How severely will Trump's immigration raids impact red states?
Agriculture in Kristi Noem’s home state has flourished, aided by relaxed regulatory enforcement.
TroibNews 
**VEBLEN, South Dakota** — A narrative of a flourishing dairy industry and a fractured immigration system unfolds behind the weary expressions of workers entering and exiting a dairy farm dormitory in Kristi Noem’s state. This situation illustrates the precarious balancing act facing the Trump administration as it seeks to forcibly deport 12 million undocumented immigrants.
During her tenure as governor from 2019 to 2025, Noem fostered the growth of South Dakota’s dairy farms, which now generate $7.2 billion annually and have seen a 70 percent increase in dairy cow population since she took office. However, the expansion of this sector heavily relies on state and federal officials overlooking the immigration status of the farm workers who maintain the demanding milking schedules.
Now serving as Homeland Security secretary, Noem is pivotal in crafting President Donald Trump’s mass deportation plans, placing her and her state at the epicenter of a heated debate that has reached a critical juncture. To deport all 12 million undocumented individuals, the Trump administration will need to execute nationwide raids, potentially disrupting communities and economies in red states, home to over 40 percent of undocumented immigrants.
The political stakes are high. While it may be politically advantageous for Noem to appear tough on immigration in urban areas like New York City or Arlington, Virginia — cities that Trump supporters often criticize — the consequences of disrupting the rural economies where Trump found significant backing present a different challenge.
At the dairy farm in Veblen, workers keep the milking operations running 24/7 to adhere to demanding schedules. Bales of hay line the farm entrance, protected from the elements, while thousands of cows can be observed in their stalls awaiting the next milking session. The facility features a cow carousel and parallel milking parlors to enhance operational efficiency.
Farmers have made efforts to ensure their workers are legally documented, but this is not foolproof, as noted by Walt Bones, a retired fourth-generation farmer and co-owner of Turner County Dairy. During his term as agriculture secretary, DHS conducted an audit that revealed ten employees had falsified documentation, forcing Bones to terminate long-standing employees — an outcome that could spell disaster for the state's dairy sector if replicated across farms.
“The focus now is bad actors — the folks with criminal records who are here and committing crimes and are not stellar citizens and who are not contributing to society,” Bones said. “My hope is that, let’s focus on those folks, and in the meantime, let’s try to get some policies in place so that we can keep our good people here who are contributing.”
During Noem’s governorship, her administration promoted a “thriving industry” and declared the state “open for business.” Local residents feel that she overlooked the immigration challenges that grew alongside that expansion. Kathy Tyler, a former Democratic state legislator, remarked that her presence as DHS secretary would acknowledge ignored realities and risk destabilizing a vital industry in her state.
“It would be a political disaster if she did,” Tyler said.
Neither the White House nor DHS responded to requests for comments.
The complexities of this situation are not lost on South Dakota's farmers, many of whom think they might evade Trump’s focus, believing he wouldn’t jeopardize crucial businesses. Others associated with the industry hope Washington might finally propose reforms to the outdated legal immigration system that could aid the sector. Data from the National Agricultural Workers Survey indicates that around 70 percent of farmworkers in the U.S. hail from Mexico or Central America, with an estimated 44 percent lacking legal status.
“If it were not for these foreign workers, we wouldn’t have the strong dairy farm community we have in rural America and the cost and source of milk would be uncertain,” said Jaime Castaneda, executive vice president for policy and strategy at the National Milk Producers Federation.
While farmers await federal action, the challenges of immigration policy have surfaced in these communities, highlighting issues related to a broken system, potential economic fallout from mass deportation agendas, discussions around migrant crime, and the politics surrounding immigration in Red America that have supported Trump’s movement for years.
Allison Pankow and Lindsey Krump, who voted for Trump, do not believe his deportation policy will impact the Dakotas. The sisters reflect as they enjoy drinks with family friends.
“They’re not going to do it,” Krump asserted. “We’re little piddly wigs here.”
“I would hope that Kristi Noem says, ‘Yeah, I have a real problem in my state, and I need to step up and do something,’” Pankow expressed. “That’s what I would hope. Is she going to? I don’t know.”
Such discussions pervade the state, where residents, regardless of party affiliation, see their communities as distant from the impacts of enforcement actions in places like California or urban centers like Denver. Still, others believe the president will be resistant to alienating industry leaders and farmers, particularly in a state that significantly supported him.
However, there is a palpable frustration in the sisters’ dialogue. Pankow recounts a traumatic event on May 28, 2022, when she was volunteering as an EMT. An accident involving a pickup and two motorcyclists left her best friend, Amber Volesky, dead and her husband, Corey Volesky, critically injured, later dying in Pankow's arms.
The driver, Roberto Corona Eguiza, fled the scene but was apprehended, alongside his accomplice, Eugenio Pecina. Both were employees at local dairies, and Pecina pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge. Eguiza has been charged with felonies but disappeared after attending initial court hearings. Local officials were uncertain about his immigration status, but speculation in the community suggested he was undocumented.
While data suggests undocumented immigrants commit fewer crimes than citizens or legal residents, such statistics are ignored by those grappling with grief.
Krump recalls driving past the memorial site and the enduring memories tied to that tragic day.
“We want justice for ourselves, our relatives, our friends and our community — but we doubt we will get it,” Pankow said.
The fear of inaction is not the only anxiety felt throughout South Dakota.
At Rosalie’s restaurant in Sisseton, Tyler discusses these issues with Steve McCleery, a former fellow legislator and dairy farmer. While McCleery doubts the Trump administration would conduct raids in dairies, he acknowledges a growing sense of unease among immigrants.
Tyler has encountered students who express fear for their parents, with one pupil tearfully sharing family contingency plans should parents be deported.
Despite reports of increased ICE activity in the area, Taneeza Islam, CEO of South Dakota Voices for Peace, states that arrests have been minimal and targeted. They have received calls from concerned clients, including those with U.S. citizen children, asking about the safety of their kids attending school or their own safety in going to work.
“It doesn’t even matter what’s actually happening or actually being done, because this fear is so pervasive,” Islam noted.
The anxiety is felt keenly by Carlos, who came from Guatemala over a decade ago on a temporary visa for seasonal agricultural work and remained after it expired, building a life in the U.S. PMG has chosen not to reveal his last name to protect his privacy. He feels relatively secure in a rural setting but remains conscious of the looming threat of deportation, especially now that he has settled his family in the U.S.
He observes subtle changes in the community, noting the local Walmart’s quieter shopping days, which used to be bustling with fellow immigrants.
It serves as a stark reminder that his status could change.
“I know how I am here. So I know that someday, bad times, something will happen,” he said. “I am conscious about it.”
Sophie Wagner contributed to this report for TROIB News
During her tenure as governor from 2019 to 2025, Noem fostered the growth of South Dakota’s dairy farms, which now generate $7.2 billion annually and have seen a 70 percent increase in dairy cow population since she took office. However, the expansion of this sector heavily relies on state and federal officials overlooking the immigration status of the farm workers who maintain the demanding milking schedules.
Now serving as Homeland Security secretary, Noem is pivotal in crafting President Donald Trump’s mass deportation plans, placing her and her state at the epicenter of a heated debate that has reached a critical juncture. To deport all 12 million undocumented individuals, the Trump administration will need to execute nationwide raids, potentially disrupting communities and economies in red states, home to over 40 percent of undocumented immigrants.
The political stakes are high. While it may be politically advantageous for Noem to appear tough on immigration in urban areas like New York City or Arlington, Virginia — cities that Trump supporters often criticize — the consequences of disrupting the rural economies where Trump found significant backing present a different challenge.
At the dairy farm in Veblen, workers keep the milking operations running 24/7 to adhere to demanding schedules. Bales of hay line the farm entrance, protected from the elements, while thousands of cows can be observed in their stalls awaiting the next milking session. The facility features a cow carousel and parallel milking parlors to enhance operational efficiency.
Farmers have made efforts to ensure their workers are legally documented, but this is not foolproof, as noted by Walt Bones, a retired fourth-generation farmer and co-owner of Turner County Dairy. During his term as agriculture secretary, DHS conducted an audit that revealed ten employees had falsified documentation, forcing Bones to terminate long-standing employees — an outcome that could spell disaster for the state's dairy sector if replicated across farms.
“The focus now is bad actors — the folks with criminal records who are here and committing crimes and are not stellar citizens and who are not contributing to society,” Bones said. “My hope is that, let’s focus on those folks, and in the meantime, let’s try to get some policies in place so that we can keep our good people here who are contributing.”
During Noem’s governorship, her administration promoted a “thriving industry” and declared the state “open for business.” Local residents feel that she overlooked the immigration challenges that grew alongside that expansion. Kathy Tyler, a former Democratic state legislator, remarked that her presence as DHS secretary would acknowledge ignored realities and risk destabilizing a vital industry in her state.
“It would be a political disaster if she did,” Tyler said.
Neither the White House nor DHS responded to requests for comments.
The complexities of this situation are not lost on South Dakota's farmers, many of whom think they might evade Trump’s focus, believing he wouldn’t jeopardize crucial businesses. Others associated with the industry hope Washington might finally propose reforms to the outdated legal immigration system that could aid the sector. Data from the National Agricultural Workers Survey indicates that around 70 percent of farmworkers in the U.S. hail from Mexico or Central America, with an estimated 44 percent lacking legal status.
“If it were not for these foreign workers, we wouldn’t have the strong dairy farm community we have in rural America and the cost and source of milk would be uncertain,” said Jaime Castaneda, executive vice president for policy and strategy at the National Milk Producers Federation.
While farmers await federal action, the challenges of immigration policy have surfaced in these communities, highlighting issues related to a broken system, potential economic fallout from mass deportation agendas, discussions around migrant crime, and the politics surrounding immigration in Red America that have supported Trump’s movement for years.
Allison Pankow and Lindsey Krump, who voted for Trump, do not believe his deportation policy will impact the Dakotas. The sisters reflect as they enjoy drinks with family friends.
“They’re not going to do it,” Krump asserted. “We’re little piddly wigs here.”
“I would hope that Kristi Noem says, ‘Yeah, I have a real problem in my state, and I need to step up and do something,’” Pankow expressed. “That’s what I would hope. Is she going to? I don’t know.”
Such discussions pervade the state, where residents, regardless of party affiliation, see their communities as distant from the impacts of enforcement actions in places like California or urban centers like Denver. Still, others believe the president will be resistant to alienating industry leaders and farmers, particularly in a state that significantly supported him.
However, there is a palpable frustration in the sisters’ dialogue. Pankow recounts a traumatic event on May 28, 2022, when she was volunteering as an EMT. An accident involving a pickup and two motorcyclists left her best friend, Amber Volesky, dead and her husband, Corey Volesky, critically injured, later dying in Pankow's arms.
The driver, Roberto Corona Eguiza, fled the scene but was apprehended, alongside his accomplice, Eugenio Pecina. Both were employees at local dairies, and Pecina pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge. Eguiza has been charged with felonies but disappeared after attending initial court hearings. Local officials were uncertain about his immigration status, but speculation in the community suggested he was undocumented.
While data suggests undocumented immigrants commit fewer crimes than citizens or legal residents, such statistics are ignored by those grappling with grief.
Krump recalls driving past the memorial site and the enduring memories tied to that tragic day.
“We want justice for ourselves, our relatives, our friends and our community — but we doubt we will get it,” Pankow said.
The fear of inaction is not the only anxiety felt throughout South Dakota.
At Rosalie’s restaurant in Sisseton, Tyler discusses these issues with Steve McCleery, a former fellow legislator and dairy farmer. While McCleery doubts the Trump administration would conduct raids in dairies, he acknowledges a growing sense of unease among immigrants.
Tyler has encountered students who express fear for their parents, with one pupil tearfully sharing family contingency plans should parents be deported.
Despite reports of increased ICE activity in the area, Taneeza Islam, CEO of South Dakota Voices for Peace, states that arrests have been minimal and targeted. They have received calls from concerned clients, including those with U.S. citizen children, asking about the safety of their kids attending school or their own safety in going to work.
“It doesn’t even matter what’s actually happening or actually being done, because this fear is so pervasive,” Islam noted.
The anxiety is felt keenly by Carlos, who came from Guatemala over a decade ago on a temporary visa for seasonal agricultural work and remained after it expired, building a life in the U.S. PMG has chosen not to reveal his last name to protect his privacy. He feels relatively secure in a rural setting but remains conscious of the looming threat of deportation, especially now that he has settled his family in the U.S.
He observes subtle changes in the community, noting the local Walmart’s quieter shopping days, which used to be bustling with fellow immigrants.
It serves as a stark reminder that his status could change.
“I know how I am here. So I know that someday, bad times, something will happen,” he said. “I am conscious about it.”
Sophie Wagner contributed to this report for TROIB News
