Ilhan Omar Claims ICE Pulled Over Her Son As Agents Arrest Hundreds In MN
Democratic Representative Ilhan Omar from Minnesota reported that federal immigration agents stopped her son on Saturday and requested proof of his citizenship. She added that her son “always carries” his passport with him when he is out and about.
Omar mentioned that ICE had previously entered a mosque while her son and others were praying, but they left without any incidents, CBS News reported.
“Yesterday, after he made a stop at Target, he did get pulled over by [U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement] agents, and once he was able to produce his passport ID, they did let him go,” Omar said in an interview with Esme Murphy on WCCO Sunday Morning.
After that, she said she “had to remind him just how worried I am, because all of these areas that they are talking about are areas where he could possibly find himself in and they are racially profiling, they are looking for young men who look Somali that they think are undocumented.”Earlier this month, federal immigration agents increased their presence in the Twin Cities region of Minneapolis and St. Paul to target undocumented Somali immigrants.
More than 400 illegal immigrants have been arrested in Minnesota as part of an Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) initiative known as Operation Metro Surge, the Department of Homeland Security said in a statement on Friday, per The Epoch Times.
According to DHS, the operation focused on individuals with serious criminal records. The agency said the enforcement effort targeted people it described as posing significant public safety risks.
The arrests took place amid broader debate over so-called sanctuary policies, which refer to state or local practices that limit cooperation with federal immigration authorities. Minnesota is considered a sanctuary jurisdiction under the criteria outlined by the Department of Justice in an Aug. 5 statement.
DHS said those arrested included a Burmese national convicted of third-degree criminal sexual conduct involving force or coercion, a Somali national convicted of robbery, a Laotian national convicted of first-degree criminal sexual conduct involving a child under 13, and an Ecuadorian national previously arrested for assaulting a police officer.
In a statement, DHS Assistant Secretary for Public Affairs Tricia McLaughlin criticized Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz and Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey, both of whom have opposed ICE enforcement actions, saying their positions have failed to adequately protect residents of the state.
“They let these monsters and child predators roam free,” McLaughlin said. “Thanks to our brave law enforcement, Minnesota is safer with these thugs off their streets.”
The arrests come as immigration enforcement officers continue to face a surge in attacks nationwide.
On Dec. 12, DHS said an ICE officer was attacked by a criminal illegal immigrant in Tullos, Louisiana, who “savagely bit the officer’s hand while resisting arrest.”
Meanwhile, Omar announced that she has launched two formal congressional inquiries into recent immigration enforcement actions by the Trump administration affecting Somali communities in Minnesota and nationwide.
In a letter to Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, Omar requested information about Operation Metro Surge, an Immigration and Customs Enforcement deployment in the Twin Cities area. Omar alleged that the operation has involved racial profiling, the detention of U.S. citizens, the use of excessive force, and violations of constitutional rights.
Omar’s letter cited reported incidents in which individuals who said they were U.S. citizens were detained by ICE agents, a woman wearing a hijab was mocked, pepper spray was used on bystanders, and agents carried out arrests near homes, schools, and a university campus without presenting warrants.
The New York Times reported that roughly 100 ICE agents were deployed to Minnesota as part of the operation.
In a separate letter to Noem, Omar, and several other members of Congress, also sought an explanation for the administration’s consideration of ending Temporary Protected Status for Somali nationals living in the United States.
On my birthday, my sister smashed the cake straight into my face, laughing as she watched me fall backward, blood mixing with the frosting. Everyone said, “It’s just a joke.” But the next mo
On my birthday, my sister smashed the cake straight into my face, laughing as she watched me fall backward, blood mixing with the frosting. Everyone said, “It’s just a joke.”
But the next morning in the emergency room, the doctor studied my X-ray and immediately called 911—because what he saw… exposed a horrifying truth.
Part One: “It’s Just a Joke”
On my birthday, the room smelled like sugar and candles and cheap champagne. A pink cake sat in the center of the table, my name written across it in looping frosting. Everyone was laughing. Phones were out. Someone shouted for me to make a wish.
My sister stood closest to me.
She grinned, eyes bright with something that wasn’t kindness. Before I could even lean forward, her hands slammed the cake straight into my face.
The impact was harder than anyone expected.
I felt myself stumble backward, my heel catching on the rug. There was a sharp crack as my head hit the edge of the table, then the floor. For a split second, the room spun in white and pink. I tasted sugar—and then iron.
Blood mixed with frosting, dripping down my chin.
People screamed, then laughed nervously.
“Oh my God,” someone said, still chuckling. “It’s just a joke!”
My sister laughed the loudest. “Relax! You’re so dramatic.”
I tried to sit up. Pain exploded behind my eyes. My vision blurred, and the ceiling swayed like it was floating. Someone wiped my face with a napkin, smearing blood across my cheek.
“You’re fine,” my mother said quickly. “Don’t ruin the mood.”
I remember thinking how strange it was that my ears were ringing louder than the music.
I remember the taste of frosting as I swallowed blood.
I remember waking up hours later in my bed, alone, my head throbbing, my phone full of messages telling me not to be “too sensitive.”
By morning, I couldn’t lift my arm.
Part Two: The X-Ray That Changed Everything
The emergency room smelled like disinfectant and sleepless nights. The doctor asked how it happened. I hesitated, then said quietly, “I fell.”
He nodded, unconvinced, and ordered X-rays “just to be safe.”
I lay on the cold table staring at the ceiling, replaying the laughter over and over in my head. It’s just a joke. That sentence hurt almost as much as my skull.
When the doctor returned, he wasn’t smiling.
He stared at the image on the screen for a long time. Too long.
Then he left the room without a word.
Minutes later, he came back—with a nurse, a security officer, and his phone pressed to his ear.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I need emergency services. Immediately.”
My heart started pounding. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
He turned to me, his voice careful. “This isn’t a simple fall.”
He pointed to the X-ray. Even I could see it—fine fractures branching like cracks in glass, not just in my skull, but along my collarbone and ribs. Old fractures. Healed wrong. Layered.
“These injuries happened at different times,” he said gently. “Some weeks apart. Some months.”
I stared at the screen, my mouth dry.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
He met my eyes. “This pattern isn’t accidental. And the impact that brought you in today could have killed you.”
The word killed echoed in my ears.
“Who did this to you?” he asked softly.
I thought of my sister’s grin. My parents’ laughter. All the times I’d been shoved, tripped, “joked” into walls. All the times I’d been told I was clumsy. Sensitive. Overreacting.
My hands began to shake.
“I think…” My voice broke. “I think it was never a joke.”
Part Three: When Laughter Turns Into Sirens
The police arrived quietly. Calmly. Like this wasn’t the first time they’d seen something like me.
They didn’t accuse. They asked questions.
Who was there last night?
Who pushed you?
How often do you get hurt?
For the first time, I didn’t minimize. I didn’t protect anyone. I told the truth.
By evening, my phone was exploding.
My mother crying.
My father furious.
My sister screaming that I had “ruined everything.”
“You’re exaggerating!” she yelled over voicemail. “It was cake! Everyone saw it!”
Everyone had seen it.
That was the horrifying truth.
Everyone had seen it—and laughed.
The investigation didn’t take long. Videos surfaced. Old medical records were reviewed. Witnesses contradicted themselves. Patterns became impossible to ignore.
What started as a “birthday prank” became an assault case.
What they called humor was documented as violence.
I was moved to a different room that night, monitored closely, safe for the first time in years. As I lay there, ice wrapped around my head, I realized something terrifying and freeing all at once:
If that cake hadn’t been smashed into my face…
If I hadn’t fallen just right…
The truth might have stayed buried forever.
Sometimes it takes breaking something visible to expose what’s been shattered for years.
