In Minneapolis, a family of ten faced a frightening ordeal when federal immigration agents arrived late at night to detain their mother, Melida Rita Wampash Tuntuam, an Indigenous Ecuadorian office cleaner with no criminal record aside from minor traffic violations. Detained in early January for entering the United States illegally, her absence left her children fearful that they too might be targeted. The eldest son, aged 20, anxious about his siblings' welfare, acted swiftly to relocate the younger children—ranging in age down to a 5-month-old infant—into a safer environment after the immigration agents’ unexpected visit.
Out of concern that additional family members might face deportation, the eldest son spoke anonymously, describing the distress and fear that permeated the household. "The immigration agents were knocking on our door very late at night, and that’s when I became afraid," he said. Fearing separation from their mother and the possibility of losing custody of their younger siblings to government agencies, the children sought assistance from Feliza Martinez, a friend from their church community.
Martinez, compelled by the family’s plight, coordinated with a network of volunteers in Minneapolis to move the children quietly to a secure home in the city's southern area. This assistance is part of a broader grassroots response, as many Twin Cities residents have been galvanized by word of mouth to aid immigrants subjected to heightened federal enforcement tactics. These tactics include door-breaking raids without warrants and confrontations with protesters, practices which have intensified since the Trump administration's immigration crackdown.
As more than 2,000 federal agents actively search the Minneapolis-St. Paul area for immigrants subject to detention, with over 3,000 arrests reported by the Department of Homeland Security since early December, local communities are responding not only with protests but also by organizing efforts to monitor enforcement activities and support affected families through less visible channels.
These community support systems encompass financial aid such as rent payments for families whose primary earners are paralyzed by fear of detention; provision of home-cooked meals; and establishment of regular check-ins alongside emergency custody plans to ensure children’s care during parental absences. Among these initiatives, Christian nonprofit Source MN has expanded its food bank operations significantly to meet the needs of sheltering immigrants and their families.
Martinez, who takes time off her factory assembly line job to volunteer with Source MN, shared the emotional weight of her work. "I do receive calls every single day from families and they’re terrified, and we’re just trying to help them as much as we can," she said. As a mother of five, she is motivated to offer hope and reassurance to families confronting uncertainty.
On a snowy day, the Wampash Tuntuam siblings arrived at the safe house, greeted by a stream of visitors bearing supplies such as snacks, baby items, and activities for the children. Volunteers assembled bunk beds and made the home comfortable. While the younger children quickly adjusted, engaging in play and snacks, the older siblings remained anxious about their living situation.
The family recounted how their mother had provided the address of their rental home to Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officials, who claimed they would dispatch a social worker for the young children. Instead, armed and masked immigration agents appeared twice, surrounding the house—an experience that shattered trust and heightened fears.
Recalling these events, the 22-year-old daughter expressed dread over the potential for separation and deportation, noting that she and three family members face final orders of removal while younger siblings pursue legal status. Two of the children are U.S. citizens. Martinez, who initially supported President Donald Trump in past elections due to his stances on abortion and youth gender-affirming care, described how witnessing the federal agents' aggressive approaches against her neighbors and the impact on children shifted her perspective dramatically. "Being on the front line and what I have experienced and seen, I wish I would’ve never voted for him," Martinez stated, adding that the current enforcement actions conflict with her Christian beliefs.
A Department of Homeland Security spokesperson clarified ICE's position, stating that the agency does not separate families and offers parents choices regarding their children's placement during removals. The spokesperson noted that Wampash Tuntuam entered the U.S. illegally in 2022 through Texas, received a final order of removal, and has undergone due process under immigration law.
The mother of the family had reportedly been planning to self-deport but was preparing legal custody documents for her infant son before her detention. The older children fear that deportation would force them all into homelessness in their Ecuadorian Amazon hometown—a situation they struggled in prior to migrating to the U.S.
Currently, the children face an uncertain future. The 22-year-old daughter worries about the possibility that if authorities discover her baby brother alone, he may be taken away. Having been raised together closely, the siblings share deep bonds that intensify their fear of permanent separation.
After their mother's detention, the 20-year-old son left his restaurant job to care for the younger children. He grapples with the challenges of infant care, including transitioning his baby brother from breastfeeding to formula and managing the child's unsettled sleep pattern without the mother’s presence. Despite initially viewing Minneapolis as a city full of opportunities for immigrants, he now sees the situation through a lens of fear balanced by gratitude for the volunteers aiding his family. The younger children repeatedly ask when their mother will return, and he soothes them by assuring them she is at the hospital and will come back soon—hoping to preserve their sense of security and hope.