Taxpayer Dollars Fuel Al-Shabaab: The Welfare Fraud Politicians Won’t Talk About

Paul Riverbank, 11/21/2025Minnesota welfare fraud fuels Al-Shabaab; billions lost, politics tangled, trust and security at stake.

Welfare programs, those safety nets stitched together for the most vulnerable, have somehow become entangled in schemes reaching far beyond state lines. The story doesn’t begin and end with a few bad actors. Instead, it sprawls—a tangle of fraud that, according to federal officials, has stretched taxpayer dollars all the way to Somalia, placing money right in the pockets of the extremist group Al-Shabaab.

Consider the Feeding Our Future scandal, if you want an entry point: over $300 million meant to feed children during COVID simply vanished into thin air, or more precisely, into a mix of luxury purchases and far-flung wire transfers. Fifty-six criminal convictions later, the staggering scope of theft left prosecutors describing an “immense” network of fake companies, shell charities, and front organizations, all established for one reason: to drain state coffers.

But Feeding Our Future is just the tip. Federal prosecutors have spent years unraveling a patchwork of Medicaid and social program frauds. The numbers are hard to fathom—billions lost. One particular surge stands out: fraudulent claims related to autism treatment leaped from a few million dollars in 2018 to nearly $400 million within five years. The number of autism service providers multiplied overnight, far outpacing any plausible rise in genuine need.

Why would Minnesota’s autism rates among Somali children be suddenly triple the state average? Court documents describe how parents were courted with promises of monthly kickbacks for enrolling children in state-funded therapy schemes. Was it desperation or persuasion that led so many to participate? The reality is knottier. Behind audit tables and court filings lie real families, many of whom saw these offers blur into the background hum of survival and opportunity.

What sets this story apart, and has so many Minnesotans—and, indeed, federal agents—troubled, is the international current running through the fraud. Funds didn’t just buy homes or cars in the Twin Cities; investigators traced transactions through informal money networks known as hawalas, trusted by Somali migrants for decades. These channels, with little paper trail, quietly ferried millions back to Somalia, the land of many program beneficiaries’ birth.

According to law enforcement sources, it’s nearly impossible to tell at first glance which remittances are funding education and food, and which are lining the pockets of terrorist groups. Yet testimony from federal investigators echoes a sharp warning: “Every dollar that moves through these underground channels, Al-Shabaab is taking its cut.”

For officials like Acting U.S. Attorney Joseph Thompson, every new indictment isn’t simply another number; it’s another thread in a tapestry of criminal enterprise that’s proved stubbornly difficult to unravel. He describes the challenge as “immense,” a word that somehow feels both apt and insufficient.

The weight of this crisis is compounded by uncomfortable truths about politics and community relations. Kayesh Magan, a former state investigator, observed in a recent op-ed that nearly all defendants in these cases come from Minnesota’s Somali community. His candor, while pointed, gets at a broader unease. Former state senator David Gaither put it even more bluntly: “If you don’t win the Somali community, you can’t win Minneapolis. And if you can’t win Minneapolis, you can’t win the state. End of story.” That nagging sense of political paralysis, the suggestion that expedience has sometimes trumped vigilance, lingers unspoken in city halls and newsrooms alike.

With more arrests and shuttered programs, a response is beginning to take shape. But as fresh reports of fraud and illicit international transfers keep surfacing, many ask how it was possible for the losses to run so deep, for so long. Was it oversight fatigue? Policy loopholes? Or a collective reluctance to confront difficult questions head-on?

For Minnesota’s agencies and for the families who depend on these services, the reckoning has become unavoidable. The clean-up, it seems, will stretch well into the future—and as the facts continue to emerge, the lessons are likely to reverberate far beyond Minnesota’s borders. The ultimate cost of this fraud isn’t just in lost dollars, but in the trust and stability it erodes, both at home and halfway around the world.

In the quiet corners of Minnesota’s bustling cities, a storm has been gathering—one swirling not just with fraud, but with global implications that few imagined when the first reports of missing welfare funds trickled in.Welfare programs, those safety nets stitched together for the most vulnerable, have somehow become entangled in schemes reaching far beyond state lines. The story doesn’t begin and end with a few bad actors. Instead, it sprawls—a tangle of fraud that, according to federal officials, has stretched taxpayer dollars all the way to Somalia, placing money right in the pockets of the extremist group Al-Shabaab.Consider the Feeding Our Future scandal, if you want an entry point: over $300 million meant to feed children during COVID simply vanished into thin air, or more precisely, into a mix of luxury purchases and far-flung wire transfers. Fifty-six criminal convictions later, the staggering scope of theft left prosecutors describing an “immense” network of fake companies, shell charities, and front organizations, all established for one reason: to drain state coffers.But Feeding Our Future is just the tip. Federal prosecutors have spent years unraveling a patchwork of Medicaid and social program frauds. The numbers are hard to fathom—billions lost. One particular surge stands out: fraudulent claims related to autism treatment leaped from a few million dollars in 2018 to nearly $400 million within five years. The number of autism service providers multiplied overnight, far outpacing any plausible rise in genuine need.Why would Minnesota’s autism rates among Somali children be suddenly triple the state average? Court documents describe how parents were courted with promises of monthly kickbacks for enrolling children in state-funded therapy schemes. Was it desperation or persuasion that led so many to participate? The reality is knottier. Behind audit tables and court filings lie real families, many of whom saw these offers blur into the background hum of survival and opportunity.What sets this story apart, and has so many Minnesotans—and, indeed, federal agents—troubled, is the international current running through the fraud. Funds didn’t just buy homes or cars in the Twin Cities; investigators traced transactions through informal money networks known as hawalas, trusted by Somali migrants for decades. These channels, with little paper trail, quietly ferried millions back to Somalia, the land of many program beneficiaries’ birth.According to law enforcement sources, it’s nearly impossible to tell at first glance which remittances are funding education and food, and which are lining the pockets of terrorist groups. Yet testimony from federal investigators echoes a sharp warning: “Every dollar that moves through these underground channels, Al-Shabaab is taking its cut.”For officials like Acting U.S. Attorney Joseph Thompson, every new indictment isn’t simply another number; it’s another thread in a tapestry of criminal enterprise that’s proved stubbornly difficult to unravel. He describes the challenge as “immense,” a word that somehow feels both apt and insufficient.The weight of this crisis is compounded by uncomfortable truths about politics and community relations. Kayesh Magan, a former state investigator, observed in a recent op-ed that nearly all defendants in these cases come from Minnesota’s Somali community. His candor, while pointed, gets at a broader unease. Former state senator David Gaither put it even more bluntly: “If you don’t win the Somali community, you can’t win Minneapolis. And if you can’t win Minneapolis, you can’t win the state. End of story.” That nagging sense of political paralysis, the suggestion that expedience has sometimes trumped vigilance, lingers unspoken in city halls and newsrooms alike.With more arrests and shuttered programs, a response is beginning to take shape. But as fresh reports of fraud and illicit international transfers keep surfacing, many ask how it was possible for the losses to run so deep, for so long. Was it oversight fatigue? Policy loopholes? Or a collective reluctance to confront difficult questions head-on?For Minnesota’s agencies and for the families who depend on these services, the reckoning has become unavoidable. The clean-up, it seems, will stretch well into the future—and as the facts continue to emerge, the lessons are likely to reverberate far beyond Minnesota’s borders. The ultimate cost of this fraud isn’t just in lost dollars, but in the trust and stability it erodes, both at home and halfway around the world.