‘Enough Is Enough!’ Trump Team Freezes Minnesota Funds Over Explosive Fraud Scandal

Paul Riverbank, 1/10/2026Federal funds frozen in Minnesota after massive COVID-19 aid fraud; families and officials scramble.

The powder keg at the center of it all? The Feeding Our Future debacle, a scandal that doesn’t just grip headlines but also wields a grim distinction: federal prosecutors have named it the largest COVID-19 relief fraud in the country. At least 78 people, charged so far, are facing accusations of stealing not just millions, but hundreds of millions, from programs set up to feed kids during the pandemic.

Yet while courts will decide individual guilt, the broader fallout is unfolding at a dizzying pace. According to the latest directives, all federal awards to Minnesota and Minneapolis are being halted immediately. “No more handouts to thieves,” Rollins thundered in her letter. The USDA wants a precise accounting for every federal dollar spent since the start of the year—a trove of paperwork and explanation that could take weeks to compile.

This freeze isn’t the first signal of mounting federal anger. Well before the axe fell, Washington had pressed Minnesota, along with 20 other states, to open the books for national anti-fraud efforts targeting programs like SNAP. The push met resistance. Some states challenged the request, even going so far as to file lawsuits in federal court. The Trump administration’s warning came with a bright red line—refuse, and your funding is at risk. Now, for Minnesota, that risk is reality.

With the headlines focused on the big freeze, other federal agencies have quietly put the state under the microscope. The Treasury Department, led by Secretary Scott Bessent, lowered the bar for banks in Hennepin and Ramsey counties: all international wire transfers above $3,000 must now be flagged to regulators. “Fraudsters in Minnesota stole at least $300 million meant for children in need,” Bessent told reporters, explaining that these aggressive steps are meant to cast more sunlight into an opaque system where, for too long, huge sums vanished abroad.

For people on the ground, however, it’s not the spectacle of federal action that stings. It’s the new uncertainty. Families who have always counted on programs for basic meals are left hanging, wondering whether the next round of assistance will arrive on time—or at all. State officials, meanwhile, face accusations they never anticipated. Rollins didn’t mince words in her assessment of Walz and Frey, suggesting they’d dodged responsibility—a charge both men roundly deny.

The magnitude of the Feeding Our Future case is undeniable, but the fallout extends further. Federal agencies, not just the USDA, have begun eyeing all major streams of aid money. Treasury’s reporting threshold in Minnesota’s largest counties is now among the lowest in the nation. The Health and Human Services Department even tried to suspend billions more, only to be reined in for now by a federal judge.

What’s emerging is less a story about fraud alone, and more a test of transparency—a reckoning, some say, for how government at every level tracks and spends its share of the federal pie. The Trump administration’s message, spelled out in bold: prove where the money’s gone, or watch it stop altogether.

Left unresolved is the question of fallout, both political and practical. Will families miss meals? Will the state comply by the USDA’s looming deadline? Nobody involved is pretending the situation will be anything but contentious in the weeks ahead. For Minnesotans, and for officials scrambling to restore confidence, the next chapter is unwritten, and the stakes—for once—feel achingly real.

No one in Minnesota’s social services world was expecting the phones to ring off the hook last Wednesday. Yet, by mid-afternoon, news had spread: federal support—$129 million worth—was off the table, indefinitely. The order arrived briskly from Washington, punctuated in the unmistakable, pointed language of USDA Secretary Brooke Rollins. A letter addressed to Governor Tim Walz and Mayor Jacob Frey left little room for ambiguity. “Enough is enough!” it read, accusing Minnesota and Minneapolis officials of presiding over what Rollins called “MASSIVE fraud.”The powder keg at the center of it all? The Feeding Our Future debacle, a scandal that doesn’t just grip headlines but also wields a grim distinction: federal prosecutors have named it the largest COVID-19 relief fraud in the country. At least 78 people, charged so far, are facing accusations of stealing not just millions, but hundreds of millions, from programs set up to feed kids during the pandemic.Yet while courts will decide individual guilt, the broader fallout is unfolding at a dizzying pace. According to the latest directives, all federal awards to Minnesota and Minneapolis are being halted immediately. “No more handouts to thieves,” Rollins thundered in her letter. The USDA wants a precise accounting for every federal dollar spent since the start of the year—a trove of paperwork and explanation that could take weeks to compile.This freeze isn’t the first signal of mounting federal anger. Well before the axe fell, Washington had pressed Minnesota, along with 20 other states, to open the books for national anti-fraud efforts targeting programs like SNAP. The push met resistance. Some states challenged the request, even going so far as to file lawsuits in federal court. The Trump administration’s warning came with a bright red line—refuse, and your funding is at risk. Now, for Minnesota, that risk is reality.With the headlines focused on the big freeze, other federal agencies have quietly put the state under the microscope. The Treasury Department, led by Secretary Scott Bessent, lowered the bar for banks in Hennepin and Ramsey counties: all international wire transfers above $3,000 must now be flagged to regulators. “Fraudsters in Minnesota stole at least $300 million meant for children in need,” Bessent told reporters, explaining that these aggressive steps are meant to cast more sunlight into an opaque system where, for too long, huge sums vanished abroad.For people on the ground, however, it’s not the spectacle of federal action that stings. It’s the new uncertainty. Families who have always counted on programs for basic meals are left hanging, wondering whether the next round of assistance will arrive on time—or at all. State officials, meanwhile, face accusations they never anticipated. Rollins didn’t mince words in her assessment of Walz and Frey, suggesting they’d dodged responsibility—a charge both men roundly deny.The magnitude of the Feeding Our Future case is undeniable, but the fallout extends further. Federal agencies, not just the USDA, have begun eyeing all major streams of aid money. Treasury’s reporting threshold in Minnesota’s largest counties is now among the lowest in the nation. The Health and Human Services Department even tried to suspend billions more, only to be reined in for now by a federal judge.What’s emerging is less a story about fraud alone, and more a test of transparency—a reckoning, some say, for how government at every level tracks and spends its share of the federal pie. The Trump administration’s message, spelled out in bold: prove where the money’s gone, or watch it stop altogether.Left unresolved is the question of fallout, both political and practical. Will families miss meals? Will the state comply by the USDA’s looming deadline? Nobody involved is pretending the situation will be anything but contentious in the weeks ahead. For Minnesotans, and for officials scrambling to restore confidence, the next chapter is unwritten, and the stakes—for once—feel achingly real.