WASHINGTON — Federal authorities investigating Minnesota Rep. Ilhan Omar seized the Democratic lawmaker’s phone and have issued more than a dozen grand jury subpoenas, including to some of her relatives, according to a person briefed on the probe.
The subpoenas were issued for a grand jury collecting evidence in Minnesota as federal authorities probe potential fraud in Omar’s immigration paperwork, said the person, who spoke on the condition of anonymity because they were not authorized to discuss an ongoing investigation. The investigation led to federal agents searching Omar’s Washington, D.C. home on Monday just weeks before the November midterms, in which Omar is seeking reelection.
The scope of the investigation into Omar is unclear, though Homeland Security Secretary Markwayne Mullin has suggested that authorities were examining potential crimes related to her family’s immigration paperwork.
On Tuesday, Washington D.C. U.S Attorney Jeanine Pirro said in a Fox News interview that “there are several investigations going on” related to Omar and that her office is also probing issues concerning the lawmaker’s financial disclosures.
“If there was a crime that was committed, it will be prosecuted,” Pirro said.
The search of Omar’s home so close to next month’s midterm contests that will determine control of the House and the Senate was swiftly condemned by Democrats, who accused the administration of targeting the Democrat for political purposes. Omar, in a statement on X, called the search an “attempt to target political enemies and weaponize federal law enforcement.”
“For 10 years, Trump has targeted me with baseless lies and smear campaigns. This is just the latest escalation in his campaign of political intimidation,” she said. “I will not be silenced.”
A phone message seeking comment was left Wednesday with a representative for Omar.
Though the Republican focus on Omar’s background dates back years, the search notably took place three weeks before the November midterms, in which Omar is seeking reelection. The Justice Department has historically sought to avoid public investigative actions involving a candidate within 60 days of a primary or general election.
Omar, who was first elected to the House in 2018, represents Minnesota’s 5th District, including Minneapolis. She is part of The Squad of progressive lawmakers who are a vibrant political force on the left wing of Congress but have also endured repeated attacks from President Trump, dating back to his first term. She was one of the first two Muslim-American women in the House and the first African refugee to be elected to Congress.
Using interviews filmed on rooftops at night in Tel Aviv, the documentary “NAZA” uncovers Israel’s brutal methodology of warfare in Gaza since the Hamas-led Oct. 7, 2023, massacre that took 250 hostages and killed at least 1,200 people. The testimony offered by these insiders is under the cloak of darkness, but the light it shines on the mass killing of Palestinian civilians is so harsh it burns the conscience. (The title refers to the Israel Defense Forces’ use of an acronym for the Hebrew term for collateral damage: nezek agavi.)
Israeli directors Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor, half of the quartet (with Basel Adra and Hamdan Ballal) behind the Oscar-winning “No Other Land,” secured one-on-one interviews with 24 Israeli intelligence personnel and soldiers, digitally altering their faces and voices while their silhouettes are framed by the lit cityscape. Sitting across from interviewer Abraham, they recount their participation in a military campaign that has killed over 73,000 in Gaza, according to the Gaza Health Ministry, and is ongoing. Used as an estimation of casualties — just put a number in front, “20 NAZA”— it suggests a battle calculation that has permitted the detachment of moral consquences.
One participant makes his need for anonymity clear: “Israel will put me in jail.” At the same time, there has been clamor for the exposure of these sources so they can be prosecuted for war crimes. The uproar over “NAZA” has also led the filmmakers to be called traitors in their country. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has threatened to revoke their citizenship.
It all speaks to the power of a well-timed movie, since much of the reporting in “NAZA” has already been published by the Guardian, a co-producer of the documentary, and corroborated by other news outlets. After its theatrical run, the Guardian will stream “NAZA” for free on its website.
The picture painted from the interview subjects, who occasionally draw sketches of weapons-screen interfaces on notepads, is of a computerized tracking-and-killing apparatus, culled from the surveillance Israel keeps of nearly every phone in Gaza. The system is augmented by AI that isn’t always accurate about a target’s presence yet is implemented with airstrikes. Eavesdropping on children is used to track a targeted father’s arrival home in a program called “Where’s Daddy?” As one person says, “You hack her phone and then kill her.”
What’s chilling about these interviews is how they don’t feel like whistleblowing but rather a fact-finding inquiry with available explainers who betray little affect or remorse, even when the topic of personal doubt arises. When one is asked whether this is genocide, the answer comes back, “Yes.” “NAZA” eschews probing for guilty feelings, though, because the point is to unearth a process of obliteration: how it works and what it looks like as implemented by the willing. “My role is technical,” a subject says.
In between these interviews are glimpses of the occasional Israeli news media snippet and at one point an archival reminder of the circumstances of Tel Aviv’s founding. But most insistently, the interstitial visuals are cinematographer Szor’s night shots of apartment facades in modern Tel Aviv: citizens at rest with their loved ones, working out or eating in front of their televisions. It’s a casual surveilling of placidity just up the coast from the atrocities we hear about. “NAZA” isn’t just tough-to-hear journalism, it’s real filmmaking, the visual juxtapositions getting us to think about who doesn’t get to enjoy a quiet evening at home, especially when remote war-waging starts to look like a goal-oriented office shift with a lunch break — or a video game.
Wherever you fall regarding the continued destruction of Gaza, what the filmmakers of “NAZA” make disturbingly clear is that the simplest machinery to spread dehumanization and death is happening now, easing its users into acceptance and rewriting everything about the moral cost of conflict. It’s stone-cold frightening.
Sean “Diddy” Combs has reportedly been placed in solitary confinement following allegations of his lavish federal prison lifestyle.
The action follows NBC News’ Tuesday reporting of detailed accounts of four anonymous inmates who alleged that the 56-year-old has been paying men for special services including massages, using a contraband phone and keeping an illegal stash of alcohol.
Combs is currently serving a 50-month sentence at FCI Fort Dix, a low-security federal prison in New Jersey, after he was convicted of transporting prostitutes across state lines for drug-fueled sex performances known as “freak-offs.”
Following the news, Combs was placed in a Special Housing Unit (SHU), better known as solitary confinement, a source told the outlet.
This is not the first time the disgraced music mogul has stepped foot inside the SHU. In July, the music artist and producer spent some solo time after getting into a prison fight, sources told TMZ and NBC News.
Allegations of Combs’ pampered incarcerated lifestyle emerged just as his release date moved up again, according to the Federal Bureau of Prisons inmate database.
He is now scheduled to be released on Jan. 21, 2028.
Sources told NBC News that Combs pays inmates to clean and cook special meals for him, including curry chicken, pizza and empanadas and that the hip-hop artist also receives Chinese-style massages.
To pay for this labor, inmates allege that individuals outside of prison are depositing thousands of dollars into the commissary accounts of those serving the “Bad Boy for Life” rapper.
One source told NBC, “This is not some normal s— you see in jail. This is some rich s—. It looks crazy, but again, it’s Diddy.”
The news outlet also reviewed footage obtained from inside the correctional facility which showed Combs using a phone, a prohibited item across state and federal prisons. Multiple inmates claim he uses it to scroll Instagram and view explicit nude content shared by an old girlfriend.
Two sources also say Diddy has access to a “jailbroken” tablet where he watches movies and documentaries, including “Sean Combs: The Reckoning,” the Netflix docuseries produced by his adversary Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson.
(After learning of this detail, the “In Da Club” reacted with amusement on his Instagram account, sharing an image of the article and stating in his caption: “coming to a prison near you”).
Other claims state that the “Mo Money Mo Problems” rapper is purchasing an antidepressant drug known as Remeron, or “rem-roms,” from other inmates and keeping a stash of smuggled liquor.
“Hell yeah, I drank with him,” one of the men, who recounted drinking Hennessy with Combs, told NBC.
Combs’ representatives on Friday claimed to be unaware of any actions taken against the rapper: “We have no idea that he’s there. And we have no idea when he’s exiting, if he is. BOP doesn’t share that information with us.”
They also shared a statement on Wednesday following allegations against Combs.
“The continued scrutiny of every mundane detail of Sean Combs’s life in prison has reached the point where the media characterizes ordinary prison life as news,” the spokesperson said via email. “The only real news is that Sean continues to serve his sentence within the rules and he patiently awaits the court’s decision on his appeal.”
The Federal Bureau of Prisons did not immediately respond to a request for comment on Friday; however, a FCI Fort Dix spokesperson on Wednesday said they cannot comment on the “conditions of confinement for any incarcerated individual,” nor can they “confirm or deny the existence of a corresponding investigation.”
“Like all correctional agencies, contraband, particularly cell phones, narcotics, and weapons, remains a constant challenge, and we continue to tackle the problem of contraband being introduced into our facilities,” the spokesperson said on Wednesday. “Inmates are not permitted to have access to cell phones, and all incarcerated individuals in the Federal Bureau of Prisons (BOP) who are found to violate the ‘Inmate Discipline Program’ policy are subject to sanctions.”
Last year, Combs’ was involved in a lengthy and public trial involving allegations of sexual assault and other violence. His former girlfriend Casandra “Cassie” Ventura and producer Rodney “Lil Rod” Jones lodged civil complaints against the music tycoon.
In July 2025, Combs was found guilty on two counts of a prostitution-related charge, but the magnate was found not guilty of racketeering conspiracy and sex trafficking, which carried heavier penalties, including a maximum sentence of life in prison.
I asked myself this question and then one second later I asked Google, because my phone was in my hand as it is 50% of the time, and 75% of the time when I’m not being social. I spend a lot of time alone, writing books that I hope will end up in libraries.
I knew there were many public libraries in L.A., and that walking to all of them would probably result in a trail that looked like a snarled nest. This turned out to be correct. The city of Los Angeles has 73 libraries. The county has 86. And Santa Monica has five.
So, I decided to simplify. I would walk about 15 miles from the Central Library in downtown L.A. to the Ocean Park Library in Santa Monica, and, since every trail needs a name, I would call it … the phrase “booking it” arrived in my mind. I crossed that out, and then I crossed out some other bad options, and then I decided to let it go and name the trail after I was done, which is often what I do when writing a novel, because you don’t really know what a thing is until it exists. With books, and with trails, and with life, the only thing we can ever be sure of is that our plans will always turn out to be wrong.
An illustrated map of the 15-mile trek from the Central Library in downtown L.A. to Ocean Park Library in Santa Monica.
Case in point: The day before the trail, I planned to draw some lettuce on my sun hat with fabric pens. I envisioned that on one side, the lettuce would be beautiful and perfect, and on the other side, it would be goopy and rotting. What ended up happening was that I drew two lovely romaine leaves, and I liked them so much that I stopped there.
As I said, I spend a lot of time by myself, and I imagined that walking this trail would be a solitary adventure. I’m currently in the process of writing a new novel, and since walking is so conducive to writing, I thought the trail would give me a nice big swath of time to ponder the fictional world I’ve created.
I was told that a photographer named Scott Strazzante would meet me at the Central Library at 7 a.m. I assumed he’d take some shots and maybe walk with me for a little while, and then we’d part ways. What actually happened was that Scott stayed with me the entire time. This caused me to see the two romaine lettuce leaves on my hat as a foreshadowing. I was one leaf, and Scott was the other.
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1. L.A. Central Library. 2.The Lodrick M. Cook Rotunda inside the library. (Scott Strazzante / For The Times)
But back to the Central Library. It’s a masterpiece. Maybe you already know that. In case you don’t, I recommend a visit. Scott and I ended up in the rotunda, surrounded by murals, and it felt like taking a quick trip to Italy. Although really, it was a trip through California’s history. That’s what the murals depict.
An important part of the library’s history is that people (or one person?) tried to burn it down. Twice. In 1986, there were two arson attacks, spaced a few months apart. Who would want to burn down a library? It’s still unclear, although the main suspect for the first attempt was an out-of-work actor named Harry Peak.
The route from the Central Library to the Ocean Park Library is so easy that you could do it without your phone. You walk down four blocks to Olympic Boulevard, then head west. At some point, switch over to Pico Boulevard and keep heading west. Eventually, you’ll veer off at Gateway Boulevard, which turns into Ocean Park Boulevard, and boom! You’re there!
If you do this trail, I suggest you bring sunscreen, a hat and an external battery to charge your phone. I would also bring water and snacks, although, of course, there are many places to get those things along the way.
As Scott and I walked down Olympic, I said hi to a few people we passed, and Scott did too. After one of these interactions, Scott said, “People must think we’re missionaries or something, saying hi like that.”
A woman holds a religious sign at Olympic Boulevard and Alvarado Street.
I didn’t respond. But as we kept walking, I wondered about the implication of Scott’s statement, which is that if you’re going to be nice to a stranger, then it must be because you want something from them.
Scott and I stopped for beverages at Rok Coffee & Tea at Olympic and Ardmore Avenue, which I highly recommend. They have a free photo booth! Without the booth! It’s a modern, open-air version. Scott and I took a selfie. The people behind the counter were exceptionally friendly. When we walked out, Scott made a comment about it. “They were so nice,” he said, kind of in awe.
The arc of this story, I would say, is that Scott’s heart melted more and more as we walked, and so did mine.
At the start of the trail, Scott kept stopping to take photos. Which, you know, was his job. But I was annoyed about it. I was thinking, Damn, I was planning to dream about my novel and maybe call my sister and now I have to wait for this dawdling photographer?
Internally, I had a quick chat with myself. I could either choose to be irritated, or I could choose to love Scott. By the time we took the selfie at Rok, I loved Scott. Then he told me about his life and I loved him more. Scott’s new to L.A. He moved down here from Marin County, but he’s originally from Chicago. He hates shopping. When I complimented his shirt ( which said “Lucky Brand” on it) he said, “I didn’t even see that.” I noticed he was especially interested in signs about lost animals, which I thought was sweet. “Somebody lost a cockatiel!” he said, jogging to catch up, because I hadn’t waited for him.
Scott ended up jogging a fair amount. “We’re making this light!” I shouted a few times, and he sprang into action. He was a good sport about it. Running uses different leg muscles than walking, he pointed out, and his walking muscles were tired.
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1.A Chevrolet van parked on Sherbourne Drive.2.Writer Swan Huntley walks along Olympic Boulevard.3.A jogger passes Love Psychic on Olympic Boulevard and Citrus Avenue.(Scott Strazzante / For The Times)
In other moments, Scott took the lead. He wanted to cross the street to take a picture of the Koreatown sign, so we did that. He stopped to ask people if he could photograph them, which meant that we had more conversations with strangers than I would have had alone. Scott made my solo journey into a social one, and by the time we cut down to Pico, I couldn’t believe there had ever been a moment when I didn’t want this awesome man to walk with me.
Here’s another equation:
Being alone + reading news headlines = I think the world is bad.
When I’m by myself for too long, scrolling through articles about the worst things that have happened recently, I inevitably start to think that strangers suck and that kindness is an outlier. When Scott said that us chirpily saying hi to strangers must have made them think we were missionaries, I thought that was sad. As the day went on, I realized I spend more of my life than I want in that sad place.
Near the intersection of Pico and Robertson, Scott and I met a guy whose job it is to change out the batteries on Coco delivery bots. He told us that Cocos are not autonomous. They’re operated by people overseas, who might never come to Los Angeles. After our conversation with this guy, I said to Scott, “He was so nice!” Scott said, “I know!”
So, you can see how our hearts were totally melted. Strangers, as it turns out, often don’t suck.
By the time we got to the Ocean Park Library, my legs were noodles and Scott’s T-shirt was soaked in sweat. There were five people inside. One was on a computer, one was sitting at a table, one was napping in a small chair and two were in larger chairs, charging their phones, with a bunch of bags laid out by their feet.
Inside the community-centered Ocean Park Branch of Santa Monica Public Library.
Thomas Alexander, one of the librarians, told me that people come to the library for all sorts of reasons. Sometimes it’s for books. Sometimes it’s for events, like the zine workshop they put on recently in the basement, which was very well-attended. And sometimes it’s to charge a phone or use a computer or just be quiet for a little while.
I asked Thomas why he became a librarian. He said, “I like working with the community.”
On some other day, this statement might not have made that much of an impact on me. But on that day, it did. Scott and I had spent the last six hours communing with each other and with all the people we met along the trail. I thought about Harry, the out-of-work actor who had possibly lighted the Central Library on fire in 1986. I don’t know anything about him, but my guess is that he was someone who had forgotten that he was part of a community. I wish that Harry could have met Thomas, who has a calm, sincere demeanor and big, brown inviting eyes that seem to say, Hi, I just want to hang out.
Or I’m projecting. By the end of this walk, that’s what I was thinking. I’d gone from being a one-woman show to: Hi, I just want to hang out.
Swan Huntley arrives at Ocean Park Branch of Santa Monica Public Library.
So, my plans were wrong, as they always are, and I’m glad. The original goal of inventing (discovering?) the Scott Romaine Library Trail was to inspire you to care about books. I ended up inspiring myself to care about what libraries are actually about: community.
