More than six weeks after President Donald Trump removed her as Homeland Security Secretary, Kristi Noem is still living in a waterfront military home on Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling in Washington, D.C., a residence typically reserved for the Coast Guard commandant.
The Wall Street Journal first reported that Noem has been spotted coming and going from the property in recent days. The Independent confirmed that she continued to use the accommodation well past her departure from DHS, raising pointed questions about who authorized the arrangement and why a fired cabinet official still enjoys a military housing perk.
The situation matters for a simple reason: that home belongs to the Coast Guard, not to Kristi Noem. And the Coast Guard's top officer reportedly wants it back.
Noem originally moved onto the military installation after protesters and paparazzi discovered the address of her private residence in Washington. The security rationale was straightforward at the time. As DHS secretary overseeing the administration's aggressive immigration enforcement, she drew intense public attention and personal threats.
DHS Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin previously defended the move in blunt terms, as the Washington Examiner reported:
"Following the media's publishing of the location of Secretary Noem's Washington DC apartment, she has faced vicious doxing on the dark web and a surge in death threats... Due to threats and security concerns, she has been forced to temporarily stay in secure military housing."
That explanation carried weight when Noem held one of the most visible and sensitive posts in the federal government. It carries considerably less weight now that she no longer runs DHS.
Trump fired Noem on March 6, according to Just the News. After her removal, she was reassigned to a far lesser position: special envoy for the Shield of the Americas, Western Hemisphere. The role is little-known, and Noem now reports to the deputy secretary of state, not to Secretary Marco Rubio, a clear step down from running a department with over 240,000 employees.
Yet the housing arrangement appears unchanged.
Admiral Kevin Lunday, the Coast Guard commandant, currently lives in the home next door to Noem's. He reportedly told associates he plans to move into the house she occupies "imminently." The residence has traditionally been designated for the commandant, the service's highest-ranking officer.
Sen. Chris Murphy, a Connecticut Democrat, called the arrangement an insult to the uniformed men and women of the Coast Guard:
"It's a real insult to the brave men and women who are protecting our shores that she thinks that house belongs to her instead of to the Coast Guard."
Critics and former officials have argued that a civilian political appointee, especially one who no longer holds the position that justified the arrangement, should not be displacing senior military leadership from quarters built for them.
Noem's top aide, Corey Lewandowski, has been seen at the home over the past year and as recently as this month. He pushed back on any suggestion of impropriety, telling the Journal that "scores of people have visited Ms. Noem at the house in a business capacity." Lewandowski departed DHS alongside Noem after what multiple reports described as a turbulent tenure at the department.
Noem herself dismissed scrutiny of the living arrangement as "tabloid garbage."
Noem's removal from DHS did not happen in a vacuum. Her tenure was marked by a series of high-profile missteps that drew bipartisan criticism. Republican Sen. Thom Tillis publicly called for her dismissal before Trump acted, a rare move from a member of the president's own party against a sitting cabinet secretary.
In March, Noem faced tough questioning during congressional hearings over a $220 million TV ad campaign about deportations. The campaign featured Noem on horseback before Mount Rushmore. She claimed Trump signed off on it. The president swiftly denied that.
That contradiction alone would have been damaging. But it landed on top of earlier problems.
In January, Noem and other administration officials described Alex Pretti and Renee Good, two U.S. citizens killed by federal agents during an immigration operation in Minnesota, as "domestic terrorists." That characterization was later shown to be false. Noem released a statement at the time expressing shock. Democrats eventually sent a criminal referral against Noem to the DOJ over her congressional testimony related to these and other matters.
When Trump tapped Sen. Markwayne Mullin to lead DHS and moved Noem into the envoy role, the writing was on the wall. The reassignment was a demotion dressed in diplomatic language.
The housing question arrives alongside a wave of unflattering personal reports. Noem and Lewandowski have been accused of engaging in an extramarital affair, an allegation Lewandowski has forcefully denied. Separately, a report last week alleged that Noem and her husband, Bryon Noem, racked up millions of dollars in debt before their rise to national prominence.
The couple has been married almost 34 years and has three adult children and several grandchildren. Reports also surfaced that Bryon Noem sent compromising photos to female models online. His behavior was described as "an open secret" in Washington.
None of these personal matters directly bear on the housing question. But they form the backdrop against which Noem's continued occupation of a military residence is being evaluated, by the public, by Congress, and presumably by the Coast Guard officers who built their careers expecting that home would be available to their commandant.
Several basic questions remain unanswered. Neither the Department of Homeland Security nor the State Department responded to requests for comment from The Independent. It is unclear who authorized Noem to remain in the residence after her firing, whether the special envoy role carries any entitlement to military housing, or what timeline, if any, has been set for her departure.
Admiral Lunday's reported plan to move in "imminently" suggests the matter may resolve itself soon. But the fact that it has dragged on for more than six weeks speaks to a broader pattern: officials who accumulate perks on the way up rarely surrender them voluntarily on the way down.
Taxpayers fund military housing for military leaders. When a fired political appointee treats a Coast Guard commandant's residence like a personal apartment, the arrangement stops being about security and starts being about entitlement. The Coast Guard deserves better, and so do the people who pay the bills.
