Thune, Barrasso Hold the Line as Schumer Courts Shutdown Crisis

Paul Riverbank, 1/30/2026Tense Senate standoff over DHS funding spotlights shutdown threats and fallout from Minnesota shootings.

John Thune, representing South Dakota’s stoic pragmatism, leans into the microphone, flanked by Senator Barrasso of Wyoming. Their team has drawn their own immovable line in the marbled sand: DHS funding, as they see it, belongs in the larger appropriations package. To them, piecemeal solutions are a trap. But Democrats—revved into motion by the recent anguish in Minneapolis—aren’t budging. Since the deaths during federal immigration operations, the city has become a rallying point. Minnesotans are no strangers to federal-local friction, but these latest incidents have cut deeper, particularly for leaders like Governor Walz. His spokesman doesn’t mince words: “Draw down the federal presence, get impartial investigations, and stop the punitive surveillance of our state.”

Senate staffers spill into the hallway, whispering about off-ramps. Senator John Kennedy, never one for minced words, tosses out a new playbook. “Why not carve out Homeland Security? At least let’s keep TSA at the airports and FEMA answering the phones until we sort this mess.” It’s not universal wisdom, though. Congressman John Rose takes ardent exception in a television hit, cautioning that splitting the package is just as likely to backfire. “You're putting air travel, FEMA, everyone in the lurch,” he tells the Newsmax audience, his hands slicing the air for emphasis.

It’s not lost on anyone that, for most Americans, these debates don’t begin or end with committee meetings or floor speeches. A government shutdown—partial or otherwise—seeps into daily life. Try navigating an airport after a winter storm with fewer screeners, or calling for IRS help in February. Minnesota, battered by blizzard one week and controversy the next, has little patience for political brinkmanship.

Then there’s the matter no one can escape: the federal shootings that triggered the crisis. Alex Pretti’s name is now spoken with the quiet grief reserved for stories that leave a state raw and angry. Attorney General Keith Ellison is blunt in public statements—Minnesota isn’t about to skirt its laws for Washington’s convenience. Local sheriffs, wary of lawsuits and licensing boards, echo his stance. Wayne Seiberlich in Isanti County summed up the conundrum: “If we violate state law for a favor, we risk our jobs and the community’s trust.” Even for the hard-nosed among them, there’s no easy compromise.

From the White House, Tom Homan paints his own picture—all cooperation, all common sense. “We'll reduce the number of federal officers in Minnesota just as soon as we see some actual collaboration,” he offers, repeating the line to city officials and reporters alike. It’s a careful dance, suggesting flexibility that, in practice, requires concessions many in St. Paul or Minneapolis are loath to make.

House Appropriations Chair Tom Cole is visibly exasperated at another press huddle. “They asked for this bill with cameras, with training, with budget caps—we gave it to them. Now it’s a problem?” his voice trails, frustration mounting.

Some insiders say the legislative path couldn’t be narrower. A senior GOP aide, not one for open optimism, likens the effort to a circus acrobat: “You’re not sure if it's impossible or just barely doable." Meanwhile, John Thune warns that splitting the package could “muddy the waters even further,” though privately, senators acknowledge everything is up for negotiation until the very last vote.

Out in Minnesota, and frankly everywhere else, the public’s patience wears thin. For now, Americans are left waiting for a solution—one that must bridge policy, politics, and the bruised trust of the communities standing in the crosshairs. Capitol Hill, as ever, keeps spinning.

It’s just past noon in Washington, and the Senate halls are crawling with tension—a kind that settles deep, gnawing at nerves the way only a government funding crisis can. The Department of Homeland Security is the flashpoint this time. Negotiators pace, voices rising and falling, but the impasse remains unresolved. The fiscal clock ticks loudly overhead.John Thune, representing South Dakota’s stoic pragmatism, leans into the microphone, flanked by Senator Barrasso of Wyoming. Their team has drawn their own immovable line in the marbled sand: DHS funding, as they see it, belongs in the larger appropriations package. To them, piecemeal solutions are a trap. But Democrats—revved into motion by the recent anguish in Minneapolis—aren’t budging. Since the deaths during federal immigration operations, the city has become a rallying point. Minnesotans are no strangers to federal-local friction, but these latest incidents have cut deeper, particularly for leaders like Governor Walz. His spokesman doesn’t mince words: “Draw down the federal presence, get impartial investigations, and stop the punitive surveillance of our state.”Senate staffers spill into the hallway, whispering about off-ramps. Senator John Kennedy, never one for minced words, tosses out a new playbook. “Why not carve out Homeland Security? At least let’s keep TSA at the airports and FEMA answering the phones until we sort this mess.” It’s not universal wisdom, though. Congressman John Rose takes ardent exception in a television hit, cautioning that splitting the package is just as likely to backfire. “You're putting air travel, FEMA, everyone in the lurch,” he tells the Newsmax audience, his hands slicing the air for emphasis.It’s not lost on anyone that, for most Americans, these debates don’t begin or end with committee meetings or floor speeches. A government shutdown—partial or otherwise—seeps into daily life. Try navigating an airport after a winter storm with fewer screeners, or calling for IRS help in February. Minnesota, battered by blizzard one week and controversy the next, has little patience for political brinkmanship.Then there’s the matter no one can escape: the federal shootings that triggered the crisis. Alex Pretti’s name is now spoken with the quiet grief reserved for stories that leave a state raw and angry. Attorney General Keith Ellison is blunt in public statements—Minnesota isn’t about to skirt its laws for Washington’s convenience. Local sheriffs, wary of lawsuits and licensing boards, echo his stance. Wayne Seiberlich in Isanti County summed up the conundrum: “If we violate state law for a favor, we risk our jobs and the community’s trust.” Even for the hard-nosed among them, there’s no easy compromise.From the White House, Tom Homan paints his own picture—all cooperation, all common sense. “We'll reduce the number of federal officers in Minnesota just as soon as we see some actual collaboration,” he offers, repeating the line to city officials and reporters alike. It’s a careful dance, suggesting flexibility that, in practice, requires concessions many in St. Paul or Minneapolis are loath to make.House Appropriations Chair Tom Cole is visibly exasperated at another press huddle. “They asked for this bill with cameras, with training, with budget caps—we gave it to them. Now it’s a problem?” his voice trails, frustration mounting.Some insiders say the legislative path couldn’t be narrower. A senior GOP aide, not one for open optimism, likens the effort to a circus acrobat: “You’re not sure if it's impossible or just barely doable." Meanwhile, John Thune warns that splitting the package could “muddy the waters even further,” though privately, senators acknowledge everything is up for negotiation until the very last vote.Out in Minnesota, and frankly everywhere else, the public’s patience wears thin. For now, Americans are left waiting for a solution—one that must bridge policy, politics, and the bruised trust of the communities standing in the crosshairs. Capitol Hill, as ever, keeps spinning.