Monday night was date night for ICE Barbie Kristi Noem. She got all dolled up, grabbed her much-rumored boyfriend, Corey Lewandowski, and headed to the White House for a romantic… wait, no—a mandatory meeting in the Oval Office.
The lucky couple was there alongside Trump’s Chief of Staff Susie Wiles and Communications Director Steven Cheung; a double date with daddy Donald chaperoning. It was a two-hour debrief about the chaos and killings unfolding in Minneapolis. Some speculated that Trump took Noem and Lewandowski to the woodshed. More likely, he spoke to them about “the way forward.” And that’s what’s scary.
So is the return of Lewandowski. Yes. That Corey Lewandowski—Trump’s original 2016 campaign manager, a role that ended abruptly amid internal power struggles, sagging poll numbers and a trail of controversies, including a physical altercation with a reporter. What a blast from the past.
Lewandowski had previously advised Noem during her tenure as South Dakota governor. Given his unstately manner, one wonders whether he egged her on to shoot her dog? Now, both Noem and a pro-Trump super PAC had subsequently cut ties with him in 2021 after allegations that he made unwanted sexual advances toward a GOP donor—accusations Lewandowski denied. He later reached a deal with Las Vegas prosecutors to resolve a misdemeanor battery charge stemming from the allegations, however, and she re-engaged him shortly after taking the helm at DHS.
Lewandowski’s sudden re-emergence inside Trumpworld should alarm anyone hoping ICE might be pressured to de-escalate. The message of his return is not restraint, but status quo.
This fits a familiar pattern. In a nostalgic nod to the chaos of 2016, Donald Trump had brought Lewandowski back into the fold during the closing stretch of the 2024 campaign. Trump reportedly asked aides to “find something” for Lewandowski to do, restoring him to a senior advisory role just weeks before Election Day.
It didn’t last long. Lewandowski quickly rubbed Trump’s co-campaign managers at the time, Susie Wiles and Chris LaCivita, the wrong way. They didn’t appreciate his aggressiveness.
So Lewandowski has been hovering just out of public view thus far in Trump’s second term, embedded deep inside the Department of Homeland Security as a “special government employee,” a designation that allows politically connected figures to wield real power with minimal disclosure.
Since late 2025, he has effectively operated as a de facto chief of staff to Noem, shaping policy, personnel decisions, and even contracting. According to Axios, his influence has been substantial, and it’s expected to grow in 2026.
(According to today’s New York Times, an anonymous DHS official said Noem’s decision to empower Lewandowski has frustrated agency staff, because he is seen as “someone willing to fire anyone perceived as getting in his way.”)
Though he never landed an official White House job, Lewandowski has clearly remained a trusted enforcer: crude, loyal, and a useful roughhouser. Why do troublemakers in Trump’s world always get fifth and sixth chances?
Many observers interpreted Monday night’s late-night meeting as a rebuke; a sign Trump, unhappy with recent optics, was telling Noem and Lewandowski to curb the excesses of the immigration enforcement apparatus that has been playing out in Minneapolis.
But Trump does not punish unmanageable or brutal people. He wallows in them. Given Lewandowski’s penchant for aggression and overreach, there can only be one reason he was summoned: Trump has “found something” for Lewandowski to do, and my best bet (or should that be worst bet?) is that something is to help watch over ICE.
In Trump’s mind, the people running ICE need to be tough and aggressive. That includes Noem, of course. But she has one strike against her. In Trump’s mind, she’s a helpless woman. Her man will have to step in. And pairing him with figures like Tom Homan, the so-called “border czar,” only reinforces that pathology.
To add more fuel to a roaring fire, late last year, Axios reported that Noem and Homan had been locked in a bitter power struggle, with sources saying the two barely spoke and were openly working to undermine one another. Trump has long loved to pit rivals in his camp against each other—just wait until Lewandowski gets in the middle.
Lewandowski’s entire political career has been built on one principle: domination through intimidation. As campaign manager, he nearly normalized physical confrontation as a political tool. Aggression wasn’t just tolerated, it was celebrated—so long as it signaled loyalty to Trump.
ICE does not suffer from a lack of authority or resources. It suffers from a culture that confuses force with effectiveness and cruelty with control.
With Lewandowski in the mix, expect fewer viral dust-ups—he won’t be showboating on social media or cosplaying a stormtrooper like Greg Bovino. But he will almost certainly be an overzealous operator, and that means more of the same raids, the same detentions, and the same terrorizing of communities.
Lewandowski hasn’t suddenly become subdued or composed. He’s still combative, still disruptive. Those ugly attributes will inevitably filter down the ranks. He’s not going to tell agents to calm down. He’ll embrace Hegseth’s full-throated “warrior ethos.”
Putting himanywhere near ICE oversight is like putting El Chapo in charge of drug enforcement. It sends a clear message that ICE’s excesses aren’t something this administration wants to curb. They just want to manage it.
