On a cold February morning, Arnuel Marquez Colmenarez walked into a Nashua courthouse to settle a misdemeanor. Minutes later, he was tackled by federal agents in the lobby and hauled away in front of stunned onlookers. One elderly man using a cane was knocked over in the scuffle. There was no warning, no explanation, and no warrant presented.
“Even people with valid asylum claims, work permits, or jobs are very frightened.” — Sarah Jane Knoy, Granite State Organizing Project
The arrest—recorded on surveillance footage and shared in grainy clips across social media—reverberated far beyond the courthouse walls. It marked a turning point. Not because it was the first such action in New Hampshire, but because it confirmed what many had feared: nowhere is safe.
That sense of insecurity has spread quickly. New Hampshire wasn’t supposed to be a frontline. It’s not Boston. It’s not the border. But immigration enforcement here has grown quieter and more brazen all at once—unannounced visits to restaurants, raids without warrants, courthouse detentions mid-arraignment.
In Concord, agents walked into a popular Mexican restaurant and took two workers off the line during a Friday lunch rush. No charges. No accusations. Just gone.
“I live in a state that has a slogan: ‘Live Free or Die.’ We’re seeing this kind of approach that is undermining that.”
That’s from a Peterborough business owner, one of many who watched as four employees at Mi Jalisco were pulled out of kitchens and off registers this winter. The co-owner, Genaro Quezada, said simply: “We’re working people. Everything is legal.” The raid forced a temporary closure and left regulars rattled.
Even children have been caught in the wake. One 8-year-old boy saw the arrest from the parking lot. His grandmother, Naomi Kroposky-Zyck, said he’s now afraid his school friends might “disappear.”
What’s happening isn’t about criminality. It’s about visibility. Even people with asylum claims, Temporary Protected Status, or green card applications are being detained.
Yolanda, a Randolph mother of two, begged for her diabetic husband’s release after he was held ten days without medication.