Healthcare providers across Minneapolis are scrambling to deliver home visits and telehealth services as fear of federal immigration enforcement keeps residents from seeking medical care, raising alarms about a growing public health emergency.
Community leaders and health workers say people targeted by federal agents — often because of their skin color, accent or immigration status — are increasingly afraid to leave their homes, even for urgent or routine medical treatment. At the same time, some healthcare staff are also worried about their own safety at work.
“We’re seeing residents not wanting to leave their homes, not go to work, not go to their doctor appointments, not going to regularly scheduled checkups, postponing surgeries, postponing care,” said Angela Conley, Hennepin County commissioner for District 4, where Renee Good was killed by a federal agent earlier this month.
Residents report avoiding clinics and hospitals out of fear of being detained while traveling or intercepted in parking garages. Providers say pregnant patients are laboring at home, people with diabetes are rationing insulin, and injured or sick individuals are delaying emergency care.
“They are afraid of being pulled out of their car and taken to the Whipple building and sent on a flight to Texas — even legal permanent residents and U.S. citizens,” Conley said. “Everybody is afraid.”
Munira Maalimisaq, founder and CEO of the Inspire Change Clinic in Minneapolis, said fear has spread well beyond undocumented communities.
“Even people who are documented are not going to their doctor’s appointments. People who have their citizenship are not coming in,” she said. “It is a health issue. When people are too afraid to seek care, diseases worsen, emergencies increase and people die unnecessarily.”
Healthcare workers warn the situation poses both immediate and long-term dangers, including untreated chronic illness, worsening mental health, food insecurity and medical emergencies that could otherwise be prevented.
“If people aren’t getting their medications and they’re not getting their treatments, they will die,” said Mary Turner, president of National Nurses United and an ICU nurse in the Minneapolis area. “I dread the day when we start finding people dead in their homes because they were afraid to seek medical care.”
National Nurses United and other organizations have called for the abolition of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), accusing the agency of fueling fear and endangering lives.
“All they’ve become now is a violent, racist, lawless agency,” Turner said. “As a nursing organization, we’re saying: not one more penny goes to ICE.”
In response, community organizations, clinics and volunteers have rapidly expanded alternative care options. Providers are arranging home visits, telehealth appointments and prescription deliveries, while neighbors coordinate rides, grocery runs and diaper and formula pickups.
“We are working very diligently to make sure hospitals are as safe as possible and to amplify systems for alternative care like telehealth and home health,” said Erin Stevens, a Minneapolis physician and member of the Committee to Protect Health Care.
As patient no-shows mounted in December, Maalimisaq created a rapid response unit at her clinic. One of its first calls involved a nine-months-pregnant woman who was too afraid to go to the hospital. When Maalimisaq and an OB-GYN visited her home, they found she was already 8cm dilated.
“She was terrified they were going to take her away while she was in labor,” Maalimisaq said. After arranging a safe meeting point, the providers drove her to the hospital themselves, where she delivered safely.
Requests soon poured in from doctors across the city asking the rapid response team to check on patients, deliver medications and assess urgent cases. More than 150 volunteer providers — including emergency physicians, cardiologists and pediatricians — stepped forward.
“They’re treating wounds, giving medications, delivering food and sometimes just listening,” Maalimisaq said.
Officials continue urging residents to seek care when needed. “If you’re sick, please go to the hospital,” Conley said. “And if you can’t leave, we will come to you.”
After Good’s killing, Hennepin County and the city launched Operation Reconnect, a 24/7 public health response effort coordinating medical care, food distribution, transportation and mental health support during the crisis.
“It’s a public health crisis because people can’t access what they normally would — baby formula, mental health services, prescriptions,” Conley said.
Most hospital and clinic areas are considered private property, meaning federal agents generally need judicial warrants to enter. Hospital staff have received training on how to respond if agents appear.
“I want to be very clear: our hospital is a safe space where people who need emergency care can go get care,” Conley said.
The healthcare strain compounds the immediate dangers associated with enforcement operations, including tear gas, rubber bullets, vehicle crashes and live gunfire. Detainees have reported poor conditions and limited access to medical care. Last year, 32 people died in ICE custody.
Healthcare workers themselves are also fearful. The Department of Homeland Security is auditing at least one hospital’s employment records. At Turner’s hospital, staff at risk have left sealed envelopes with union representatives containing emergency contact information in case they disappear.
“If they suddenly don’t show up, their information is sealed somewhere safely,” Turner said.
Maalimisaq, who is Somali, said fear shadows her daily work, but she refuses to stop.
“I’ve never felt this vulnerable,” she said. “But there is no way I would ever sit back and do nothing. People’s lives depend on this.”
With many patients unable to speak up, Maalimisaq said healthcare providers are stepping forward.
“Healthcare must remain safe and accessible for everyone,” she said. “We will do anything it takes to make that happen.”