On January 7, 2026, the city of Minneapolis was thrust into the national spotlight after a fatal shooting involving federal immigration enforcement agents left 37-year-old Renee Nicole Good dead. Good, a mother of three who had only recently moved to the city, was killed by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent Jonathan Ross amid a sweeping immigration crackdown in the Twin Cities metro area. The event, already fraught with tension, quickly spiraled into a major controversy as bystander videos contradicted the Trump administration’s narrative and sparked widespread protests, school closures, and heated political debate.
The initial federal account, as relayed by the Trump administration and echoed by Vice President JD Vance, described Good’s actions as an “act of domestic terrorism,” claiming she drove her vehicle at the agent. However, according to video footage analyzed by The New York Times, the reality was starkly different. The videos, captured from three distinct vantage points, showed Good’s car turning away from Ross at the moment he fired the fatal shots. This discrepancy fueled immediate outrage and suspicion about the official version of events.
Community anger was palpable. Within hours of the shooting, makeshift barricades—trash cans and wooden pallets—blocked the street where Good was killed, while a growing memorial paid tribute to her life. Hundreds gathered for a vigil that evening, honoring Good, whom city leaders and two federal sources confirmed was a U.S. citizen and a legal observer of federal actions in Minneapolis. She was not the target of an ICE-related arrest, a fact that only deepened the sense of injustice among her supporters.
The shooting also set off a cascade of related incidents across the city. Just hours after Good’s death and only 2.5 miles away, federal agents—ICE and Customs and Border Protection—descended on Roosevelt High School as classes let out. According to eyewitness Cara Morrow, agents in unmarked SUVs tackled people on school grounds, hitting some after they were already subdued and deploying chemical irritants. “Like, I can’t believe this is happening at a high school. Where people are just here trying to learn,” said Daniel, a former Roosevelt student who filmed part of the incident. His friend Braeden, a current student, added, “I want ICE to go away.” The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) insisted no tear gas was used, claiming instead that “targeted crowd control” measures were deployed, but did not specify what those entailed.
The presence of federal agents at the school left students, parents, and teachers shaken. “My whole family doesn’t feel safe at home anymore,” Daniel said. Melissa Lock, a Roosevelt parent, voiced her heartbreak: “I never thought we would live in a time like this. That’s what goes through my head. And it makes me really, really sad for our kids.” Former Minnesota governor Jesse Ventura visited the school to show his support, declaring, “I’m proud of them for what they did. They made me proud as an alumni.” Ventura, a 1969 Roosevelt graduate, didn’t mince words about the Trump administration’s tactics: “Minnesota, we’ll take care of ourselves. We don’t need federal troops coming in here without warrants.”
The fallout from these events was swift and far-reaching. Minneapolis Public Schools canceled all classes and district-sponsored activities for the remainder of the week “out of an abundance of caution,” and clarified that students would not switch to online learning, as that option was reserved for severe weather. Meanwhile, businesses in the Uptown area, including an AT&T store, boarded up their storefronts in anticipation of possible unrest, hearkening back to the tumult following George Floyd’s murder in 2020.
Political leaders scrambled to respond. Governor Tim Walz strongly condemned attempts to “slander” Good’s character and criticized the FBI’s decision to exclude the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension (BCA) from the shooting investigation. “Minnesota must be part of this investigation,” Walz insisted at a press conference, expressing concern that the state would not receive a fair or transparent outcome without local involvement. Hennepin County Attorney Mary Moriarty echoed these concerns, stating her office was “exploring all options to ensure a state level investigation can continue” after the FBI sidelined the BCA. “If the FBI is the sole investigative agency, the State will not receive the investigative findings, and our community may never learn about its contents,” Moriarty warned.
Meanwhile, the political divide deepened. On social media, Minnesota Sen. Tina Smith called out Rep. Pete Stauber for what she termed misleading statements about Governor Walz’s decision to stage the National Guard as a precaution. Stauber had implied the move was tantamount to preparing for a civil war against the federal government—a claim Smith dismissed as “spreading misinformation/fear.” Walz clarified that the Guard was on standby solely to support law enforcement and maintain public safety if unrest erupted, not to confront federal agents.
As protests intensified, federal authorities ramped up their presence in the city. ICE and Customs and Border Protection agents arrested two men—both of whom claimed U.S. citizenship—at a Target store in Richfield. In Northeast Minneapolis, two legal observers were detained during an ICE operation, prompting City Council President Elliott Payne and State Senator Doron Clark to urge community members to “show up for each other in this moment.”
The situation escalated further on January 8, when hundreds of protesters marched on the Bishop Henry Whipple Federal Building at Fort Snelling, the hub of federal immigration operations in the Twin Cities. The face-off between demonstrators and masked, armed federal agents was mostly peaceful, though tear gas was reportedly deployed twice. The Minnesota Department of Transportation even blocked highway exits to the building to control access as tensions mounted.
Amid the chaos, the Minnesota Star Tribune issued a warning about a “coordinated online disinformation campaign” wrongly identifying the ICE agent involved in Good’s shooting. The newspaper, citing a law enforcement source, confirmed the shooter as Jonathan Ross, and noted that Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem said Ross had previously “been dragged by a vehicle” in an unrelated incident in 2025. Still, the Star Tribune emphasized that the agent had “no known affiliation” with the newspaper, seeking to dispel rumors circulating online.
As the dust settled—at least temporarily—the Racial Justice Network announced an emergency press conference to address the community’s concerns and demand accountability. The push for transparency and justice was echoed by many, including Governor Walz, who lamented, “This relentless assault on Minnesota—for whatever reason—is just cruel now. It has reached cruelness. So, please, just give us a break. And if it’s me, you’re already getting what you want. But leave my people alone. Leave our state alone.”
The events in Minneapolis this week have left the city—and the nation—grappling with questions about federal power, community safety, and the meaning of justice. As investigations continue and calls for accountability grow louder, Minnesotans find themselves at the center of a national reckoning over immigration, law enforcement, and the right to protest.
