Trump Retreats in Minnesota as Border Patrol Chief Gets Axed After Fatal Shootings

Two dead American citizens later, Donald Trump is finally trying to clean up the mess in Minnesota. After weeks of defying state and local authorities, the president struck a conciliatory tone Monday in a phone call with Governor Tim Walz, while quietly removing the controversial Border Patrol commander who'd become the face of the administration's heavy-handed deportation drive.

A Phone Call Changes Everything

The sudden burst of telephone diplomacy came just two days after Alex Pretti, a 37-year-old intensive care nurse, was shot and killed by federal agents during a confrontation with protesters on a Minneapolis street. Pretti's death—the second U.S. citizen fatally shot by immigration agents since Trump deployed 3,000 heavily armed federal officers to the Minneapolis-St. Paul area—finally forced the administration to blink.

Trump and Walz described themselves as being "on a similar wavelength" after their private call, a remarkable shift from the president's earlier defiance of state opposition. Walz's office called it a "productive call" in which Trump agreed to consider reducing the number of immigration agents in the state and allow Minnesota to conduct its own investigation into the Pretti shooting.

Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey also spoke with Trump, with both sides signaling that federal agents would "begin leaving" the Twin Cities starting Tuesday. Writing on Truth Social, Trump claimed "lots of progress" was being made—a far cry from his earlier rhetoric about crushing local resistance.

The Fall of a Hard-Liner

The most telling sign of Trump's retreat? The quiet removal of Gregory Bovino, the Border Patrol "commander at large" who'd become a lightning rod for criticism from Democrats and civil liberties activists. Multiple sources confirmed Bovino has been demoted from his role overseeing the Minnesota operations and will return to his former position as chief patrol agent along California's El Centro sector before retiring.

Despite a DHS spokesperson's denial that Bovino had been "relieved of his duties," the writing was on the wall. Trump's designated border czar, Tom Homan, will now directly oversee Minnesota operations—a clear signal that the administration recognizes the need for a different approach.

Bovino's removal represents more than just a personnel change. He embodied the administration's aggressive enforcement philosophy, one that worked along the border but proved disastrously unsuited for urban operations where federal agents faced organized resistance and media scrutiny.

When the Politics Turn

The numbers tell the story Trump doesn't want to hear. A new Reuters/Ipsos poll released Monday showed 58% of respondents believe Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents have gone "too far" in their crackdown. Only 12% said they hadn't gone far enough, while 26% called the efforts "about right."

These aren't just abstract polling numbers—they represent a political reality that even Trump can't ignore. Minnesota was one of the swing states he narrowly won in 2024, and prolonged federal-state conflict here could become a liability for Republicans heading into the midterms.

The optics were particularly damaging: heavily armed federal agents in military-style gear confronting protesters in American cities, resulting in the deaths of U.S. citizens. It's the kind of imagery that plays poorly in suburban districts where Republicans need to maintain support.

The Bigger Picture

Trump's Minnesota retreat reveals the inherent contradictions in his immigration enforcement strategy. What works as political theater—tough talk about mass deportations and federal supremacy—becomes much more complicated when it meets organized resistance and real-world consequences.

The administration discovered that deploying Border Patrol agents trained for desert interdiction in urban environments creates new problems. These agents, accustomed to operating with minimal oversight along the border, suddenly found themselves under intense scrutiny from local media, civil rights lawyers, and hostile local governments.

Moreover, the federal system itself created friction. Unlike border operations where federal authority is clear, urban deportation raids require cooperation with local law enforcement and respect for state sovereignty—cooperation that simply wasn't forthcoming in Minnesota.