In recent weeks, the United States has witnessed a dramatic escalation in federal immigration enforcement, with major crackdowns unfolding in cities like New Orleans and Charlotte. These operations, launched by the Trump administration and spearheaded by the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), have sparked heated debate, community resistance, and a wave of anxiety among immigrant families and local businesses. As the dust settles, the true impact of these enforcement actions is coming into sharper focus—not only in the numbers of those arrested, but also in the ripple effects felt across entire communities.
On December 4, 2025, federal officials kicked off a sweeping two-month operation in New Orleans, dubbed “Catahoula Crunch.” According to the Associated Press, the stated goal was ambitious: 5,000 arrests, a figure that would surpass similar enforcement blitzes in larger immigrant hubs like Chicago. To put that into perspective, the entire Chicago operation earlier in the fall—covering a city with a much larger foreign-born population—netted just over 4,000 arrests in two months.
New Orleans, with its storied international heritage and a foreign-born population of nearly 100,000 (almost 60% of whom are not U.S. citizens, per Census Bureau data), suddenly found itself at the center of this national crackdown. Yet, local leaders and advocates immediately questioned the rationale and feasibility of the operation’s targets. “There is no rational basis that a sweep of New Orleans, or the surrounding parishes, would ever yield anywhere near 5,000 criminals, let alone ones that are considered ‘violent’ by any definition,” New Orleans City Council President J.P. Morrell told the Associated Press. Morrell pointed out that violent crime in the city had actually dropped by 12% through October compared to the previous year, with police data showing a decline from 2,167 to 1,897 violent crimes.
Despite federal claims that the operation would focus on those with violent criminal records, the reality on the ground told a different story. “They came here to take criminals and they are taking our working people. They are not here doing what they are supposed to do. They are taking families,” said Alejandra Vasquez, a local community organizer, as she described the flood of messages and videos documenting arrests in parking lots and neighborhoods. Several hundred agents from Customs and Border Protection (CBP) and Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) fanned out across the region, making arrests in home improvement store parking lots and patrolling immigrant-heavy neighborhoods.
The operation quickly met resistance. At a New Orleans City Council meeting, chants of “Shame” erupted as protesters were forcibly removed by police. City councilmember Lesli Harris voiced frustration: “There are nowhere near 5,000 violent offenders in our region whom Border Patrol could arrest. What we’re seeing instead are mothers, teenagers, and workers being detained during routine check-ins, from their homes and places of work. Immigration violations are civil matters, not criminal offenses, and sweeping up thousands of residents who pose no threat will destabilize families, harm our economy.”
Data from previous crackdowns lend weight to these concerns. During Chicago’s “Operation Midway Blitz” in September and October, over 4,000 people were arrested, but only about 15% had criminal convictions—and the vast majority of those were for nonviolent offenses like traffic violations or misdemeanors. The Associated Press, citing ICE arrest data analyzed by the University of California Berkeley Deportation Data Project, found that roughly 1,900 people were detained in the first six weeks, with only about 300 having any criminal record.
Louisiana as a whole has seen a growing immigrant presence, with more than 145,000 foreign-born noncitizens statewide in 2024 and an estimated 110,000 potentially undocumented immigrants in 2023, according to Pew Research Center. Yet, as Morrell noted, “The amount of violent crime attributed to illegal immigrants is negligible.”
Meanwhile, in Charlotte, North Carolina, a similar story unfolded. On November 15, 2025, DHS launched “Operation Charlotte’s Web,” targeting undocumented residents in Mecklenburg County and surrounding areas. Over the following days, more than 370 people were arrested, and videos began circulating online of masked federal agents detaining suspected undocumented individuals—sometimes emerging from unmarked cars in residential neighborhoods. The fear was palpable. “People are terrified, they’re angry, they’re hiding,” Susan Rodriguez-McDowell, a county commissioner, told Reuters. “They’re mad as hell that this happened in our community, and they want to know what the hell we are going to do about it.”
Community organizations like Siembra NC sprang into action, hosting training sessions for thousands of local residents on how to observe and report ICE activity. Activists patrolled neighborhoods, followed federal vehicles, and shared tips on social media to warn others. “It’s actually not totally out of our control to know where these guys [are] hunting people down,” Andrew Willis Garcés, a senior strategist with Siembra NC, told local media. “We can know that and we can also be much more in communication about what we see and where we see.”
After a tense week, the operation appeared to wind down earlier than expected. Mecklenburg County Sheriff Garry McFadden confirmed that Border Patrol had left his jurisdiction, and Charlotte Mayor Vi Lyles expressed relief. “I’m relieved for our community and the residents, businesses and all those who were targeted and impacted by this intrusion,” Lyles posted on X. “As we move forward, it is essential that we come together – not as separate groups divided by recent events, but as one Charlotte community.”
Yet the scars lingered. According to CBS, fewer than one third of those arrested in Charlotte were classified as criminals—roughly 90 out of nearly 300 immigration arrests made by approximately 200 Border Patrol agents. The economic fallout was immediate: Axios reported that businesses in east Charlotte experienced average daily losses of $2,500, with nearly half of surveyed businesses closing for at least three days. Greg Asciutto, executive director of CharlotteEast, estimated it could take a full fiscal quarter or more for the area’s business district to recover.
Not everyone was critical of the federal actions. North Carolina Republican Party spokesperson Matt Mercer called the operation a success, echoing support from other state Republicans. In Louisiana, U.S. House Speaker Mike Johnson took to social media to praise the crackdown, blaming “Democrats’ sanctuary city policies” for endangering American communities and declaring, “The people of our GREAT city deserve better, and help is now on the ground.”
But as the enforcement operations receded, Charlotte’s community sought healing and solidarity. In early December, the Luz de Navidad: Music of Spain and the Americas Christmas concert in Uptown Charlotte was reimagined as a benefit event for families impacted by the raids. “Music for us is all about [a] way to serve the community,” said Kristin Olson, artistic and executive director for 7th Street Concerts. The concert’s theme—retelling the story of Mary and Joseph as modern-day migrants—took on new resonance, with donations collected for local nonprofits supporting immigrant families.
“As an immigrant myself and somebody who worked with the Latino community for years, it is a difficult time,” said Banu Valladares, a performer at the concert. “People are fearful of being out to do normal things like buying food or working, not necessarily because there’s something wrong with them, but because of the climate that was created around the operation. So those families are experiencing some food insecurity.”
While federal agents may have left, the anxiety and disruption they brought remain. As communities in New Orleans, Charlotte, and beyond grapple with the aftershocks of these enforcement blitzes, the debate over immigration policy and its human cost is far from over. For now, neighbors are banding together, hoping that compassion and solidarity can help mend the divides left in the wake of crackdowns.
