MIAMI — Herlain, a Haitian-born registered nurse in North Lauderdale, has stopped leaving her home except when necessary. She has instructed relatives to record encounters with federal immigration officers in case she is detained. “I’m a nurse, I help people,” she said, describing the fear that now keeps her inside. Herlain is among nearly 350,000 Haitian migrants who lost Temporary Protected Status, or TPS, in July under the Trump administration’s immigration crackdown. The program had allowed Haitians to remain legally in the United States and obtain work authorization while shielding them from deportation to Haiti, where political instability, natural disasters and worsening violence have made daily life increasingly dangerous. The Department of Homeland Security defended the decision, saying TPS is meant to be temporary and accusing past administrations of allowing it to operate as a permanent immigration program. The department said Congress never intended TPS to function as “a de facto amnesty program.” For Haitians in South Florida, the policy change is unfolding against the backdrop of a deepening crisis in Haiti. Armed gangs control large areas of the capital and have expanded their reach. The United Nations recently reported that dozens of people, including women and children sheltering in a church, were killed in a massacre. At Notre Dame d’Haiti Catholic Church in Miami’s Little Haiti neighborhood, the Rev. Reginald Jean-Mary said parishioners are experiencing widespread anxiety and depression. He called the government’s approach “psychological warfare” and said he knows of 14 church members detained by immigration officers. The effects are also visible in the neighborhood’s economy and civic life. Little Haiti’s normally busy commercial corridor has grown quiet as residents avoid public spaces. A restaurant lost much of its staff to immigration arrests, and a barbershop closed after its owner was detained. A food bank has opened inside a church to serve people who are afraid to go shopping. Jan Mapou, owner of the Haitian Creole bookstore Libreri Mapou, said customers and neighbors are staying out of sight. “Everybody is afraid, traumatized,” he said. The church’s adult learning program, which began the year with 231 students, now has 17, Jean-Mary said. Attendance at prayer services has also fallen sharply. Some Haitian immigrants are resisting the pressure to disappear from public life. Farah Larrieux, a former broadcaster and leader of the Miramar Haitian-American Residents and Business Owners Association, said she will continue speaking publicly against the administration’s treatment of Haitian immigrants. She said returning to Haiti would amount to a death sentence because of her criticism of corruption and political abuses there. Larrieux also questioned the government’s decision to deport Haitians while warning U.S. citizens against traveling to Haiti because of the security risks. “People should focus on the protective aspect” of TPS, not only on the word “temporary,” she said. The loss of status has affected families who built lives in the United States over many years, including workers, business owners and people with U.S.-born children. Many now face detention or removal proceedings while searching for other legal options. The end of TPS does not automatically mean every Haitian recipient will be deported, but it removes the protection that had allowed them to live and work legally. The consequences have reached beyond Florida. In Springfield, Ohio, the death of 20-year-old Pierre Damas Bel, who apparently died by suicide after losing TPS and being fitted with an ankle monitor, has shaken Haitian communities nationwide. Jean-Mary urged parishioners to rely on one another as they navigate the uncertainty. Despite the fear, he said, the community would not surrender its faith or its solidarity.