An improvised explosive device was hurled at a protest outside the New York City mayor's residence, and the NYPD has confirmed it was not a firecracker. Two men, Emir Balat and Ibrahim Kayumi, were arrested on the scene and remain in custody.
NYC Police Commissioner Jessica Tisch announced the findings after the NYPD Bomb Squad completed a preliminary analysis of the device:
"The NYPD Bomb Squad has conducted a preliminary analysis of a device that was ignited and deployed at a protest yesterday and has determined that it is not a hoax device or a smoke bomb."
"It is, in fact, an improvised explosive device that could have caused serious injury or death."
A second device is still being analyzed by the Bomb Squad. Someone built two of these. Someone brought them to a public demonstration outside the mayor's home and detonated at least one.
Fox News's Bill Melugin, citing three federal law enforcement sources, reported that the two suspects were arrested for throwing an IED "after yelling 'Allahu Akbar'" and that both are believed to be U.S. citizens.
Mayor Zohran Mamdani responded on X. His opening line was not about the bomb. It was about the protest:
"Yesterday, white supremacist Jake Lang organized a protest outside Gracie Mansion rooted in bigotry and racism."
He followed with boilerplate about city values before eventually arriving at the explosive device, calling it "even more disturbing." He then stated:
"Violence at a protest is never acceptable. The attempt to use an explosive device and hurt others is not only criminal, it is reprehensible and the antithesis of who we are."
Read the sequence again. A real IED was detonated at a public gathering outside his own residence. Two suspects shouted "Allahu Akbar" before throwing it. And the mayor's first instinct was to label the protest organizer a "white supremacist" and frame the demonstration itself as the primary offense.
The explosive came second. Literally.
According to Breitbart, NBC News initially reported that "two men were taken into custody after at least one of two devices was ignited during an anti-Islam demonstration," adding that "it was unclear at the time what the devices were and whether they were a danger to the public."
It is now very clear. The NYPD has confirmed the device was a genuine IED capable of killing people. The ambiguity NBC offered its readers was not caution. It was a cushion. When the suspects yell "Allahu Akbar" while throwing a bomb at a protest, and the immediate media impulse is to wonder aloud whether the devices were really dangerous, something other than journalism is at work.
Imagine for one moment the reverse scenario. Imagine a bomb had been thrown at a pro-Islam rally by someone shouting a slogan associated with white nationalism. There would be no hemming about whether the device posed a danger. There would be no leading with the counterprotesters' ideology. The story would be the bomb, the suspects, and the motive. Wall-to-wall coverage. Presidential statements. Hashtags.
Instead, we got a mayor who used the attack as an opportunity to editorialize about the people who were attacked.
This is not complicated. Two men allegedly built at least two explosive devices, brought them to a lawful protest, and detonated one while invoking a phrase associated with Islamist violence across the globe. The NYPD confirmed the device was real and lethal. No charges have been publicly announced yet, and neither suspect's background has been fully detailed.
But the political infrastructure of New York City activated exactly as it always does: minimize the act, maximize the grievance against those targeted. Mamdani didn't name the suspects. He named Jake Lang. He didn't describe the bomb first. He described the protest first. The framing tells you everything about the priorities.
Conservatives have watched this playbook run for years. When political violence targets the right, the conversation immediately pivots to whether the victims deserved it, whether their speech was too provocative, and whether they bear some moral responsibility for the rage directed at them. The actual violence becomes a footnote appended to a lecture.
Commissioner Tisch, to her credit, was direct. She confirmed the IED, named the suspects, and disclosed the ongoing analysis of the second device. That is what accountability from law enforcement looks like: facts, names, findings.
The question now is whether the legal system treats this with the gravity the NYPD's own assessment demands. An IED at a public protest is not a misdemeanor dust-up. It is not civil disobedience. It is not an expression of frustration. It is, by any honest definition, an act of political violence. The charges, when they come, will tell us whether New York's prosecutors agree.
Someone tried to kill people at a protest outside the mayor's house. The mayor's response was to call the protesters bigots. That tells you everything you need to know about who runs New York City and what they're willing to tolerate.
Former first lady Michelle Obama was nowhere to be seen at Friday's memorial service for civil rights icon Rev. Jesse Jackson, held at a church on the South Side of Chicago, the Obamas' own hometown. Her husband was there. So were Joe Biden, Bill Clinton, Hillary Clinton, Kamala Harris, Dr. Jill Biden, and California Gov. Gavin Newsom.
The Democratic establishment showed up in force. Michelle Obama did not.
This is not the first time. She was notably absent from the 2025 state funeral of former President Jimmy Carter. She skipped President Trump's inauguration. Both of those took place last year. Now, a memorial service for a man she personally knew, a man at whose kitchen table she says she first glimpsed political organizing as a teenager, and she's missing again.
The Obamas released a joint statement after Jackson's passing in February at age 84, following years of health struggles. The statement made clear this was no distant acquaintance:
"Reverend Jackson also created opportunities for generations of African Americans and inspired countless more, including us."
Barack Obama went further during Friday's service, crediting Jackson with laying the groundwork for his own political rise. He spoke of Jackson's two historic presidential campaigns and the message they sent to a young outsider:
"The message he sent to a 22-year-old child of a single mother with a funny name, an outsider, was that maybe there wasn't any place or any room where we didn't belong."
Jackson was a protege of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. He ran for president twice. He shaped the trajectory of Black political life in America for decades. And the woman who says she got her first taste of political organizing at his kitchen table couldn't make it to a church on the South Side of Chicago to say goodbye, as The Independent reports.
Michelle Obama has addressed her vanishing act before. She's framed it as an act of personal empowerment:
"One of the major decisions I made this year was to stay put and not attend funerals and inaugurations and all the things that I'm supposed to attend."
"That was a part of me using my ambition to say, 'Let me define what I want to do, apart from what I'm supposed to do, what the world expects of me.' And I have to own that. Those are my choices."
There's a word for choosing not to honor the dead when the dead shaped your life, your husband's career, and the movement you've built a brand around. It isn't "ambition."
The framing is revealing. Attending a memorial for a civil rights leader who personally mentored your family is filed under "things I'm supposed to do," a category she has decided to reject. Duty, in the Obama universe, is apparently optional when it conflicts with personal comfort.
Her repeated absences from events where she and Barack would normally appear together have fueled persistent speculation about their marriage. She has dismissed those claims:
"The fact that people don't see me going out on a date with my husband sparks rumors of the end of our marriage."
"It's like, OK, so we don't Instagram every minute of our lives. We are 60. We're 60, y'all. You just are not gonna know what we're doing every minute of the day."
Fair enough. No one is owed a window into a private marriage. But the question isn't whether she posts on Instagram. The question is why a former first lady with deep personal ties to one of the most consequential Black leaders in modern history chose not to attend his memorial when every other major Democratic figure did.
That's not a social media question. That's a character question.
The Democratic Party treated Friday's service as a must-attend event. Multiple former presidents. A former vice president. A sitting governor widely understood to have national ambitions. The message was clear: Jackson mattered, and showing up mattered.
President Trump, for his part, recorded a video tribute after a White House official said he was unable to attend due to scheduling and ongoing events. He acknowledged the moment even when he couldn't be there physically.
Michelle Obama lives in Chicago. She had a personal connection to Jackson that few in that church could match. And she chose herself.
There was a time when the left held up the Obamas as the gold standard of public service, of showing up, of using their platform to elevate others. Michelle Obama built a global brand on phrases like "when they go low, we go high." She sold millions of books telling Americans about the power of community and showing up for one another.
Apparently, that advice doesn't apply to funerals.
Jackson's relationship with Barack Obama was complicated. He was caught on a hot mic in 2008 criticizing Obama for the way he addressed the Black community. But when Obama won the presidential election later that year, Jackson was famously seen with tears in his eyes watching the acceptance speech in Chicago. That's what a complicated, real relationship between public figures looks like. You show up for it, especially at the end.
Michelle Obama has decided she is done showing up. She's told us as much in her own words. The question the Democratic establishment should be asking isn't where she was on Friday. It's whether a party that preaches collective obligation can keep celebrating a woman who has publicly abandoned it.
President Donald Trump called on Israeli President Isaac Herzog to grant Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu a pardon for his long-running corruption case, telling Israel's N12 television news on Thursday that the pardon should come immediately.
"President Herzog must give Bibi a pardon today. I don't want there to be anything troubling Bibi other than the war with Iran ... Herzog is a disgrace ... he promised me five times to give Bibi a pardon."
Newsmax reported that the remarks came just days before the United States and Israel, on Saturday, launched a joint bombing campaign against Iran, underscoring the gravity of the moment and the depth of the wartime alliance between the two nations.
Herzog's office pushed back, though carefully. A statement said the president "will examine the request according to the law, the good of the state, his conscience, and free of any internal or external pressure." The office added that while Israel is at war, Herzog is not dealing with the matter of Netanyahu's pardon request.
It also noted that Herzog deeply respects Trump's contribution to Israel's security and his position on Iran, but that Israel is a sovereign state that abides by the rule of law.
Netanyahu denies bribery, fraud, and breach of trust charges dating back to his 2019 indictment. He became Israel's first sitting prime minister to be charged with a crime. He submitted his pardon request in November.
Under Israeli law, the president has the authority to pardon convicts. But there is no precedent for issuing a pardon mid-trial, and the legal process of a pardon can be slow.
None of that changes the core dynamic: a wartime prime minister is being forced to split his attention between an existential military campaign and a courtroom. That is the practical concern Trump is raising, and it is not an unreasonable one.
Trump has called on Herzog to grant the pardon several times before, and Herzog has in the past disputed Trump's claim that he had promised to do so. The back-and-forth has become a recurring friction point between Washington and Jerusalem at exactly the wrong time.
The logic of Trump's position is straightforward. Israel is engaged in a joint military operation against Iran alongside the United States. Netanyahu is the man directing Israel's side of that campaign.
Whatever one thinks of the underlying corruption charges, the trial is a distraction from a war that could reshape the Middle East for a generation. A leader prosecuting a conflict of that magnitude should not be simultaneously prosecuting his own legal defense.
That does not require believing Netanyahu is innocent. It requires recognizing that the timing of an active trial during a shooting war creates a strategic liability for both Israel and its closest ally.
Herzog's office framed its response around sovereignty, saying Israel is "a sovereign state that abides by the rule of law." Fair enough. No one is disputing that. But sovereignty is a principle, not a shield against strategic advice from the nation currently flying combat missions alongside your air force.
Trump is not issuing a legal order. He is making a strategic recommendation to an allied head of state. The distinction matters. Allied leaders push each other on sensitive domestic issues all the time when those issues have implications for shared military objectives. That is what alliances look like under pressure.
The pardon power exists in Israeli law for a reason. It is a tool of executive judgment, meant to be exercised when circumstances warrant it. A multi-front military campaign against Iran would seem to qualify.
The joint bombing campaign against Iran now dominates the agenda for both governments. Every hour Netanyahu spends in a courtroom or coordinating with defense attorneys is an hour not spent coordinating with military commanders and intelligence officials. That is not a political argument. It is an operational one.
Herzog will face enormous domestic pressure from multiple directions. Israel's legal establishment will resist anything that looks like political interference with the judiciary.
Netanyahu's supporters will argue that a wartime pardon is not only justified but necessary. And Trump has made clear, repeatedly and publicly, where he stands.
Five times, according to Trump, Herzog promised to act. Whether that account is accurate or disputed, the pressure is now fully public and fully documented. The question is no longer whether Herzog will face this decision. It is whether he will make it while the bombs are still falling, or after.
Wars do not wait for legal proceedings to conclude. Neither should the leaders fighting them.
The House of Representatives voted Thursday to let President Donald Trump continue Operation Epic Fury in Iran, defeating a resolution that would have blocked the joint U.S.-Israeli military operation. The vote was 212-219.
The result followed the Senate, which blocked the same resolution just one day earlier on Wednesday. In the span of 48 hours, both chambers of Congress delivered the same verdict: the operation continues.
The resolution was introduced by an unlikely pair: Rep. Thomas Massie, a Kentucky Republican, and Rep. Ro Khanna, a California Democrat. It aimed to block Trump from continuing to use the Armed Forces in the joint U.S.-Israeli operation in Iran.
Several Democrats joined nearly the entire Republican conference in voting it down. Only two Republicans broke ranks: Massie himself and Rep. Warren Davidson of Ohio. That means the overwhelming majority of the GOP caucus stood behind the president's authority to prosecute the operation as he sees fit.
The Trump administration, and now a vast majority of Republicans in Congress, maintain that the president has acted within his authority as commander in chief.
War powers debates are a perennial feature of Washington, and they tend to produce strange alliances. Massie and Khanna occupy opposite ends of the ideological spectrum on nearly every domestic issue, but they share a deep skepticism of unilateral executive military action. That skepticism is not without principle. The Constitution does vest war-making authority in Congress, and the question of where presidential command ends and congressional authorization begins is genuinely contested ground.
But contested ground is not the same as settled ground, and Congress just settled this particular question decisively. Twice. The Senate said no on Wednesday. The House said no on Thursday. Whatever constitutional objections Massie and Khanna raised, their colleagues weighed the argument and rejected it by comfortable margins in both chambers.
The fact that only two House Republicans voted against the operation is worth noting. Congressional Republicans have coalesced behind the president's posture toward Iran with a unity that reflects both confidence in the mission and trust in the commander in chief directing it. That kind of cohesion doesn't happen by accident. It happens when the policy aligns with the threat.
Operation Epic Fury is described as a joint U.S.-Israeli operation in Iran, and while the specific details of the mission remain beyond what has been publicly outlined here, the strategic reality is straightforward. Iran has spent decades destabilizing the Middle East, funding terror proxies, and pursuing weapons capabilities that threaten American allies and American interests. A president willing to act on that reality, alongside America's most dependable ally in the region, is exercising exactly the kind of leadership the office demands.
The left's instinct on these votes is revealing. Many Democrats voted to strip the president of operational authority in the middle of an active military engagement. Not before it started. Not as a prospective check on future action. During it. The signal that it sends to adversaries is not one of democratic accountability. It is one of division, broadcast in real time to the very regime the operation targets.
Congress had its say. Both chambers spoke clearly. The operation moves forward, the alliance with Israel holds, and the president retains the authority his office carries. That is the outcome, and it is the right one.
A truck hauling 378,000 tins of Tucker Carlson's ALP nicotine pouches was stolen from a logistics facility in Southern California last week, and the company is now offering a $100,000 reward for information leading to the recovery of the shipment or the capture of those responsible.
The heist targeted a load of ALP "Drifters," the brand's latest product. Tracking showed the truck heading east until all contact was lost. The shipment, described as worth millions, is still nowhere to be found.
An ALP spokesperson confirmed the theft in a post on X:
"Unfortunately, this is true. A truck carrying ALP Drifters was stolen. $100,000 reward announced. Details coming shortly."
The details that have emerged so far read less like a smash-and-grab and more like a carefully planned operation. The driver who picked up the truck flashed what appeared to be authentic credentials at the logistics facility. Nothing raised alarms at the time. As the New York Post reported, it was only after the truck disappeared from tracking systems that the scope of the theft became clear.
The driver's true identity remains a mystery. Investigators are now probing whether the truck's location system was faked, a tactic that would suggest a level of sophistication well beyond opportunistic theft.
No law enforcement agency has been publicly identified as leading the investigation, and no charges have been filed as of the available reporting.
If you had to pick a state where a multimillion-dollar cargo hijacking would barely raise an eyebrow, California would be at the top of the list. The state has spent years cultivating a legal environment where property crime is treated as a social inevitability rather than something to be aggressively prosecuted. Proposition 47 reclassified a range of theft offenses as misdemeanors. Progressive district attorneys across the state have spent their tenures finding reasons not to charge. Organized retail theft rings operate with a brazenness that would be unthinkable in states where consequences still exist.
Cargo theft fits neatly into this ecosystem. Southern California's sprawling logistics infrastructure, with its ports, warehouses, and interstate corridors, makes it a prime target. When the legal system signals that property crime is a low priority, criminals take the invitation.
None of this means the ALP heist was inevitable. But it happened in a jurisdiction that has done remarkably little to make such crimes difficult or costly for the people who commit them.
ALP, for its part, is not treating this as a fatal blow. The company's statement carried the tone of a brand that plans to push through the disruption rather than be defined by it:
"And don't worry – Drifters is still coming. Delayed? Yes. Stopped? Not even close."
That posture matters. Carlson has built ALP into a consumer brand that draws heavily from his media audience, a base that tends to reward defiance in the face of setback. A theft that would send a typical startup into crisis management becomes, for a brand with this kind of cultural positioning, an opportunity to demonstrate resilience.
The $100,000 reward is significant. It signals that Carlson and ALP are not content to let the investigation run its course quietly. They are putting real money behind recovery and accountability, effectively crowdsourcing leads in a way that mirrors the direct-to-audience model that built the brand in the first place.
The immediate question is whether investigators can determine how the driver obtained credentials convincing enough to walk out of a logistics facility with 378,000 tins of product. If the truck's GPS was spoofed, that points to planning and technical capability that narrows the suspect pool considerably. This was not a crime of opportunity.
The broader question is whether anyone in California's law enforcement or political apparatus treats this with the seriousness it deserves. A multimillion-dollar cargo theft is a felony by any standard. But in a state where shoplifters walk out of retail stores on camera without consequence, the incentive structure for organized theft has been broken for years.
Someone in Los Angeles has 378,000 tins of nicotine pouches and thinks they got away with it. Carlson is betting $100,000 that they didn't.
Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick has agreed to appear voluntarily before the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform as part of its investigation into Jeffrey Epstein's network. No date has been announced for the interview, but the move puts Lutnick squarely in front of congressional investigators probing the late convicted sex offender's connections to powerful figures across politics and finance.
Rep. James Comer, R-Ky., confirmed the development:
"I commend his demonstrated commitment to transparency and appreciate his willingness to engage with the Committee. I look forward to his testimony."
Lutnick, for his part, signaled no hesitation:
"I look forward to appearing before the committee. I have done nothing wrong and I want to set the record straight."
That's the right posture. Show up, answer questions, put it on the record. In a Washington culture that treats subpoenas like suggestions and transparency like a trap, voluntary cooperation is worth noting.
The appearance comes after files released by the Justice Department under the Epstein Files Transparency Act showed that Lutnick had more ties to Epstein than were previously known. Epstein was Lutnick's former neighbor, and the released documents included emails from 2012 between the two discussing a possible boat trip to Epstein's private island. Other files appeared to show Lutnick and Epstein involved in inviting Epstein to a Hillary Clinton fundraiser in 2015.
At a Senate hearing last month, Lutnick acknowledged visiting Epstein's island in 2012 but denied any wrongdoing, NBC News reported. He also acknowledged he had taken the boat trip referenced in the emails. His account of the island visit was specific and detailed:
"My wife was with me, as were my four children and nannies. I had another couple with, they were there, as well, with their children, and we had lunch on the island — that is true — for an hour."
Lutnick had told the New York Post in October that he thought Epstein was "disgusting." He described a 2005 encounter at Epstein's townhouse in which Epstein made an inappropriate remark while Lutnick and his wife were visiting, saying nothing "untoward" happened beyond that. His characterization of his posture toward Epstein was blunt:
"So I was never in the room with him socially, for business or even philanthropy. That guy was there, I wasn't going 'cause he is gross."
The Commerce Department has echoed this framing, stating that Lutnick "had limited interactions with Mr. Epstein in the presence of his wife and has never been accused of wrongdoing."
Lutnick isn't the only name on Comer's list. The chairman also requested transcribed interviews for seven key witnesses, including Bill Gates and Kathryn Ruemmler, both of whom have come under scrutiny after the DOJ-released Epstein files showed their ties to the convicted sex offender. The committee deposed Hillary Clinton last week. Clinton reportedly said she had gotten to know Lutnick after his financial firm lost hundreds of employees during the 9/11 terrorist attacks, but that she had never met Epstein.
Notably, all of Comer's interview requests are voluntary. No subpoenas were issued.
That choice tells a story. Voluntary cooperation suggests the committee believes it can get what it needs without a legal fight. It also removes the excuse that witnesses are being "dragged" before Congress against their will. Anyone who declines a voluntary request does so visibly and deliberately.
The Epstein investigation is one of the rare issues where genuine public interest cuts across partisan lines. Americans want to know who participated in Epstein's network, who enabled it, and who looked the other way. The Epstein Files Transparency Act exists precisely because the public demanded it.
When the files started dropping, the usual pattern emerged: names surface, lawyers release carefully worded denials, and allies in the media try to contextualize the connections into irrelevance. But context only works when it's delivered under oath, not through a spokesperson.
Lutnick chose to walk through the front door. He volunteered. He sat for a Senate hearing and answered questions on the record. Now he's agreed to do it again before the House. Whatever the emails show, whatever questions remain, the posture is cooperation, not stonewalling.
The more interesting question is who else on that list of seven will follow suit, and who will suddenly discover scheduling conflicts that stretch into eternity.
Gates. Ruemmler. The names in the Epstein files keep surfacing. The American public is watching, and voluntary means you don't get to hide behind a legal challenge. You either show up or you explain why you didn't.
A federal judge struck down the Department of Homeland Security's latest attempt to require lawmakers to provide seven days' notice before visiting immigration detention facilities, ruling Monday that the policy violated a prior appropriations law prohibiting federal funds from being used to bar impromptu congressional visits.
U.S. District Court Judge Jia Cobb found that DHS Secretary Kristi Noem's revised order, issued in January, suffered from the same fundamental legal problem as the version Cobb had already struck down in December. DHS swiftly appealed.
According to The Hill, after Cobb's December ruling invalidated the original notice requirement, Noem issued a new order claiming that only funds from President Trump's Big Beautiful Bill would be used to enforce the policy at ICE facilities. The argument was straightforward: if the appropriations law forbids using certain funds to block congressional visits, use different funds.
Cobb wasn't persuaded. In her Monday ruling, she acknowledged the complexity of the funding question but concluded that the workaround contained what she called a "fatal flaw." The judge wrote:
"The Parties' arguments on this point raise complex questions regarding the technical details of DHS budgeting and the application of appropriations law that the Court finds difficult to resolve on this preliminary factual record. Luckily, the Court does not need to fully address those disputes to resolve the present motion, because Defendants' proposed solution suffers from a fatal flaw: It assumes that OBBBA funds are available for all of the costs necessary to promulgate and enforce the policy."
Cobb determined that the Big Beautiful Bill's funding structure simply does not cover all the costs involved, "including for the time spent in crafting the latest policy itself." In other words, DHS tried to build a legal bridge with materials that didn't reach the other side.
The core tension here is real and worth taking seriously. Congressional oversight of federal detention facilities is a legitimate function. Lawmakers have a right to see how taxpayer-funded operations are being run. That principle is not in dispute, and the appropriations law in question codifies it.
But there is also a reasonable case for structured access. Immigration detention facilities house individuals in various stages of legal proceedings. Unannounced visits by members of Congress, particularly those who arrive with cameras and press statements already drafted, can create security complications and operational disruptions. The seven-day notice requirement was an attempt to balance oversight with order.
The problem is that the legal vehicle DHS chose to enforce that balance keeps failing in court. Twice now, the same judge has found the same essential policy in violation of the same law. The appeal may change the outcome, but the pattern suggests DHS needs a different legal strategy, not just a different funding source.
Rep. Joe Neguse of Colorado, the lead plaintiff in the case, celebrated the ruling on X:
"Despite the Trump administration's unlawful attempts to block Members of Congress from conducting oversight, a federal court just affirmed in Neguse et al. v. ICE et al. — ONCE AGAIN — our clear right to conduct unannounced oversight visits."
Neguse added that he would "keep fighting to ensure the rule of law prevails."
It's worth noting what these "oversight visits" often look like in practice. Democratic lawmakers don't typically show up at ICE facilities to praise efficient processing or commend officers for difficult work. They arrive looking for ammunition. The visits are designed to generate headlines about conditions, treatment, and anything that can be spun into an argument against immigration enforcement itself.
That's their prerogative. But let's not confuse political theater with sober oversight.
The detail that lawmakers had printed out Cobb's December ruling, bringing it in hand to visit an ICE facility only to be turned away, tells you everything about how this fight has played out. Both sides are operating on principle and on strategy simultaneously.
DHS has appealed, which means a higher court will weigh in on whether the appropriations law truly forecloses every possible mechanism for requiring advance notice. That question matters beyond this particular dispute. The scope of congressional access to executive branch facilities and the limits of appropriations riders as tools for constraining agency policy have implications well beyond immigration.
For now, the scorecard reads: Judge Cobb 2, DHS 0. The administration's enforcement posture at the border and inside the country remains strong, but this particular procedural battle needs a new approach. Winning on appeal would settle it. Losing again would turn a legal setback into an entrenched precedent.
The right answer isn't to abandon the principle that facility operations deserve some protection from political disruption. The right answer is to find a mechanism that survives judicial scrutiny. Two strikes should be enough to recalibrate.
President Trump on Saturday offered immunity to members of Iran's Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, along with the country's military and police forces, hours after the United States and Israel launched a devastating joint air campaign against Iranian military infrastructure.
The offer came as Trump declared on Truth Social that many within Iran's security apparatus no longer want to fight. The message was blunt.
"We are hearing that many of their IRGC, Military, and other Security and Police Forces, no longer want to fight, and are looking for Immunity from us."
He followed with a line that left no ambiguity about the window he was opening, or when it closes:
"As I said last night, 'Now they can have Immunity, later they only get Death!'"
The statement pairs the carrot with the stick in a way that only works when the stick has already landed. And by Saturday morning, it had.
The U.S. and Israel carried out a joint operation dubbed "Operation Epic Fury," striking IRGC command and control facilities, ballistic missile and drone launch sites, military airfields, and Iranian air defense systems across western and central Iran. The attack began at 1:15 a.m. EST, with Trump announcing it in a video posted online just over an hour later.
The Israeli Defense Force said the operation hit over 500 targets using more than 200 jets, calling it the IDF's longest military flyover in history.
Trump also announced that Iran's supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, was dead. He said the U.S. bombing campaign could continue "uninterrupted" over the next week or "as long as necessary."
Iran's Red Crescent, according to Iranian state media, counted over 200 people killed and 750 injured during the airstrikes. Iranian officials also claimed that strikes hit a girls' school in southern Iran, killing more than 80 students. U.S. Central Command said it was looking into reports that strikes hit the school. Those casualty figures come exclusively from Iranian state media, a regime outlet with every incentive to inflate civilian tolls and manufacture atrocity narratives for international sympathy.
Trump's immunity proposal is not a peace offering. It is a wedge.
The IRGC is not a conventional military. It is a parallel security state, ideologically bound to the supreme leader, that controls vast economic interests, runs proxy wars across the region, and enforces the theocratic regime's grip on the Iranian population. Peeling its members away from the collapsing command structure is as much a strategic move as any airstrike.
Trump framed it in explicitly post-regime terms, The Hill reported:
"Hopefully, the IRGC and Police will peacefully merge with the Iranian Patriots, and work together as a unit to bring back the Country to the Greatness it deserves."
He went further, describing the scale of what had already been accomplished:
"That process should soon be starting in that, not only the death of Khamenei but the Country has been, in only one day, very much destroyed and, even, obliterated."
The message to the IRGC rank and file is unmistakable: your supreme leader is gone, your infrastructure is in ruins, and the bombing continues. You can switch sides now, or you can stay in the rubble. This is the kind of clarity that creates defections. Ambiguity doesn't.
Not everyone in Washington greeted the operation with the same resolve. Some Democratic members of Congress called for a quicker reconvening of the House to force a vote on a war powers resolution. Rep. Thomas Massie, a Republican from Kentucky, is co-sponsoring the resolution with Rep. Ro Khanna, a California Democrat. Rep. Warren Davidson of Wisconsin became the second Republican to back it.
Davidson wrote on X on Saturday:
"Surely Congress can be troubled with a vote?"
He added a sharper concern about mission scope:
"Surely any administration can define the mission? Or, more of the same 'as much as it takes, as long as it takes' in another place."
The war powers debate is a legitimate constitutional question, and it is one that conservatives have taken seriously long before this operation. The concern about open-ended military commitments is not a fringe position on the right. It is a core one. Two decades of Middle Eastern entanglement earned that skepticism.
But there is a meaningful difference between demanding congressional accountability and using procedural mechanisms to undermine an operation already in progress. The question is whether this resolution is about constitutional principle or about tying the commander-in-chief's hands at the worst possible moment. The timing suggests the latter camp has fellow travelers, even if the sponsors have sincere motives.
The broader Middle East is watching carefully. Saudi Arabia, Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, and Bahrain each warned they would retaliate if threatened, a reminder that the region's power dynamics don't pause for Washington's internal debates.
The immunity offer reframes the question facing every Iranian officer still holding a weapon. It is no longer about whether the regime survives. It is about whether they do.
That is a calculation every collapsing authoritarian structure eventually forces on its enforcers. Trump just made sure they heard the terms.
Khimberly Zavaleta was trying to protect her sister. The 12-year-old was standing in a hallway at Reseda High School in Los Angeles last week when a suspected bully threw a metal water bottle at her head. She was taken to the emergency room, treated, and sent home.
Days later, she collapsed.
Khimberly was rushed back to the hospital suffering from a brain hemorrhage. According to a GoFundMe page set up by her family:
"Major blood vessels in her brain ruptured, and she was rushed to UCLA Children's hospital, placed in an induced coma, and underwent complex emergency brain surgery."
She spent several days in a coma. Her family never left her side. At 3:30 in the morning, her heart gave out. The LAPD is now investigating the attack as a homicide.
The facts here are brutal in their simplicity. A child was struck in a school hallway. She went home. She died. And between the moment that the water bottle connected with her skull and the moment she was buried, the institution responsible for her safety offered little more than a press release, as New York Post reports.
The LA Unified School District issued a statement saying it was "deeply saddened by the death" and extended its "thoughts and condolences" to the family and school community. It then added that it could not share details, citing respect for the family and confidentiality.
Khimberly's friend and classmate, Dayari Diaz, told NBC LA a different version of the school's response:
"The school is not doing anything."
Students at Khimberly's school held a demonstration on Friday. They are not waiting for adults to act because, by all available evidence, the adults were not acting.
Diaz described Khimberly as the kind of person who made everyone around her better. She told NBC LA:
"We're all sad. Because she was the one who gave all the energy to us, because she was so happy. She was always happy. She was always smiling."
"We want justice for her," Diaz added.
There is a pattern in American public schools that should alarm every parent in the country. A child is bullied. The school knows, or should know. The violence escalates. And when the worst happens, the district retreats behind legal language and privacy disclaimers, offering condolences where accountability was owed.
The identity of the suspected bully has not been released. No charges have been publicly announced. No details about prior incidents, disciplinary history, or any intervention by school staff have surfaced in the available reporting. What we know is that a girl tried to shield her sister from a bully and paid for it with her life.
That silence is not neutral. When a school district says it "cannot share details," families hear something very specific: we are protecting ourselves, not your children.
The LAPD's decision to classify this as a homicide investigation signals the seriousness of the act. A metal water bottle thrown at a child's head with enough force to rupture major blood vessels in her brain is not a schoolyard scuffle. It is violence. The legal system appears to recognize that, even if the school district's statement could have been copied and pasted from any tragedy in any district in any year.
Conservatives have long argued that the breakdown of discipline in public schools is not a minor policy disagreement. It is a safety crisis. When administrators refuse to remove dangerous students, when behavioral problems are treated as expressions of identity rather than threats to other children, when suspensions and expulsions are discouraged because of disparate-impact statistics, the kids who follow the rules become unprotected.
Every parent who sends a child through those doors in the morning is making an act of trust. Khimberly Zavaleta's family trusted Reseda High School to keep her safe in a hallway. The school failed that trust in the most final way possible.
Her mother, Elma Chuquipa, told reporters:
"I'm devastated. I'm full of pain, thinking about how I will never see my daughter again."
The family's GoFundMe page described Khimberly as the "baby of our family" who "brought a special light and joy into our lives." She loved music, volleyball, and walks with her two dogs. She had dreams for the future.
"No parents should ever have to endure the loss of their youngest child."
They shouldn't. And they shouldn't have to beg the public for answers while a school district hides behind boilerplate and a police investigation grinds forward without public updates.
Khimberly Zavaleta was twelve years old. She stepped between a bully and her sister because that is what brave people do, even the small ones. Especially the small ones.
The homicide investigation will take its course. But the broader question will outlast any single case: what are American public schools willing to tolerate before they act, and how many children will pay the price for their hesitation?
Khimberly's classmates already know the answer. That is why they marched on Friday.
Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem revealed on February 26 that deep state operatives inside her own department secretly installed surveillance software on phones and computers used by top political appointees, including her own devices. Elon Musk's deputies helped her identify the culprits.
Noem told the PBD Podcast that DHS insiders downloaded spyware onto her phone and laptop to monitor her conversations and record meetings. Not outside hackers. Not foreign intelligence. People drawing federal paychecks inside the very building she runs.
"They had done that to several of the politicals, and so we ended up bringing in [outside tech] people … [and we] didn't have those technology experts here in the department looking at all of our laptops and our phones and recognizing that kind of software."
Breitbart reported that the agency's own internal tech apparatus either missed it or wasn't looking. So Noem brought in outside experts, with Musk's team helping trace who planted the software. The implication is stark: the people responsible for securing the department's technology were not the ones who caught the breach.
The surveillance revelation wasn't the only bombshell. Noem described stumbling onto a hidden SCIF, a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility, on the DHS headquarters campus. A room full of classified files that apparently existed outside the awareness of department leadership.
"I just found the other day a whole room on this campus that was a secret SCIF secure facility that had files nobody knew existed. So we just happened to have an employee walk by a door and wonder what it was. Started asking questions. We went there. There was individuals working there that had secret files that nobody knew about on some of the most controversial topics."
Think about the mechanics of that. An employee happened to walk past a door. Happened to wonder what was behind it. Asked questions. And what they found was a staffed intelligence facility operating inside DHS headquarters without the knowledge of the department's political leadership.
Noem said the files have been turned over to attorneys and that she is working to determine what exactly was being compiled and why it was kept hidden.
Noem also disclosed that she is investigating the movement of scientists between U.S. national laboratories under DHS jurisdiction and the China-based Wuhan lab. She said her department is working to reconstruct the travel records and collaborative work between American researchers and the facility at the center of the COVID-19 origin debate.
"I also have national labs under my jurisdiction, they [have] scientists that participated with that Wuhan lab. [We're studying] how they were traveling back and forth between each other, and working on those experiments."
This is a thread that Congress pulled at for years without ever reaching a definitive conclusion. The difference now is that a cabinet secretary with direct jurisdiction over the labs in question is actively tracing the paper trail.
Whether the scientific establishment likes it or not, the travel patterns between U.S. national labs and Wuhan are going to get scrutinized by people with subpoena-level authority and no institutional loyalty to the researchers involved.
For years, the political establishment treated "deep state" as a conspiracy term, something to be dismissed with an eye roll on cable news panels. Noem, who now sits at the helm of one of the largest federal agencies, offered a blunt assessment of what she's found since taking over.
"I always believed when people talked about the deep state before that it existed: I never would have dreamed that it was as bad as it is."
That's not a pundit speculating. That's the sitting DHS secretary describing what she encountered when she walked through the door.
Noem said the work of rooting out hostile actors inside the federal government extends well beyond her department:
"I'm still every day trying to dig out people who don't love America, not just [those] who work at this department, but also work throughout the federal government."
The pattern emerging across this administration's early months is consistent. Every cabinet secretary and agency head who has taken over a department has described some version of the same phenomenon: entrenched personnel actively working to undermine political leadership, institutional knowledge hoarded and hidden from appointees, and technology infrastructure that serves the bureaucracy's interests rather than the public's.
The real question is accountability. Noem has lawyers reviewing the secret SCIF files. Outside technologists have identified the surveillance software. Scientists' travel records to Wuhan are being reconstructed. These are concrete investigative steps, not rhetoric.
But Washington has a long history of revelations that generate headlines and then quietly dissolve into the bureaucratic fog.
The difference this time may be that the people doing the digging aren't congressional committee staffers issuing sternly worded letters. They are the people who control the building, the budgets, and the badge access.
Someone inside DHS thought it was appropriate to install spyware on the secretary's own devices. Someone staffed a hidden intelligence facility and kept it off the books. Someone facilitated American scientists shuttling between national labs and a Chinese virology institute without adequate oversight.
Those aren't abstractions. Those are personnel decisions made by specific people with specific clearances. And for the first time, the people asking the questions are the ones with the authority to act on the answers.