Activists Form Sanctuary Communities to Track ICE in New Hampshire

(NEW HAMPSHIRE) Activists across New Hampshire have formed at least eight Sanctuary Communities this year to track, document, and publicly oppose ICE activity, building citizen networks to monitor raids, support immigrants, and challenge what they call “police-state tactics.” The loosely connected groups, launched in cities and towns including Lancaster, Albany, and across the Monadnock region, say they are responding to a sharp expansion of federal immigration enforcement in the state and promise to remain within the law while pushing back in public.

Their effort, which took shape in 2025, comes as New Hampshire now has two facilities holding people for Immigration and Customs Enforcement and as state leaders move to bar local governments from offering protections to undocumented residents. Organizers say they began with small circles of neighbors and friends and quickly met a surge of interest, including more than 100 people at the first meeting of a Monadnock-area group, as fears about rising detentions spread through immigrant communities.

“Any community—groups of concerned people from nearby towns, churches and institutions—can informally come together and declare themselves a Sanctuary Community, ready to provide assistance to people whose lives and well-being are threatened by federal security forces,” said J. Larry Brown of Lancaster, who, with Judi Garfinkel, helped originate the concept.

The core idea is simple: ordinary residents watch closely for signs of ICE activity and share what they see. Organizers say they monitor and videotape raids, pass witness accounts to media and law enforcement, alert local institutions to enforcement actions, and make a public record of arrests and detentions. The effort includes legal rights trainings and real-time reporting through tools like the ICE Activity Tracker, which allows people to submit sightings, share alerts, and access legal aid hotlines and rapid response networks. Groups emphasize staying on the right side of the law, reminding members that filming federal agents in public is lawful and protecting their First Amendment rights to organize and speak out.

From the Mount Washington Valley to the Lakes Region, lawyers, retirees, church volunteers, immigrant advocates, and families say they are witnessing an unmistakable rise in enforcement.

“At the beginning of 2025, there was just one ICE detention center in New Hampshire, at the Strafford County Jail. In March, the federal prison in Berlin became the second. Now ICE is trying to negotiate with three more counties in our state to use their jails to incarcerate our neighbors. We must push back in Rockingham, Merrimack and Hillsborough County, and any/everywhere else,” said Megan Chapman, a human rights lawyer from Albany and a member of the Mount Washington Valley and Lakes Region group.

The move to build Sanctuary Communities has stirred both passionate backing from immigrant advocates and sharp criticism from state officials. Republican Governor Kelly Ayotte warned that organizers who interfere with law enforcement will face consequences under a state law she signed earlier this year.

“Threats to law enforcement or efforts to obstruct them will not be tolerated in New Hampshire. We are not a sanctuary for criminals who have come into this country illegally, and the law I signed earlier this year reinforces that. If you disrupt law enforcement activity, you will be prosecuted,” Ayotte said. Republican State Senator Bill Gannon added: “We have seen the consequences of Democrats’ continual support for open border policies, and we will never have Sanctuary Cities in New Hampshire.” Representative Joe Sweeney said: “If you are here illegally, you are not welcome in New Hampshire. You cannot hide. We will find you and deport you.”

Against that political backdrop, organizers insist they are not attempting to hinder officers but to document what happens, protect due process, and support families when arrests occur. They describe their networks as decentralized, with each group operating independently, drafting a statement of purpose, choosing its own actions, and publicizing its work while coordinating with others as momentum builds. As outlined by founders, any group of 6–10 people from different towns can declare itself a Sanctuary Community, link up with neighbors, and grow.

“We’re going step by step. We’re not highly sophisticated. We’re just relatively ordinary citizens. This is what citizen movements are about. They grow, and they turn here and there. We don’t know where this is going. We don’t know … if we’re going to be successful, whatever that might mean. This is truly the David and Goliath moment in our history,” said Larry Brown.

The spread of community-based monitoring mirrors what organizers say they are seeing on the ground. Of nearly 60,000 people detained by ICE nationally, less than a third have criminal convictions; about 15,000 have pending charges, and over 27,700 are classified as “other immigration violators.” Residents say a growing share of arrests involve people without criminal convictions being picked up at home, at work, or on the street. Bob Baker, an immigrant and lawyer in Columbia, described tactics that he argues undermine basic rights.

“Federal agents arresting and detaining people off the streets — sometimes while masked and in unmarked vehicles — denies those people of due process in the courts,” Baker said.

For David Blair, who helped organize the Monadnock Immigrant Solidarity Collaborative, the call for action was clear as enforcement intensified.

“Immigrants in general, not just asylum seekers, were going to need more assistance, more support, more solidarity, I would say, from the community,” Blair said.

The group’s first meeting drew more than 100 people, and volunteers began offering know-your-rights trainings, tracking local ICE activity, and coordinating rapid response. Organizers in multiple towns say they now keep lists of bilingual volunteers, pro bono attorneys, and drivers who can help families get to court hearings or visit relatives in detention.

The idea of Sanctuary Communities in New Hampshire diverges from formal city or county “sanctuary” policies that limit local cooperation with federal immigration agents, which are now banned under state law. Activists say their approach relies on civic action rather than government ordinances, sidestepping the prohibition on municipal “welcoming” policies by keeping activity in the hands of private citizens and institutions. They stress that they do not advise anyone to resist arrest or interfere with officers. Instead, they document from a distance, call lawyers, and make sure families know where a loved one has been taken, while continuing to speak publicly about what they witness.

Chapman argues that citizen action is necessary when institutions are constrained.

“By forming a citizens’ movement, No. 1, we make it not about towns and cities and authorities. It’s about human beings and citizens saying, ‘We don’t accept this’,” she said.

Organizers say that stance reflects conversations across living rooms, church basements, and community centers where residents trade stories about neighbors taken into custody and share advice on what to do if ICE knocks on the door. Volunteers demonstrate how to record interactions on their phones, explain the right to remain silent, and circulate hotline numbers for legal assistance and rapid response.

The emergence of the Berlin federal prison as an ICE detention site in March added urgency, activists say, by expanding a system that previously centered on the Strafford County Jail. With negotiations reportedly underway to add county jails in Rockingham, Merrimack, and Hillsborough to the network, community groups say they are bracing for further increases in ICE activity. Organizers describe car pools to detention centers, child care for parents attending court dates, and public forums where residents share what they observe outside raids, from marked SUVs to unmarked vehicles circling apartment complexes. They say the goal is to make sure arrests do not happen in silence, and that people picked up by ICE are not lost in the system without community support.

State officials argue that public monitoring can cross the line into obstruction, pointing to Ayotte’s warning that anyone who disrupts law enforcement will face prosecution. Activists counter that filming officers in public is lawful and that they instruct volunteers to keep their distance and avoid interfering.

“Any community—groups of concerned people from nearby towns, churches and institutions—can informally come together and declare themselves a Sanctuary Community,” Brown said, adding that the model is intentionally simple to keep groups nimble and within legal boundaries.

Organizers say they notify local police when they gather to observe and pass along any footage or eyewitness accounts when appropriate, underscoring that documentation can serve both public transparency and accountability.

Supporters of the movement note that the national detention figures paint a broader picture of who ends up in custody, with less than a third having criminal convictions. For them, that statistic reinforces the need for civilian oversight, especially in small towns where an arrest can ripple through workplaces, schools, and neighborhoods. In Lancaster and nearby communities, volunteers describe checking in on families after pre-dawn arrests, connecting them with legal services, and gathering names and dates to keep track of people transferred between facilities. They say the ICE Activity Tracker and similar tools have helped knit together a network across the state, so sightings in one town are quickly shared with others.

As the number of Sanctuary Communities grows, organizers are trying to standardize basic steps for new groups: gather 6–10 people from different towns, write a clear statement of purpose, choose a few actions to start, publicize contact information, and link with neighbors doing similar work. They emphasize that groups are independent by design, adjusting to local needs while sharing strategies that work. That decentralized approach, they say, helps them avoid political fights at city hall that could bog down momentum or run afoul of the state’s ban on municipal sanctuary policies. At community meetings, residents often swap tips on how to speak to school principals, hospital administrators, and church leaders about what to do if ICE shows up, and how to reassure families who fear sending children to class after a raid.

Officials have not provided a public timeline or details on negotiations with additional county jails, and organizers say that uncertainty fuels anxiety, especially for mixed-status families where U.S.-born children worry about a parent being detained. In those settings, a knock at the door can set off frantic phone calls to neighbors and networks built to respond. Volunteers describe arriving to stand a quiet distance away with cameras rolling, calling legal hotlines, and writing down badge numbers and vehicle descriptions. They say they also document when no arrests occur, logging sightings to build a fuller picture of ICE operations across northern and southern New Hampshire.

While the groups frame their efforts as a defense of due process and community support, Republicans at the statehouse have used blunt language to condemn the movement.

“We have seen the consequences of Democrats’ continual support for open border policies, and we will never have Sanctuary Cities in New Hampshire,” Gannon said. “If you are here illegally, you are not welcome in New Hampshire. You cannot hide. We will find you and deport you,” Sweeney said.

Organizers respond that their work focuses on facts on the ground, not partisan debates, and that they will keep documenting and offering aid regardless of political winds.

For Baker in Columbia, the motivation is personal and legal.

“Federal agents arresting and detaining people off the streets — sometimes while masked and in unmarked vehicles — denies those people of due process in the courts,” he said, arguing that public oversight is a basic civic duty.

That view is echoed by Chapman and others who see Sanctuary Communities as a necessary response to a system they believe is expanding without sufficient public scrutiny.

“By forming a citizens’ movement… ‘We don’t accept this’,” Chapman said, summarizing what many in the groups describe as a line they are not willing to cross: staying silent.

The build-out of these networks is happening against a national backdrop of increased immigration enforcement and detention, but New Hampshire’s landscape is distinct because of its small towns and the quick addition of a second detention site in Berlin earlier this year. Organizers say they will continue to rely on simple tools—phones, notepads, hotlines—and the power of neighbors who show up. Brown’s description of a grassroots effort that finds its shape over time carries through their planning sessions, which often end with practical assignments: who will track court dates, who will compile footage, who will reach out to a family that needs help paying for a bus ticket to see a detained relative.

For those seeking official information about immigration enforcement and detention, the federal government’s Enforcement and Removal Operations page provides agency policies and contacts at U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement – Enforcement and Removal Operations. Activists say they reference official materials even as they challenge the methods and scope of ICE activity in the state, arguing that informed communities are better equipped to respond within the law.

As the year moves on, the debate over Sanctuary Communities in New Hampshire shows no sign of fading. Officials are drawing hard lines about what they will prosecute. Organizers are redoubling efforts to train volunteers, spread legal hotlines, and keep cameras rolling. The distance between those positions is where the state now finds itself: a patchwork of community groups documenting federal actions, a governor and legislators promising to enforce the law, and families watching every car that slows on their street. Whether the movement grows to dozens more towns or remains a cluster of eight or more groups, both sides seem prepared for a long contest over what enforcement looks like, who gets to witness it, and how a small state handles the human fallout of immigration arrests.