Omar Under Fire as Daycare Scam Exposes Government, Media Failures

Paul Riverbank, 12/29/2025Daycare fraud shakes Minnesota, sparking political firestorm, media scrutiny, and questions about Rep. Omar.

Federal prosecutors say the scale is almost unimaginable. Government programs meant to keep kids fed and cared for during the pandemic, they allege, were siphoned by what’s been labeled “industrial-scale” fraud. The losses? Over $9 billion. “The magnitude cannot be overstated,” explained Joe Thompson, first assistant U.S. attorney, when the news first broke. For once, the phrase didn’t sound like hyperbole. What investigators uncovered bore little resemblance to isolated white-collar crime: it was sprawling, organized, and—by all accounts—devastating.

Most accused are members of Minnesota’s Somali community. And the numbers are not small—dozens have faced charges so far, with suspicions that the network ran as deep as any major enterprise. The accusations are pointed: fake childcare offices, imaginary children, paperwork that flunks even the laxest audit. The fallout quickly moved beyond the courtroom, becoming a kind of referendum—on oversight, on trust, even on identity.

Politics, inevitably, found its way in. No figure in Minnesota politics looms larger in this debate than Rep. Ilhan Omar. Her 2020 support for the MEALS Act, aimed at fighting hunger during COVID's darkest days, is under the microscope. Critics mutter that the bill’s provisions made it all too easy for fraud to flourish. Omar, for her part, isn’t backing down. “Absolutely no regrets… it did help feed kids,” she told local press, restless in her conviction. Whether this defiance reassures or riles depends, perhaps, on one’s distance from the epicenter.

Yet the questions swirling around Omar don’t stop at state lines. She’s been vocal in U.S. foreign policy—perhaps most notably by opposing official recognition of Somaliland. For those less familiar: Somaliland broke from Somalia over three decades ago, forging a fragile but surprisingly functional democracy in the region. Think peaceful elections, internal security, and—at least for now—a homegrown system less reliant on outsiders than its neighbor to the south.

Michael Rubin, a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute, draws a bright line between the two. “Look at Minnesota and look at Somalia,” he says. “Where you find systemic failures in governance in Somalia, you find self-policing and functional institutions in Somaliland.” And recently, the conversation has grown louder—thanks to Israel’s overtures, with Prime Minister Netanyahu announcing full diplomatic recognition of Somaliland. “If the U.S. cares about stability, about partners, about who really runs their own affairs, you’d think we’d pay attention,” Rubin adds. The country’s reliable elections and calm streets present quite the contrast to the billions shipped to Somalia’s internationally recognized, but perennially unstable, government.

So, what’s driving Rep. Omar’s stance? Here the speculation grows hotter. Rubin and others suggest clan loyalties—inescapable in Somali politics—hold sway, with Omar “advancing Somalia’s interests, even from Capitol Hill.” He points out that in Somali-language speeches, she calls Somalia—not America—her true home. Omar herself has declined to answer these charges, at least so far.

The story’s ripples stretch further: former President Trump, characteristically irreverent, weighed in—“Does anyone know what Somaliland is, really?” he quipped, then promised a closer look given Israel’s diplomatic maneuvering. For observers like Rubin, Somaliland’s trajectory—business-friendly, security-minded, self-reliant—would surely resonate with a Trumpian worldview, if the details ever made it through the noise.

Meanwhile, the media’s role—or absence—has become its own subplot. Since the daycare revelations first surfaced in December, some major networks have kept quiet. MS NOW and CNN scarcely mentioned the saga, even as video clips of deserted facilities racked up millions of views online. Fox News and NewsNation, perhaps unsurprisingly, seized on the spectacle, running stories stacked with sharp soundbites. Critics argue these gaps aren’t just editorial choices but missed opportunities for accountability. An independent review put it plainly: “This could be the biggest domestic story of the month, and MS NOW and CNN have failed their viewers by ignoring it.”

Instead, the coverage at some outlets veered toward highlighting Trump’s controversial remarks about Somali immigrants—sidestepping any direct mention of fraud. The New York Times, taking yet another approach, explored the sense of betrayal and suspicion now roiling Minnesota’s Somali neighborhoods. Local leaders, too, have felt the heat; Governor Tim Walz is under pressure for what many call lax oversight. He’s pushed back, dismissing some federal tallies as “speculation.” The back-and-forth is likely just beginning.

Federal authorities, for their part, aren’t limiting themselves to daycares. The Justice Department has started probing whether similar fraud has crept into companies using diversity and inclusion grants. The message is unambiguous: as billions continue to flow through programs in the name of equity or social goals, the scrutiny will only sharpen.

Ultimately, what started as a local heartbreak now stirs a national reckoning—about who gets trusted with public money, how oversight is enforced, and what happens when long-standing loyalties collide with broader obligations. The answers, if they come, will demand more than slogans or soundbites. For many in Minnesota—and beyond—the wait for transparency and reform has only begun.

It’s hard to miss them now: rows of daycare centers in Minnesota, windows shuttered against the wind, their signs faded. Only a few years ago, these places teemed with painted handprints and children’s voices. Today, just silence—except for the simmer of scandal.Federal prosecutors say the scale is almost unimaginable. Government programs meant to keep kids fed and cared for during the pandemic, they allege, were siphoned by what’s been labeled “industrial-scale” fraud. The losses? Over $9 billion. “The magnitude cannot be overstated,” explained Joe Thompson, first assistant U.S. attorney, when the news first broke. For once, the phrase didn’t sound like hyperbole. What investigators uncovered bore little resemblance to isolated white-collar crime: it was sprawling, organized, and—by all accounts—devastating.Most accused are members of Minnesota’s Somali community. And the numbers are not small—dozens have faced charges so far, with suspicions that the network ran as deep as any major enterprise. The accusations are pointed: fake childcare offices, imaginary children, paperwork that flunks even the laxest audit. The fallout quickly moved beyond the courtroom, becoming a kind of referendum—on oversight, on trust, even on identity.Politics, inevitably, found its way in. No figure in Minnesota politics looms larger in this debate than Rep. Ilhan Omar. Her 2020 support for the MEALS Act, aimed at fighting hunger during COVID's darkest days, is under the microscope. Critics mutter that the bill’s provisions made it all too easy for fraud to flourish. Omar, for her part, isn’t backing down. “Absolutely no regrets… it did help feed kids,” she told local press, restless in her conviction. Whether this defiance reassures or riles depends, perhaps, on one’s distance from the epicenter.Yet the questions swirling around Omar don’t stop at state lines. She’s been vocal in U.S. foreign policy—perhaps most notably by opposing official recognition of Somaliland. For those less familiar: Somaliland broke from Somalia over three decades ago, forging a fragile but surprisingly functional democracy in the region. Think peaceful elections, internal security, and—at least for now—a homegrown system less reliant on outsiders than its neighbor to the south.Michael Rubin, a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute, draws a bright line between the two. “Look at Minnesota and look at Somalia,” he says. “Where you find systemic failures in governance in Somalia, you find self-policing and functional institutions in Somaliland.” And recently, the conversation has grown louder—thanks to Israel’s overtures, with Prime Minister Netanyahu announcing full diplomatic recognition of Somaliland. “If the U.S. cares about stability, about partners, about who really runs their own affairs, you’d think we’d pay attention,” Rubin adds. The country’s reliable elections and calm streets present quite the contrast to the billions shipped to Somalia’s internationally recognized, but perennially unstable, government.So, what’s driving Rep. Omar’s stance? Here the speculation grows hotter. Rubin and others suggest clan loyalties—inescapable in Somali politics—hold sway, with Omar “advancing Somalia’s interests, even from Capitol Hill.” He points out that in Somali-language speeches, she calls Somalia—not America—her true home. Omar herself has declined to answer these charges, at least so far.The story’s ripples stretch further: former President Trump, characteristically irreverent, weighed in—“Does anyone know what Somaliland is, really?” he quipped, then promised a closer look given Israel’s diplomatic maneuvering. For observers like Rubin, Somaliland’s trajectory—business-friendly, security-minded, self-reliant—would surely resonate with a Trumpian worldview, if the details ever made it through the noise.Meanwhile, the media’s role—or absence—has become its own subplot. Since the daycare revelations first surfaced in December, some major networks have kept quiet. MS NOW and CNN scarcely mentioned the saga, even as video clips of deserted facilities racked up millions of views online. Fox News and NewsNation, perhaps unsurprisingly, seized on the spectacle, running stories stacked with sharp soundbites. Critics argue these gaps aren’t just editorial choices but missed opportunities for accountability. An independent review put it plainly: “This could be the biggest domestic story of the month, and MS NOW and CNN have failed their viewers by ignoring it.”Instead, the coverage at some outlets veered toward highlighting Trump’s controversial remarks about Somali immigrants—sidestepping any direct mention of fraud. The New York Times, taking yet another approach, explored the sense of betrayal and suspicion now roiling Minnesota’s Somali neighborhoods. Local leaders, too, have felt the heat; Governor Tim Walz is under pressure for what many call lax oversight. He’s pushed back, dismissing some federal tallies as “speculation.” The back-and-forth is likely just beginning.Federal authorities, for their part, aren’t limiting themselves to daycares. The Justice Department has started probing whether similar fraud has crept into companies using diversity and inclusion grants. The message is unambiguous: as billions continue to flow through programs in the name of equity or social goals, the scrutiny will only sharpen.Ultimately, what started as a local heartbreak now stirs a national reckoning—about who gets trusted with public money, how oversight is enforced, and what happens when long-standing loyalties collide with broader obligations. The answers, if they come, will demand more than slogans or soundbites. For many in Minnesota—and beyond—the wait for transparency and reform has only begun.