MAGA Dynasty: Trump Endorses Twin Nehls in Texas Power Handoff

Paul Riverbank, 12/5/2025Twin Nehls brothers, Trump endorsement, and a GOP legacy face new political tests in Texas.

Now, before anyone could start speculating about outsiders swooping in, the next Nehls was ready. Trever—Troy’s identical twin—stood up. And there’s something striking about watching an outgoing representative and his mirror image pass the torch: same chiseled jaw, same buzzcut, even a similar CV. Fort Bend County has seen Trever in plenty of agency photos, too, as a longtime constable and, before that, an Army colonel with stints overseas. Nehls, it seems, is a recurring surname on county ballots.

Then, just as everyone was recalibrating, in swept Donald Trump on social media, signature superlatives in tow. “MAGA Warrior,” he called Trever. And whatever one thinks of the former president, his thumbs-up remains a potent force in this corner of Texas. He didn’t only cite Trever’s résumé—constable, colonel, all the checkboxes—but made it about the movement: “He and his family are fierce advocates for our Movement to, MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN.”

Trever wasted zero time embracing Trump’s endorsement—posting on Facebook about standing “firmly by President Trump” and vowing to turn executive orders into permanent laws. Troy himself chimed in: “He won’t need on-the-job training.” The message was clear—this wasn’t just a family connection, but a transfer of both legacy and mission.

But even with two Nehls brothers and a Trump imprimatur, politics here has never been as simple as swapping out yard signs. The locals recall Trever’s 2020 run for Fort Bend County Sheriff. He lost to Democrat Eric Fagan—a stinging upset in a region most outsiders would’ve called reliably Republican. That defeat lingers in the backdrop: in Texas, every “sure thing” comes with a story of someone who lost.

Of course, 2024 is shaping up to be its own contest. Jacey Jetton, who carved out a profile in Texas’s statehouse, is in the race too. Competition, even—especially—in so-called safe seats, can’t be dismissed out-of-hand. For a brief moment, there were rumors that Pierce Bush might jump in, raising the prospect of a Bush-versus-Trump proxy fight, but that fizzled before it started.

In the early days, the Nehls candidacy and Trump’s support are making most of the noise. Eyes are already on the reminders populating mailboxes and pinging phones: blue-starred campaign flyers, texts invoking border security, and—soon enough—attack ads. The equation for winning here usually relies on more than endorsements: timing, turnout, and the shifting winds of suburban Houston demographics all play a part.

If you look closely, you’ll see that legacy candidates don’t have the field to themselves, and each primary has room for a shake-up or lesson in humility. Most observers would bet that the Nehls name, especially with Trump in tow, can carry the district a few more cycles. But anyone tracking Texas politics knows to leave room for the unknown; after all, the district’s avoided turning blue, but every cycle brings its own surprise.

So, as campaign season revs up, Fort Bend is watching familiar faces jockey for position on new turf. The stakes are local, but the echoes will be national—as they always are when identity, legacy, and big endorsements collide. The only certainty is that this story, like so many in Texas politics, is still being written.

When Troy Nehls announced he would be stepping away from Congress, the mood in Fort Bend County shifted. There’s something final about how he put it: after three decades on the front lines—police, constable, Army uniforms, House floor—he told his family at Thanksgiving it was time to come home. The phrasing was classic Nehls, blunt and personal: “After more than 30 years in law enforcement… representing this district in Congress, I have made the decision… to focus on my family and return home after this Congress.”Now, before anyone could start speculating about outsiders swooping in, the next Nehls was ready. Trever—Troy’s identical twin—stood up. And there’s something striking about watching an outgoing representative and his mirror image pass the torch: same chiseled jaw, same buzzcut, even a similar CV. Fort Bend County has seen Trever in plenty of agency photos, too, as a longtime constable and, before that, an Army colonel with stints overseas. Nehls, it seems, is a recurring surname on county ballots.Then, just as everyone was recalibrating, in swept Donald Trump on social media, signature superlatives in tow. “MAGA Warrior,” he called Trever. And whatever one thinks of the former president, his thumbs-up remains a potent force in this corner of Texas. He didn’t only cite Trever’s résumé—constable, colonel, all the checkboxes—but made it about the movement: “He and his family are fierce advocates for our Movement to, MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN.”Trever wasted zero time embracing Trump’s endorsement—posting on Facebook about standing “firmly by President Trump” and vowing to turn executive orders into permanent laws. Troy himself chimed in: “He won’t need on-the-job training.” The message was clear—this wasn’t just a family connection, but a transfer of both legacy and mission.But even with two Nehls brothers and a Trump imprimatur, politics here has never been as simple as swapping out yard signs. The locals recall Trever’s 2020 run for Fort Bend County Sheriff. He lost to Democrat Eric Fagan—a stinging upset in a region most outsiders would’ve called reliably Republican. That defeat lingers in the backdrop: in Texas, every “sure thing” comes with a story of someone who lost.Of course, 2024 is shaping up to be its own contest. Jacey Jetton, who carved out a profile in Texas’s statehouse, is in the race too. Competition, even—especially—in so-called safe seats, can’t be dismissed out-of-hand. For a brief moment, there were rumors that Pierce Bush might jump in, raising the prospect of a Bush-versus-Trump proxy fight, but that fizzled before it started.In the early days, the Nehls candidacy and Trump’s support are making most of the noise. Eyes are already on the reminders populating mailboxes and pinging phones: blue-starred campaign flyers, texts invoking border security, and—soon enough—attack ads. The equation for winning here usually relies on more than endorsements: timing, turnout, and the shifting winds of suburban Houston demographics all play a part.If you look closely, you’ll see that legacy candidates don’t have the field to themselves, and each primary has room for a shake-up or lesson in humility. Most observers would bet that the Nehls name, especially with Trump in tow, can carry the district a few more cycles. But anyone tracking Texas politics knows to leave room for the unknown; after all, the district’s avoided turning blue, but every cycle brings its own surprise.So, as campaign season revs up, Fort Bend is watching familiar faces jockey for position on new turf. The stakes are local, but the echoes will be national—as they always are when identity, legacy, and big endorsements collide. The only certainty is that this story, like so many in Texas politics, is still being written.