The new Homeland Security secretary must prioritize results over optics—and make the mission speak for itself.
Just weeks ago, the author noted that “everyone in America has an opinion on what has gone right or wrong at the Department of Homeland Security.” At the time, restraint served a purpose but left too much unsaid. The mass deportation agenda remains central to Trump’s legacy, and Markwayne Mullin now faces the challenge of delivering on what the last year only promised.
The numbers tell a stark story. ICE has stopped releasing deportation data, and the congressionally mandated annual report remains absent. Third-party estimates suggest approximately 230,000 deportations in 2025—a figure closer to reality than DHS’s shifting claims of “hundreds of thousands” or “millions.” Instead of mass deportations, the department focused on television ads, memes, and inflated language designed to create the illusion of historic scale. The result? Antagonized media and activists without meaningful operational gains.
Trump World’s reliance on polling and media narratives backfired. A loud rollout without corresponding results gave pressure groups leverage over Republican offices in Capitol Hill. Delay became the department’s norm, undermining mission progress.
The appointment of Kristi Noem as Homeland Security secretary initially seemed strategic—but it created fractures. Operational leaders within DHS cultivated advocates for the mission, while Noem’s approach fostered division. Post-Minneapolis, Tom Homan rose quickly to manage responses, exposing deep rifts: “Team Kristi and Corey” versus others. Leaks, finger-pointing, and plummeting morale followed as internal conflicts intensified.
Central to the turmoil was financial control. Noem mandated her personal review of contracts over $100,000—a policy that bypassed agency heads and funneled authority through a small circle anchored in Corey Lewandowski’s “special government employee” role. Border wall contracts stalled for months; detention facilities like Cornhusker Clink and Speedway Slammer—announced with fanfare but built at higher cost and litigation risk—slowly expanded capacity.
Personnel choices exacerbated the crisis. Noem appointed a late-20s former Wildlife and Fisheries official as deputy ICE director, raising eyebrows among experts. Allegations of self-dealing spread, fueled by a $220 million ad campaign featuring Noem prominently. When lawmakers pressed for answers, she failed to restore confidence.
The hearings were brutal. Before both the House and Senate, Noem struggled to demonstrate leadership or address accusations of scandal. Her fatal error? Telling Sen. John Kennedy that President Trump personally approved the ad campaign—a claim later denied by Trump himself. The answer destroyed any remaining credibility.
Markwayne Mullin inherits a department bruised by internal warfare, low deportation output, and severe credibility damage. He has some wins—particularly restored southern border control—but must now address systemic failures.
The mass deportation agenda remains central to Trump’s legacy. Mullin has a chance to deliver what the last year only promised.
