyone. They don't ask for documents. They don't investigate. They slap the handcuffs on them and take them away."
The economic impact is immediate and severe. Mayra Pineda, CEO of the Louisiana Hispanic Chamber of Commerce and a longtime Kenner resident, expressed deep concern for the future. "How are these business owners going to survive?" she asked. "I don't know. But let's be clear -- it's not only on the Hispanic community but bad for all of us, for the economy in general." The once-vibrant neighborhoods, filled with Spanish-language signs and the sounds of community, now feel deserted—a chilling testament to the power of fear.
But the debate over the crackdown is far from one-sided. Kenner Police Chief Keith Conley has described the federal operation as a "prayer answered for us." According to Conley, while overall crime is down in the city, there remain concerns about violent crimes involving immigrants who entered the U.S. illegally. The police department has released a dozen press statements since 2022 detailing cases—ranging from sex crimes and murder to gang activity and shootings—where suspects were allegedly undocumented immigrants. In 2023 alone, Kenner reported 4,436 total offenses, including 863 classified as "crimes against persons," based on data from the Louisiana Statistical Analysis Center.
Chief Conley also noted that while violent crime is troubling, so too are more everyday issues like traffic stops and car accidents involving uninsured and unlicensed drivers who are undocumented. Though the local police are not currently assisting in the federal operation, Conley emphasized that his department is ready to help if asked. Kenner is among hundreds of local and state agencies nationwide that have signed agreements with Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), authorizing them to hold detainees for potential deportation.
State Senator Kirk Talbot, who represents part of Kenner, echoed these sentiments. He told the Associated Press, "I think the people that come here illegally -- who flee authorities and, especially, ones that have criminal records -- need to obey the law and they need to be caught and deported." Talbot insisted that residents who are in the U.S. legally have "nothing to be afraid of," suggesting the crackdown will ultimately benefit the city by targeting lawbreakers.
DHS spokesperson Tricia McLaughlin reinforced the agency’s position, stating, "Americans should be able to live without fear of violent criminal illegal aliens harming them, their families, or their neighbors." She reported that within just 24 hours of the operation’s launch, law enforcement officers had arrested individuals with criminal histories including homicide, kidnapping, child abuse, robbery, theft, and assault. However, DHS has not released a full list of those detained, leaving many in the community anxious about who might be next.
Yet for many in Kenner’s Hispanic community, the reality is far more complicated. Sergio Perez, a Guatemalan immigrant and U.S. citizen who has lived in the city since 2010, said he worries constantly for loved ones who lack legal status. The fear is not just for those at risk of deportation, but for anyone who might be profiled or abused by federal agents. "They don't want us here," Perez said. "It's like you are in someone's house and you don't feel welcome. They're just killing our spirit." For Perez and many others, Kenner is home—a place where family recipes like caldo de res are as much a part of daily life as the Mississippi breeze. But that sense of belonging is now under threat.
The impact of aggressive immigration enforcement is not confined to Louisiana. In North Carolina, a recent opinion letter published in The Fayetteville Observer on December 7, 2025, described how a rising climate of fear is shaping the daily lives of immigrant children. The author, Arif Sharif, recounted heartbreaking stories of young students—some as young as third grade—staring anxiously out classroom windows, terrified that federal agents might arrive at any moment. The anxiety, Sharif wrote, deepens at home, where children witness their parents watching news reports of detentions and violence. "This anxiety deepens as children go home and see their parents watching news of people being beaten, detained or pepper-sprayed—symbols and metaphors of a state of fear that no child should absorb," Sharif wrote.
Sharif’s letter referenced the landmark Supreme Court decision Plyler v. Doe, which affirmed that all children, regardless of immigration status, have the right to an education free from intimidation. The letter argued that schools must remain safeguarded spaces, allowing children to focus on learning rather than living in dread of enforcement actions. "We must support our schools and safeguard these young minds so their days are shaped by learning—not by the dread of enforcement," Sharif urged.
As federal operations like Catahoula Crunch continue, the debate over immigration enforcement is likely to intensify. Advocates for stricter enforcement argue it is necessary for public safety and the rule of law. Opponents warn of the deep social and economic costs, not just for immigrants but for entire communities—business owners, children, and longtime residents alike. For now, the fear is palpable, and the future for many remains uncertain.
In the end, the story unfolding in Kenner and across North Carolina is a reminder of the complex, human stakes behind immigration policy—a story of livelihoods interrupted, classrooms unsettled, and a community’s spirit tested.
