Latest news with #Trump-world
Yahoo
3 days ago
- General
- Yahoo
Victims' lawsuits show FBI and DOJ's focus on Epstein files misses the mark
On Thursday, a woman named Maria Farmer filed a lawsuit against the federal government that begins with a paragraph both familiar and chilling: 'For nearly a quarter of a century,' Farmer charges, Jeffrey Epstein got away with a 'wide-ranging sex trafficking venture' in which she was one of hundreds of victims. And worse, Farmer alleges, the high-profile financier was able to do so because the FBI, Justice Department and United States Attorneys' offices 'failed to listen to or protect his sex-trafficked, sexually abused, and sexually exploited victims.' Indeed, Farmer alleges that she first reported to the FBI that she was sexually assaulted by Epstein and his partner Ghislaine Maxwell in 1996, that she told the agent that Epstein had also committed 'multiple serious sex crimes' against other girls and young women, including one of her minor sisters; that Epstein had stolen and transported across state lines nude and partially nude pictures of both of her minor sisters; and that, with others, Epstein was producing and distributing content that could constitute child pornography. (In 2022, Maxwell was sentenced to 20 years in prison after a jury convicted her of multiple sex trafficking-related charges; she is currently serving her sentence in a Tallahassee, Florida, federal prison and recently asked the Supreme Court to overturn her conviction.) Nonetheless, Farmer alleges, the FBI agent hung up on her and never followed up, leaving Epstein to 'exponentially" multiply his abuse and trafficking of girls and young women over the ensuing decades. (The FBI declined NBC News' request for comment on the lawsuit, citing its standard practice of not commenting on litigation.) In some respects, Farmer's lawsuit is not news. That she and her sisters were both victimized by Epstein and allegedly ignored by federal authorities has been reported for years. Nor is she the first Epstein victim to sue the federal government for its alleged failure to protect them from his manipulation, abuse and threats. Another similar suit now features 28 plaintiffs who accuse the FBI of 'gross negligence and reckless indifference' to Epstein and his associates' sexual abuse and trafficking of them and others for two decades. These lawsuits also seem unlikely to succeed for several reasons, including but not limited to the plaintiffs' sheer delay in bringing them. But the existence of Farmer's and others' suits, and the plaintiffs' collective demand that the FBI right its wrongs, demands our attention. That's especially true because what the victims seem to most want from the FBI — accountability for their ongoing trauma and internal reform to ensure something like the Epstein saga never recurs — contrasts with the growing MAGA-world hunger for more information about Epstein's crimes, his co-conspirators and his suicide, which many in Trump-world have baselessly alleged was actually a murder. That pressure has been escalating since February, when Attorney General Pam Bondi released a couple hundred pages of documents, most of which had already been disclosed publicly. The February release spurred many — including Bondi herself — to angrily accuse the FBI of concealing relevant records and/or to continue speculating about which famous or otherwise distinguished Americans were complicit in Epstein's sex trafficking ring. Republicans were not the only disappointed audience; Rep. Dan Goldman, a prominent New York Democrat and Donald Trump critic, characterized the release as 'a ham-handed attempt to gaslight the American people' while asking whether Trump, who knew and socialized with Epstein long before entering political life, 'intervened to prevent the public release of the Epstein files in order to hide his own embarrassing and potentially criminal conduct.' In early May, Bondi told reporters that the FBI was 'diligently' going through 'tens of thousands of videos of Epstein with children or child porn' involving 'hundreds of victims' whose identities would need to be protected in any release of such materials. Yet Bondi remains under scrutiny by other Trump allies who either doubt that she has such records, including because of a belief that prior Justice Department officials have destroyed them, or because they're simply impatient to learn whether Epstein had ties to the U.S. government or 'specific intelligence agencies.' And in the meantime, to apparently relieve some of the Epstein-related anxiety, FBI Deputy Director Dan Bongino himself pledged last week to release surveillance video from the Manhattan federal jail where Epstein died, which both Bongino and FBI Director Kash Patel now say demonstrate that Epstein was alone in his cell that night and therefore died of suicide. But from the victims' perspective, of course, how Epstein died, much less how he lived, is a secondary, if not needlessly salacious, detail. From their own experiences, they know what he did, to whom and with whom. What the victims deserve — beyond the continued privacy to which Bondi rightfully has said they are entitled — is not an 'all hands on deck' review, redaction, and possible release of sickening videos or Epstein case file documents by agents who've been diverted from national security matters. What they deserve is a DOJ and an FBI willing to examine and reform their own procedures for handling sexual assault and trafficking reports. After all, it's been more than two years since Farmer's lawyer wrote the FBI and DOJ a 15-page letter asking for "a comprehensive investigation to determine why there was and remains such abject failure to timely investigate, expose, and prosecute this unprecedented, decades-long criminal conspiracy." That kind of internal investigation and reform may not satiate those still poring over Epstein's little black book — but it would get closer to real justice for his victims. This article was originally published on
Time of India
7 days ago
- Politics
- Time of India
Bernard Kerik: A life of highs, lows, and legacy
Bernard Kerik, the former NYPD Commissioner who became a national figure after 9/11, has passed away at the age of 69. He died on May 29, 2025, after a private illness. His death was confirmed by FBI Director Kash Patel, who called him 'a warrior, a patriot, and one of the most courageous public servants this country has ever known. ' For anyone who remembers those chaotic days after the Twin Towers fell, Kerik was one of the most visible, steadying forces on the ground. — Kash_Patel (@Kash_Patel) Kerik's story is straight out of a movie—except this one had some serious plot twists. Born in Newark, New Jersey, and raised in Paterson, his early life didn't scream 'future NYPD top brass.' He dropped out of high school, joined the U.S. Army, and served as a military policeman. After returning, he made his way into law enforcement, working his way up the ladder. In 2000, then-Mayor Rudy Giuliani tapped Kerik to lead the NYPD. Just a year later, he found himself at the heart of one of America's darkest moments: September 11, 2001. Kerik was everywhere—organizing rescue efforts, comforting New Yorkers, and showing up where leadership was needed most. His grit and presence during that time earned him medals, honors, and global recognition. But life doesn't always stay golden. Kerik's rise was followed by a hard fall. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Giao dịch CFD với công nghệ và tốc độ tốt hơn IC Markets Đăng ký Undo In 2009, he pleaded guilty to multiple felony charges, including tax fraud and lying to the feds. Turns out, he'd accepted free home renovations from a construction firm linked to organized crime. That misstep—and a few others—landed him in federal prison for nearly four years. It was a major fall from grace for someone once considered for a cabinet position in the Bush administration. Then came the comeback—or at least the attempt at one. In 2020, President Donald Trump gave Kerik a full pardon, wiping the slate clean in the legal sense, but not in the eyes of everyone. After his release, Kerik didn't exactly keep a low profile. He threw himself into Trump-world politics and backed Trump's baseless claims of election fraud in 2020. He was part of the post-election noise trying to overturn the results, which drew plenty of side-eye—even from some who once supported him. Still, Kerik wasn't just a headline or a scandal. He wrote a memoir, 'From Jailer to Jailed,' that detailed his dramatic rise, his very public fall, and his thoughts on America's justice system. He spoke about accountability, redemption, and what it's like to go from calling the shots at Rikers Island to serving time behind bars. His death has sparked all kinds of reactions online. One user wrote, 'Bernard Kerik showed real courage on 9/11—no denying that. He led with grit, saved lives, and earned respect during one of NYC's darkest hours. But honoring that bravery doesn't mean ignoring the rest… True accountability means recognizing both the man who ran into danger and the one who later betrayed public trust.' Another posted a much warmer tribute: 'That was beautiful. Bernard Kerik was a man who made a difference for us all. Through decades. A man from when men were men… He will be missed.' And that really sums it up. Kerik's legacy is complicated. On one hand, he's the guy who stepped up when New York needed him most, a strong figure in a sea of chaos after the towers came down. On the other, he's a cautionary tale about power, ethics, and the fallibility of even the most celebrated public servants. People will remember him for his bravery, sure—but they'll also remember the prison sentence, the pardon, and the politics. As New York reflects on Bernard Kerik's life, there's no neat way to package his story. It's human, and it's real. He lived big, made massive contributions, and made some serious mistakes. Maybe that's what makes his story resonate—he was heroic, flawed, and unapologetically complex. And whether you see him as a fallen hero, a redeemed man, or something in between, there's no doubt Bernard Kerik left a mark.
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First Post
29-05-2025
- Politics
- First Post
Trump on pardon spree again: Why he defies political gravity
By using pardons to reward allies, punish opponents, and project power, Donald Trump is reshaping the meaning of presidential mercy—and facing little political consequence for it read more President Donald Trump's latest wave of pardons shows he is not only continuing but intensifying a strategy from his first term: using pardons as both a reward for supporters and a tool to show his power. In the last days of May 2025, Trump issued numerous pardon and shorter prison sentences (commutations) to people like political allies, rich donors, famous people and others who support his views. Some of the people Trump pardoned included former Representative Michael Grimm (who was convicted of tax evasion), rapper NBA YoungBoy (who was convicted on gun and drug charges), former Connecticut Governor John Rowland and others connected to Trump's political world or causes. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD This unapologetic use of presidential power shows that Trump pays scant regard to political gravity and seems to face few consequences for it. His actions don't just repeat what he did before—they go further. They show that being loyal or useful to Trump may matter more for getting a pardon than showing regret, being rehabilitated, or having a fair reason. Constitutional muscle of presidential mercy The US Constitution grants presidents sweeping clemency powers: Article II, Section 2 allows the president to 'grant reprieves and pardons for offences against the United States, except in cases of impeachment'. There are no required procedures or oversight mechanisms—no Congressional veto, no judicial review. Traditionally, this power is exercised with great caution, often following a lengthy review process via the Department of Justice's Office of the Pardon Attorney. Historically, presidents have reserved controversial pardons for the final days of their terms attempting to insulate themselves from political fallout. Gerald Ford's pardon of Richard Nixon in 1974, Bill Clinton's pardon of financier Marc Rich in 2001 and even Joe Biden's preemptive clemency for his son and political allies fall into this pattern. Trump has shattered that precedent. Trump's current use of pardons shows almost no regard for this tradition. He is not only issuing pardons mid-term and in full public view, but he is doing so repeatedly, even defiantly, reinforcing a broader narrative: that the justice system is corrupt when it targets his allies—and legitimate only when it serves his interests. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD Allies, donors and ideological symbols This month's clemency spree includes a familiar cast: convicted politicians, conservative media personalities, donors and even reality TV stars with connections to Trump-world. Grimm, the former New York Congressman who pled guilty to tax fraud, had long argued his prosecution was politically motivated. Trump's pardon of Grimm was explicitly framed as a correction of what the president calls 'a weaponised justice system'. Former Governor Rowland of Connecticut, another recipient, was convicted of public corruption not once but twice, and yet Trump used his pardon power to rehabilitate him. NBA YoungBoy (Kentrell Gaulden), who was convicted on gun charges and involved in prescription drug fraud, also benefitted—despite no prior political affiliation with Trump—after lobbying efforts by Alice Marie Johnson, now Trump's 'pardon czar'. Johnson, herself a former inmate whose sentence Trump commuted in 2018, now plays a visible role in granting clemency, further politicising a process that once operated largely behind closed doors. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD Perhaps most controversially, Trump spared reality TV personalities Todd and Julie Chrisley, convicted of orchestrating a $30 million bank fraud scheme. Their daughter, Savannah Chrisley, who had actively campaigned for Trump and addressed the 2024 Republican National Convention, was reportedly notified directly by Trump during a phone call captured on video in the Oval Office. These examples speak to a pattern: Trump's clemency is most often extended to those who are part of his political narrative or who serve a function in bolstering his personal mythology. Whether it's a Maga-friendly sheriff, a wealthy donor's son or media figures aligned with his ideology, the common thread is unmistakable. Rewriting of political norms Most presidents fear backlash from granting clemency to controversial figures. Trump, however, seems not only immune to such repercussions but emboldened by the conflict they generate. This is in part because Trump has spent years reframing the justice system as inherently politicised—particularly when it comes to his allies. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD Trump's former interim US attorney, Ed Martin, now acts as his pardon attorney and recently declared 'No Maga left behind' on social media. This slogan, while clearly partisan, also implies a loyalty-based framework for justice. Trump, in this view, is not just a president but a protector of his political community and the pardon power is one of his most potent tools. In practice, this has meant pardoning over 1,500 January-6 defendants, many of whom were convicted of violent crimes against police officers. It's a radical act that has redefined what presidential clemency can be: not just an act of mercy, but a gesture of tribal solidarity. Public polling after those pardons showed overwhelming disapproval among Americans, with 83 per cent opposing clemency for violent offenders from the Capitol riot. But inside Trump's base, such moves are often celebrated as retribution against a biased state apparatus. Political capital and the cost of clemency One of the most striking aspects of Trump's pardon spree is the apparent absence of political cost. Traditional political wisdom suggests that using presidential pardons for self-serving or partisan purposes invites scandal, backlash or electoral punishment. Trump's presidency challenges this assumption. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD His core supporters remain steadfast, interpreting his actions through a lens he has carefully constructed over years: that he is a victim of 'deep state' persecution and so are his allies. When Trump extends pardons to convicted criminals who support him—or are supported by people who support him—he is praised for fighting back and the 2024 election showed he was not penalised for vowing to pardon those tried to shake up the democratic fundamentals of the US. This phenomenon is especially visible in the case of Paul Walczak, a nursing home executive who pleaded guilty to tax crimes. His mother, Elizabeth Fago, a prominent GOP fundraiser and Trump ally, reportedly used a $1 million-per-person fundraising dinner at Mar-a-Lago as a platform to advocate for her son's clemency. Within three weeks of the event, Trump signed the pardon, American media reported. The narrative here is not just one of corruption—it's the transformation of transactional politics into clemency policy. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD Blurring of mercy and favouritism Trump's use of the pardon power has increasingly resembled a rewards system—akin to political patronage. The beneficiaries are disproportionately white-collar criminals, political operatives, wealthy donors and ideologically aligned actors. This isn't to say every pardon lacks merit, but the merit appears secondary to the political message. In this context, the pardon of James Callahan, a labour union leader convicted of failing to report over $300,000 in gifts, reflects a symbolic outreach to traditionally Democratic constituencies. Trump also pardoned Ross Ulbricht, the founder of Silk Road, a decision that appealed to libertarian voters—a demographic Trump targeted during his 2024 campaign. Even the seemingly non-political acts—like commuting the sentence of gang leader Larry Hoover, months after Biden pardoned Hoover's deputy—carry an implicit message: that Trump can be as bold and even more magnanimous than his opponents. In politics, symbolism often outweighs substance and Trump's team appears well aware of this. Reshaping the role of clemency STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD More than any modern president, Trump has fundamentally altered the perception and function of clemency. Once regarded as an instrument of last resort, granted quietly and with grave consideration, pardons under Trump are now spectacle. They are televised, tweeted and marketed to constituencies. The elevation of Alice to the role of pardon czar—and her televised involvement in clemency decisions—reinforces the public relations nature of Trump's approach. When the pardon process becomes content for campaign narratives or tools of political signalling, it raises profound questions about the health of the democratic system. Limits of accountability Trump's latest round of pardons confirms what has become increasingly clear: political gravity, as traditionally understood, no longer applies to him. Most politicians would fear the optics of pardoning convicted felons, reality TV stars or riot participants. Trump embraces it, spinning each clemency grant into a statement of loyalty, grievance or triumph over what he calls a 'corrupt system'. If anything, his use of the pardon power has only intensified with time, extending from the mere absolution of crimes to the reinforcement of political identity. Each pardon sends a message—not just to the individual receiving it, but to Trump's base, his enemies and to the institutions he aims to delegitimise. Whether this strategy remains sustainable beyond his presidency—or whether it permanently redefines the bounds of presidential power—remains to be seen. What is clear, however, is that Trump has made the pardon a political weapon — not the first US president to do so but unlike many of his predecessors, he is wielding this power with unmatched boldness and precision, and so far, escaping any serious political penalty.
Hindustan Times
17-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Is Trump now the only hope for Sean ‘Diddy' Combs? Rapper's pals are reportedly trying to get him a presidential pardon
Sean 'Diddy' Combs, battling a slew of serious federal charges, including racketeering conspiracy, sex trafficking, and transportation for prostitution. Interestingly, now, Rolling Stone reported that people close to Diddy have quietly begun conversations with individuals linked to Donald Trump's team since the start of his second term. The discussions are said to be in the early stages, but insiders claim Diddy's circle is actively working to build bridges with Trump-world operatives. 'He's willing to do anything to get out of jail,' one insider told Rolling Stone. 'He's always been this way. He's always going to do what he has to do to get out of a situation.' ALSO READ| Meet Judge Arun Subramanian in Diddy's trial, who paid for his client's lavish dinner Diddy and Trump have both been 'unfairly targeted' by prosecutors; that's the nerve the disgraced rapper's plans are targeting. Both have faced sexual misconduct allegations they consider false, and they share a sort of kinship in how they've been treated by the justice system. So far, there's no evidence that Trump has been briefed on this or is trying to intervene in any way. Still, as Diddy's charges are particularly serious, some of Trump's most prominent allies are nonetheless tracking the situation closely. Meanwhile, Suge Knight, Diddy's longtime rival, weighed in, saying he thinks Diddy will 'be all right.' 'I still feel that Puffy's gonna be all right and have a fair shot at it, because Puffy didn't — he's not a dummy,' he expressed during a call with NewsNation. ALSO READ| Prince Harry alleges revenge reporting by The Sun over a Diddy lawsuit story He went on to say that 'I think he got some favours with the government. I think they're going to show him a little leeway,' and added, 'And if he gets convicted, Trump's going to pardon him.'
Yahoo
15-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Stephen Miller re-emerges as an ‘untouchable' force in Trump's White House
Outside of President Donald Trump, no White House official has accumulated more influence in this administration than Stephen Miller, the 39-year-old anti-immigration crusader whose brain and bare-knuckled tactics have been deployed to drive the agenda for the commander in chief. Not Vice President JD Vance. Not chief of staff Susie Wiles. Not anyone else. It is Miller, the White House deputy chief of staff for policy, who loaded up scores of executive orders for Trump to sign in his first months back in office — on topics ranging from the declaration of a national emergency at the southern border to dismantling diversity programs in the federal government and withdrawing the U.S. from the World Health Organization. 'Stephen is the president's id,' said one former Trump adviser who knows Miller well. 'He has been for a while. It's just now he has the leverage and power to fully effectuate it.' Democrats have long pointed to Miller, in similar if darker fashion, as the engineer of Trump's most audacious plans and tactics. Though he receded a bit from the spotlight during billionaire Elon Musk's ascendance in the first months of Trump's second term, Miller is re-emerging as a target for the political opposition. 'Stephen Miller is responsible for all the bad things happening in the United States,' Sen. Ben Ray Luján said, adding that Miller was the force behind 'some of the ugliest policies' in Trump's first term. This profile is drawn from interviews and text exchanges with more than a dozen White House officials, lawmakers and Trump-world figures familiar with Miller and his work. Even some of those who praised Miller in interviews were reluctant to be identified because they weren't sure what might anger him — or how the hard-liner might seek payback. As a staffer on the Hill, he threatened to turn activists on fellow Republican aides when their bosses did not line up behind his positions, one senior GOP aide on Capitol Hill recalled. 'Uh oh,' one senior White House official texted when notified that NBC News was working on a story about Miller. But Sen. Ted Cruz, R-Texas, who met Miller when they were both working to sink a bipartisan 2013 immigration overhaul in Congress, had no such reticence. 'I think he was an effective [Senate] staffer, and I think he is an exponentially more effective senior staffer in the White House,' Cruz said. 'I think he has been the chief architect in the White House of the president's extraordinarily successful efforts securing the border,' said Cruz, who described Miller as a friend with whom he speaks 'regularly.' Wearing a second hat as Trump's White House homeland security adviser, Miller has pushed novel policies to restrict citizenship and even legal residency in the U.S. One of the first executive orders he prepared for Trump, signed on Inauguration Day, would end the 14th Amendment's guarantee that people born in the United States are automatically citizens. Last week, he said that the White House is considering suspending the right of habeas corpus — a constitutional protection against unlawful detention — as the administration seeks to continue its deportation program. Like the birthright citizenship order and many other Trump actions, parts of the deportation effort have been impeded on constitutional grounds by federal judges. Miller's voice is the one arguing vociferously — and without evidence — that 'Marxist judges' are executing a 'judicial coup' by identifying limits on the president's authority. 'President Trump built much of his current political success by standing with the American people on immigration, and doing what others have been unwilling or unable to do: close the border,' said one top Trump adviser. 'There has been no bigger advocate of that in the history of the country than Stephen Miller. That, at its core, is why the president trusts him so much, and relies on him to a degree that is matched by very few.' That trust is a big reason Miller's reach extends far beyond the immigration policies for which he became famous during Trump's first term, which included separating migrant families as a deterrent to illegal immigration. Miller's deputy title doesn't do justice to the amount of influence he has in the White House. In a Signal exchange reported on by The Atlantic in March, Miller silenced Vice President JD Vance's questioning of a pending battery of military strikes in Yemen by asserting that Trump already had given the 'green light.' He has gained so much authority over such a broad spectrum of policies that Trump told NBC News' 'Meet the Press' moderator Kristen Welker in an interview that it would be a 'downgrade' if he appointed Miller as national security adviser, usually a high-profile and highly coveted role in any West Wing. 'Stephen is much higher on the totem pole than that,' Trump said. Trump 'meant it' when he said that about Miller, the senior Trump adviser affirmed. 'I don't know that there is any policy area where his guidance is not sought. The president might not always go with exactly what he wants, but his input is always listened to.' Miller's influence stems from sharing Trump's vision for the country, his fierce public and private defense of Trump's positions, and his supply of a steady stream of policies to implement the president's agenda, according to people who work with him now or have done so in the past. The former Trump adviser said that Miller, who came of age in politics during the tea party era, is more tethered to the values of the Make America Great Again movement than many of his colleagues in the White House. 'Stephen has broadened his lane, but it still centers on the forgotten man, the working man, Trump's America,' the former Trump adviser said. 'That's where he's coming from in all of this.' In that way he is like Trump: an elite who embraces populism. Miller does so with even more zeal than his patron, which may be surprising given his background. He grew up in the cozy Los Angeles suburbs, graduating from Santa Monica High School, where prior alumni included the Brat Pack movie stars Emilio Estevez, Rob Lowe and Robert Downey Jr. Miller, however, never had Trump-level money, and his family lost its home when he was in school, forcing them to move to a lower-rent area. Then he went to Duke, one of the nation's most prestigious private colleges, where he honed his conservatism before becoming a congressional aide. A staffer for then-Sen. Jeff Sessions, R-Ala., Miller was an early enlistee on Trump's first presidential campaign in 2016 and took over speech-writing duties and an immigration portfolio in Trump's first term. When Trump lost the 2020 election, Miller, who echoed Trump's lies about a rigged vote, turned his attention to founding America First Legal, a nonprofit that presaged the early days of Trump's second presidency by filing dozens upon dozens of lawsuits in cases involving immigration, education, affirmative action and transgender rights. Miller is not a lawyer, but his vision is what has driven much of Trump's legal strategy in the second term. 'Stephen Miller works around the clock to implement President Trump's America First policy agenda, and he is doing a phenomenal job,' White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt said. 'The president fully trusts Stephen and for good reason — he delivers.' Miller's plan coming into this term, said one person who has worked with him for years and remains an ally, was to overwhelm the court system in an effort to secure more powers for Trump. 'Stephen Miller has been sharpening his teeth for this moment,' the ally said, adding an assertion that he is the 'most consequential' White House official since Vice President Dick Cheney. Likewise, a lawyer who is close to the White House described Miller as a singular figure in the Trump orbit who methodically prepared to win more unilateral power for the presidency, and by extension himself, even at the cost of losing some battles. 'The courts aren't going to strike down all that they're doing, and, at the end of the day, they'll end up accomplishing more by flooding the zone,' the lawyer said of the mindset driving Miller and his policy team, which includes Gene Hamilton and May Mailman — who, unlike Miller, have law degrees. 'The content of many of these executive orders has his fingerprints,' the lawyer close to the White House added of Miller. 'You want to get something done in this White House, if you can get to Stephen Miller, there's probably no more effective way to get something done.' His symbiotic relationship with Trump requires — or at least encourages — a willingness to parrot the philosophically peripatetic president, even when that means reversing course on policy at a moment's notice or misleading the public, according to people who have worked with him. Miller is 'comfortable with misinformation to advance his cause,' said one senior first-term Trump White House official who praised his patience and intellect. Critics are more blunt, labeling his anti-immigrant rhetoric as 'propaganda.' While Trump has blocked refugees from most of the world from entering the U.S., his administration recently admitted several dozen white South Africans. The reasoning: what Trump administration officials call a 'genocide' against white farmers in the majority-Black nation, which codified discrimination during its apartheid regime. There is no evidence to suggest that there is a genocide. 'What's happening in South Africa fits the textbook definition of why the refugee program was created,' Miller said last week. 'This is race-based persecution. The refugee program is not intended as a solution for global poverty, and historically, it has been used that way.' There's little question that Miller is the de facto immigration czar in Trump's Washington — the man the president relies on to turn ideas into action. A week before Trump's inauguration in January, Senate Judiciary Committee Chairman Chuck Grassley, R-Iowa, reflected on Miller's primacy in an interview with NBC News. Grassley's committee is in charge of writing immigration policies for what Trump calls the 'big beautiful' bill designed to implement his legislative agenda in a single fell swoop. But Grassley could not say what would be in that legislation. 'The best place to get this answer is from Stephen Miller,' Grassley said. It was a remarkable degree of deference from a 44-year veteran of the Senate, who is third in line to the presidency, to an unelected Trump staffer who elicited more eye rolls than legislative achievements when he worked on Capitol Hill as a communications aide about a decade ago. Not every Republican senator is waiting for marching orders from Miller. Sen. Mike Rounds, of South Dakota, replied tersely when asked if he speaks to Miller often: 'Nope.' In early April, Miller was the featured speaker at a meeting of Senate Republican chiefs of staff, where he pressed aides to encourage their bosses to provide a more fulsome defense of Trump's agenda — including tariffs and the programmatic and personnel cuts developed by Musk's Department of Government Efficiency, according to a person who was present. Miller's wife, Katie Miller, is a longtime Musk confidante who worked on his DOGE team, and the couple has formed a close working relationship with the wealthiest man in the world. The Miller ally said Katie Miller has become a powerful force inside the administration, and that the Millers, along with Sergio Gor, the White House personnel chief, are the only 'untouchable' members of Trump's White House team. 'Stephen has always preached loyalty to the president,' said a second White House official. 'He is ruthless with bureaucrats being seen as disloyal to the president and his agenda.' It's hard to find an arm of the White House, or the wider administration, that doesn't have one of Miller's hands attached — or an argument that isn't phrased in his trademark bombast. On the first day of May, Miller strode into the White House briefing room to offer an aggressive defense of Trump's agenda — the 'America First' platform he primarily drafted and executed — amid public concern that its tariff plank was tanking the U.S. economy. Breaking from generations of evidence, economic theory and conservative orthodoxy suggesting that American consumers want cheaper goods, Miller lectured the media on his view — already articulated by Trump — that families would be happy to pay more for toys made in the U.S. than those made in China. Despite his zealously anti-regulation position at most times, Miller even appeared to embrace the value of safety standards that drive domestic prices higher. 'If you have a choice between a doll from China that might have, say, lead paint in it that is not as well constructed as a doll made in America that has a higher environmental and regulatory standard and that is made to a higher degree of quality, and those two products are both on Amazon, [then] yes, you probably would be willing to pay more for a better-made American product,' Miller said. As he spoke, the French cuffs of his perfectly starched white dress shirt poked out from beneath a dark suit accented with a silky pocket square. Miller's arguments, echoing Trump's almost to the word, quietly vanished Monday as quickly as they had materialized, when the White House announced that the U.S. and China had agreed to back down from their punishing reciprocal tariffs amid the threat of shortages, price increases and long-term damage to both economies. The heat had finally become too much for Trump to bear. No matter how much power Miller wields, he seems well aware that it is derivative — and that it can be taken away as quickly as a tariff if he stands even a step away from his boss. 'The president knows he won't leak,' the senior Trump adviser said. 'He knows he will be an unquestioned fighter for his agenda, and that brand of loyalty is what matters most in a lot of ways.' This article was originally published on
