ICE Architect Madison Sheahan Shakes Up Ohio With Trump-Backed Bid

Paul Riverbank, 1/16/2026ICE veteran Madison Sheahan challenges Ohio legend Marcy Kaptur, shaking up a pivotal House race.

At only 28, Sheahan’s work history reads like someone twice her age: the Louisiana Wildlife department, a stint as Kristi Noem’s political strategist, eventually a top post at ICE. Her time with Immigrations and Customs Enforcement is what she’s placing bets on now, shaping it into campaign currency as she steps onto the stage back home. The farm set is intentional—tractors, chickens, sun just barely up. When she launched her campaign, it was with her sleeves literally rolled up: “No excuses. Let’s get it done,” she said plainly, staring straight at the camera.

There’s no denying her career shot forward faster than most. Sheahan didn’t just join ICE, she landed among the agency’s top brass, soon stepping into the deputy director’s office, then serving as a senior leader. According to her, she played a pivotal role in Trump’s tough stance on immigration—her record points to 12,000 new ICE officers hired and 2.5 million deportations in a single year. Critics have raised an eyebrow at those numbers, but Sheahan isn’t pausing to debate; for her, the headline is simple: returning home with the experience to prove it. “Our neighborhoods in Ohio are safer because of ICE, because of President Trump. That’s the bottom line,” she’s said more than once.

Whether the statistics are airtight or subject to interpretation, Sheahan’s campaign has its own rhythm. She leans heavy on her origin story. “Washington changed me, but my roots are here,” she told a small crowd at a Grange hall. Her remarks often hunt for contrast—especially with her opponent. “Forty years in Congress has a way of making you forget where you came from,” she added, not bothering to camouflage the jab at Marcy Kaptur.

For most Ohioans in the 9th, Kaptur needs no introduction. She’s walked the factory floors, pressed flesh at church brunches, and made time for parades in towns so small newcomers barely spot them on a map. The veteran congresswoman’s name is woven into the district’s fabric; she’s the longest-serving woman in the House and isn’t shy about recalling votes secured for local projects or moments making D.C. scrutinize the federal purse strings. Even as district lines shifted to put more red on the board in 2024, Kaptur eked out a narrow win, outlasting a GOP tide that felled other Blue Dog Democrats.

Yet winds can shift sharply in Ohio. The seat, viewed as safely Democratic just cycles ago, is now a “Toss Up” by the Cook Report—a label that stirs far more anxiety than comfort. Party strategists are quietly whispering about the possibility of Kaptur’s run ending.

Sheahan, for her part, isn’t moving quietly. She’s drawing from her big-name associations—not least among them Kristi Noem, now Homeland Security Secretary, who’s described Sheahan as a “steadfast leader” who knows “how to get real results and stand strong against chaos.” Noem’s endorsement carries extra weight with voters attuned to Trump’s wing of the party, but also among a generation hungry for a Republican message that feels disciplined rather than bombastic.

There’s no shortage of others thinking about jumping into the GOP primary, but Sheahan’s campaign is already marking out territory: outsider tales (even if seasoned in D.C.), long days on her family’s land, and headline-grabbing numbers from her ICE tenure. Her speeches cycle through one clear theme—this district needs someone who isn’t beholden to old alliances. “What Ohio needs now is someone who doesn’t just send out mailers around election time but shows up with answers year-round,” she’s told audiences, mixing campaign boilerplate with specific local gripes about gas prices or the crowded emergency room at Mercy Health.

Kaptur, to be fair, has held onto support in places where tenure counts. Voters in towns like Genoa or Walbridge talk about the time she listened at the hardware store, not just what she managed to deliver from Washington. Still, even loyalties forged over decades can waver—especially when voters wonder if Washington can actually change anything at all.

If there’s a single image that captures this contest, perhaps it’s Sheahan feeding chickens before sunrise, her campaign team crowded around a rented folding table with coffee and local pastries—the everyday not staged for effect, but simply lived. Or perhaps it’s Kaptur, head bowed late at a town hall in Oregon, taking notes by pen on details some staffer will deal with in D.C. The district’s watching, ready to tip—which way is a question that, for once, no one’s quite brave enough to answer.

Madison Sheahan’s life in Washington was packed in boxes before dawn, her car pointed north past sleeping suburbs and into the thick quiet of rural Ohio. She pulled away from a world of government buildings and framed recognitions, heading for the same fields in Curtice where she spent childhood mornings hustling through chores long before sunrise—a pattern of hard work that’s little changed, even if the backdrop certainly has.At only 28, Sheahan’s work history reads like someone twice her age: the Louisiana Wildlife department, a stint as Kristi Noem’s political strategist, eventually a top post at ICE. Her time with Immigrations and Customs Enforcement is what she’s placing bets on now, shaping it into campaign currency as she steps onto the stage back home. The farm set is intentional—tractors, chickens, sun just barely up. When she launched her campaign, it was with her sleeves literally rolled up: “No excuses. Let’s get it done,” she said plainly, staring straight at the camera.There’s no denying her career shot forward faster than most. Sheahan didn’t just join ICE, she landed among the agency’s top brass, soon stepping into the deputy director’s office, then serving as a senior leader. According to her, she played a pivotal role in Trump’s tough stance on immigration—her record points to 12,000 new ICE officers hired and 2.5 million deportations in a single year. Critics have raised an eyebrow at those numbers, but Sheahan isn’t pausing to debate; for her, the headline is simple: returning home with the experience to prove it. “Our neighborhoods in Ohio are safer because of ICE, because of President Trump. That’s the bottom line,” she’s said more than once.Whether the statistics are airtight or subject to interpretation, Sheahan’s campaign has its own rhythm. She leans heavy on her origin story. “Washington changed me, but my roots are here,” she told a small crowd at a Grange hall. Her remarks often hunt for contrast—especially with her opponent. “Forty years in Congress has a way of making you forget where you came from,” she added, not bothering to camouflage the jab at Marcy Kaptur.For most Ohioans in the 9th, Kaptur needs no introduction. She’s walked the factory floors, pressed flesh at church brunches, and made time for parades in towns so small newcomers barely spot them on a map. The veteran congresswoman’s name is woven into the district’s fabric; she’s the longest-serving woman in the House and isn’t shy about recalling votes secured for local projects or moments making D.C. scrutinize the federal purse strings. Even as district lines shifted to put more red on the board in 2024, Kaptur eked out a narrow win, outlasting a GOP tide that felled other Blue Dog Democrats.Yet winds can shift sharply in Ohio. The seat, viewed as safely Democratic just cycles ago, is now a “Toss Up” by the Cook Report—a label that stirs far more anxiety than comfort. Party strategists are quietly whispering about the possibility of Kaptur’s run ending.Sheahan, for her part, isn’t moving quietly. She’s drawing from her big-name associations—not least among them Kristi Noem, now Homeland Security Secretary, who’s described Sheahan as a “steadfast leader” who knows “how to get real results and stand strong against chaos.” Noem’s endorsement carries extra weight with voters attuned to Trump’s wing of the party, but also among a generation hungry for a Republican message that feels disciplined rather than bombastic.There’s no shortage of others thinking about jumping into the GOP primary, but Sheahan’s campaign is already marking out territory: outsider tales (even if seasoned in D.C.), long days on her family’s land, and headline-grabbing numbers from her ICE tenure. Her speeches cycle through one clear theme—this district needs someone who isn’t beholden to old alliances. “What Ohio needs now is someone who doesn’t just send out mailers around election time but shows up with answers year-round,” she’s told audiences, mixing campaign boilerplate with specific local gripes about gas prices or the crowded emergency room at Mercy Health.Kaptur, to be fair, has held onto support in places where tenure counts. Voters in towns like Genoa or Walbridge talk about the time she listened at the hardware store, not just what she managed to deliver from Washington. Still, even loyalties forged over decades can waver—especially when voters wonder if Washington can actually change anything at all.If there’s a single image that captures this contest, perhaps it’s Sheahan feeding chickens before sunrise, her campaign team crowded around a rented folding table with coffee and local pastries—the everyday not staged for effect, but simply lived. Or perhaps it’s Kaptur, head bowed late at a town hall in Oregon, taking notes by pen on details some staffer will deal with in D.C. The district’s watching, ready to tip—which way is a question that, for once, no one’s quite brave enough to answer.