The rate of 911 calls made in Chicago has dropped precipitously in the two months since the start of Operation Midway Blitz, a Tribune review of city data found.
And nowhere is the decrease more pronounced than in Little Village, home to Chicago’s largest Mexican American population, where calls to 911 have fallen by more than 21% since the surge of federal immigration officers began, city data show.
Neighborhood leaders acknowledge a sharp year-over-year decline in crime, but note that the wave of immigration enforcement has left many residents in fear of calling 911 for help during that stretch.
The decline reflects more than just safer streets in Little Village, said Matt DeMateo, executive director of New Life Centers, a nonprofit serving youths and families in Little Village. It’s residents’ fear, fueled by federal immigration enforcement, that may be driving the decline.
“It’s less about trust in police, it’s more about fear,” DeMateo said. “ICE is creating chaos, and people are making decisions for their own safety.”
The federal government is feeding their narrative that “Chicago’s on fire, Chicago is a hellhole, Chicago’s not safe, or they’re coming to help us and clean up our mess,” DeMateo said. “That’s just frankly not true.”
While some residents perceive police as aligned with federal immigration enforcement, DeMateo said the Chicago Police Department has been supportive locally, including supporting students during a recent walkout.
Still, the intersection of local policing and federal enforcement has created a “gray area” for residents trying to navigate safety, perception and the law.
Drop in calls
In recent weeks, the neighborhood has been the setting of at least two immigration actions, and local students have staged walkouts in protest of federal agents’ repeated use of tear gas.
Since the start of 2025 through Oct. 27, the city has received roughly 100,000 calls to 911 — a 6% decline from 2024, according to data made public by the city’s Office of Inspector General.
However, between Sept. 1 and Oct. 27, 911 calls across the city are down 14% compared with the year before. Chicago’s violent crime has decreased regularly in recent years — certainly a reason for fewer 911 calls — and that remained the case before the incursion of federal immigration authorities.
Chicago police Superintendent Larry Snelling was asked in September if the incursion of federal immigration officers could hamper CPD’s community relations efforts, especially in Latino neighborhoods.
“We want anyone who’s in need of emergency services, a person who has been a victim of a crime, to call the Chicago Police Department, regardless of your status,” Snelling said in an interview with the Tribune. “We’re not going to ask your status, we’re not turning victims over to anyone. That’s not what we do. We’re there to show up, to find out who’s been victimized and who the offenders are, and we’re going to do everything that we can to try to keep that person safe, or those people safe, and to take any (persons) into custody who have offended in a way.”
CPD’s Ogden District, which covers Little Village and neighboring North Lawndale, has seen a drastic decrease in violent crime — outpacing the rest of the city, in fact — throughout 2025. According to the Police Department, the district has recorded 23 homicides through late October, a 45% decline from the previous year. Robberies are down by more than 50%, and overall shooting incidents also have fallen by 48%.
Adding to troubles
Community leaders and longtime residents say the decline in emergency calls is a warning that fear and mistrust are silencing a neighborhood that was already struggling with violence, domestic abuse and trauma.
For many, the fear isn’t of crime itself — it’s of who might show up when they call for help, said Dolores Castañeda, a longtime community activist who works with grieving mothers, domestic violence survivors and undocumented families.
Residents of Little Village and throughout the city’s Southwest Side “are feeling more unsafe than ever before,” Castañeda said.
“What I’ve seen and what people say is that they don’t really want to call the police because they associate the police with ICE,” Castañeda said. “Even at the march we had on Saturday, (community members) were talking about everything the police do to say they’re protecting people, but under the table, the people see how they protect federal agents during confrontations.”
That fear runs deep in the predominantly Latino neighborhood, home to many mixed-status families. When immigration enforcement agents are seen alongside police, or even perceived to be, it sends a chilling message.
“At protests, people see that the police protect the agents,” Castañeda said. “So if there’s domestic violence or something happening at home, they’re even less likely to report it because they know that person and their family could be deported.”
“Maybe there isn’t as much violence visible in the streets, but now it’s happening inside the home,” Castañeda added. “If someone is attacked or robbed, they won’t report it out of fear that their information will be shared.”
Reporting domestic violence
For many survivors of domestic and sexual violence in the U.S. without legal permission, reporting crimes to police often feels like a “big risk,” said Gwendolyn Tinajero-Belles, a clinical program coordinator at YWCA Metropolitan Chicago. Many victims worry that if they say something they’ll find themselves at risk of deportation, she said.
Tinajero-Belles, who provides trauma counseling to people in Cook and DuPage counties, said these fears have only grown more pronounced as immigration enforcement picked up in the area, even at the county domestic violence court. Around half of her clients are immigrants, and she said those who are noncitizens have largely moved their appointments online or canceled.
“I’m scared to go outside, to go to the grocery store, I’m scared to go to work, I’m just scared to go out,” Tinajero-Belles said of her clients’ fears. “Being in isolation a lot of the times can be very similar to what they were experiencing when they were going through those traumas of sexual abuse or domestic violence.”
Her clients who are mothers are especially fearful about what will happen to their children if they report abuse, Tinajero-Belles said.
“It’s like ‘What’s going to happen to my children if I get reported or I get detained?’” she said. “They (tell) me, ‘My children are terrified, my children are scared. What if this is the last time we see each other?’”
ICE also rescinded a policy in January that directed agents to generally avoid detaining and deporting immigrants who were victims of violent crimes or those going through the lengthy application process for visas that allowed some victims to remain in the country. These changes further increased Tinajero-Belles’ concerns that fewer people will report, she said.
“Before, having those protections, I think they felt a little safe. Like, ‘I’m going to risk it and hopefully it turns out well, even though it’s a long wait time too,’” Tinajero-Belles said. “Now, without the protection, my fear is that not a lot of people are going to want to report because, I think … (victims) would rather just not put themselves out there and just maybe hide like a lot of people are doing, hiding at home.”
A federal lawsuit filed last month by immigrant rights groups and crime victims in the U.S. District Court for the Central District of California argues that these policy changes are violating laws “designed to shield vulnerable adults and children from harm.” It cites the sharp decline this year in applications for U visas, which cover domestic violence and sexual assault victims, among other crimes.
“Now, because of this administration’s unlawful actions, immigrants are not reporting violent crimes, including domestic violence, rape, trafficking and assault, out of fear of being turned over to the deportation machine,” said Rebecca Brown, a supervising attorney in Public Counsel’s Immigrants’ Rights Project. “Worse still, survivors are being separated from their families — and in some cases being sent straight back to their abusers.”
Baltazar Enriquez, president of the Little Village Community Council, said the mistrust reached new levels after residents saw videos circulating online that appeared to show ICE agents and Chicago police working together during a recent clash between agents and neighborhood residents.
“The people don’t trust the police more than ever,” Enriquez said.
Community groups have been pushing for the expansion of the Ogden District Coordination Officer program, which partners officers with neighborhood organizations and the University of Illinois Chicago to build trust and respond to low-level incidents.
“It’s more effective because they’re more empathetic and you can call them for minor stuff,” Enriquez said. “But when they move good officers away from the neighborhood … people feel abandoned again.”