Minnesota’s Nightmare: “It Only Gets WORSE”—77 Arrested, $300 Million Stolen, and the Toxic Truth About Fraud, Terror Funding, and Political Cover-Ups

If you thought Minnesota’s fraud scandals were bad, buckle up—because it only gets worse. Much worse. The state once celebrated for its progressive values and generous welfare programs is now drowning in a toxic swamp of corruption, deception, and outright criminality. With the 77th arrest in the Feeding Our Future scam, the numbers aren’t just rising—they’re exploding. And beneath every headline, there’s a darker story: hundreds of millions siphoned away, not just into luxury cars and mansions, but straight into the hands of overseas terrorist groups. Minnesota, it turns out, isn’t just losing money. It’s losing its soul.

Let’s rewind. The Feeding Our Future fraud, once pegged at $250 million, has ballooned past $300 million. Seventy-seven people indicted. Fifty-six convicted. And the web only grows. The latest defendant, Usuzman Kamar—a Minneapolis grocery store owner—was already banned from the SNAP program for suspected fraud a decade ago. He’s now accused of stealing $1 million meant to feed hungry children, using $200,000 of it to buy the very building where he ran his shady operation. Federal prosecutors say he claimed to serve over 300,000 meals to kids from a tiny store that could barely fit a handful of customers. Where did the rest go? Wire transfers to Hong Kong. Bribes to Feeding Our Future employees. Credit card payments. And, most disturbingly, overseas remittances that investigators say ended up supporting terrorist networks.

This isn’t just about one scam. Minnesota’s fraud epidemic has metastasized into every corner of public life. Autism center scams. SNAP fraud. Immigration fraud. Medicare and Medicaid fraud. Housing scams. Billions in taxpayer dollars have vanished under the watch of Governor Tim Walz and a Democratic administration that, critics say, is asleep at the wheel. Media outlets, bound by progressive pieties, refuse to connect the dots. But the dots are everywhere, and they paint a picture of a state in crisis.

Consider this: According to federal counterterrorism sources, millions of dollars in stolen welfare funds have been funneled back to Somalia, landing in the coffers of al-Shabaab, an infamous terrorist group. A confidential source put it bluntly: “The largest funder of al-Shabaab is the Minnesota taxpayer.” Every scrap of economic activity in the Twin Cities, every cent sent back to Somalia, benefits al-Shabaab in some way. For every dollar transferred out of Minneapolis, the terror group takes a cut. Ten years ago, Minnesota led the nation in Americans joining or attempting to join ISIS. Of the 58 cases, nearly half came from Minnesota’s Somali community. This isn’t about targeting one community; every group has its problems. But the sting here is that money meant to help the vulnerable—children, the sick, the homeless—is being stolen and weaponized against the very society that gave it.

How did we get here? The Feeding Our Future scandal is a masterclass in how easy it is to steal hundreds of millions from a system built on trust and goodwill. The state’s welfare regime, one of the most generous in the country, became an open buffet for fraudsters. Investigators tracked money transfers from American nonprofits directly into the hands of al-Shabaab networks. Whether the original intent was innocent or not, the terrorist group was always there to skim its share.

The latest indictment is just the tip of the iceberg. Usuzman Kamar’s story is emblematic. Disqualified from SNAP for fraud, he reinvented himself as a pandemic hero, claiming to feed hundreds of thousands of children. In reality, he was lining his pockets and sending money overseas. When NPR interviewed him in 2020, he was lauded for defending his store during the George Floyd riots. Now, federal agents are seizing his assets, trying to claw back what little remains of the stolen millions. But most of the money is gone—wired abroad, lost in shell companies, or spent on bribes and luxuries.

The Feeding Our Future worker who allegedly pocketed $87,000 in bribes? She fled to Somalia before the indictments dropped. She’s just one of dozens of defendants who slipped through the cracks, leaving prosecutors scrambling to keep up. And for every person charged, there are more suspected but not yet indicted. The US attorney’s office admits the investigation is far from over. More frauds are being uncovered every week, from autism centers to housing programs. The question isn’t when this ends—it’s how deep it goes.

If you’re searching for accountability, good luck. Democratic officials overseeing the welfare regime are silent, hoping the storm will pass. Media outlets tiptoe around the story, afraid to offend or disrupt the narrative. Meanwhile, the taxpayers who funded these programs are left holding the bag, watching their money disappear into a black hole of corruption and terror.

And let’s not forget the political connections. Congresswoman Ilhan Omar, a vocal supporter of Feeding Our Future, attended photo ops at scam locations, serving food for the cameras. Critics point out that her presence lent legitimacy to a program that was, behind the scenes, bleeding money into criminal hands. No children in the photos, just politicians and plates of food. The optics were perfect; the reality, rotten.

Minnesota’s fraud crisis is a study in toxic governance. Billions have been stolen, and the state is now infamous for funding overseas terrorism. Investigators trace the money, but every trail leads to new layers of deception. Karns, a federal investigator, tracked remittances to Somalia, confirming through human sources that significant funds were reaching al-Shabaab. Whether the money was intended for terror or not, the group always took its cut. “Every cent sent back to Somalia benefits al-Shabaab in some way,” said a former official. The ties between Minnesota’s Somali-American community and Islamic terror groups abroad are well-documented, but rarely discussed in public. Homeland Security reports show Minnesota leading the nation in Americans joining ISIS, a statistic that should have set off alarm bells years ago.

So what’s the solution? More checks? Tighter controls? Maybe. But as one commentator put it, “No new money until we’re using the current money properly.” The state needs to hit pause on new programs, clean up the ones it already has, and demand real accountability from every official, nonprofit, and contractor involved. Until then, every dollar spent is a gamble—will it help a child, or fund a terrorist?

The public is furious. Online forums are ablaze with demands for transparency, justice, and reform. “How do we stop this?” people ask. “Is this just about more paperwork, or do we need to tear down the whole system and start over?” The answers aren’t simple, but the outrage is real. Minnesota’s reputation is in tatters, and every new arrest is another nail in the coffin of public trust.

The Feeding Our Future scandal is more than just a headline—it’s a warning. When systems built on trust fail, when oversight is lax and accountability is absent, the consequences are catastrophic. Minnesota’s fraud epidemic is a toxic cocktail of greed, incompetence, and political cowardice. The victims aren’t just the taxpayers; they’re the children who went hungry, the sick denied care, the homeless left out in the cold. And every stolen dollar that ends up in the hands of terrorists is a betrayal of everything the state once stood for.

As the investigation grinds on, one thing is clear: it only gets worse. More arrests. More indictments. More money lost. The Feeding Our Future scam is just the beginning. Minnesota’s toxic nightmare is far from over, and until the state faces the truth head-on, the cycle will continue—fraudsters will thrive, terrorists will profit, and the people will pay the price.

So what’s next? Will Minnesota finally clean house, or will the toxic legacy of fraud and terror funding define the state for years to come? The answer, for now, is buried beneath layers of denial, political spin, and fear. But as the arrests mount and the scandals unravel, one message rings out: Minnesota, it only gets worse. And unless something changes, the worst is yet to come.