THEY DIDN’T LOSE THE MONEY. THEY STOLE IT. (Explained by a Former Prosecutor) by Kevin Hayslett

This photo is what “successful programs”

An empty cafeteria.

A metal tray.

No food.

No children.

 Minnesota is asking the question.

The rest of the country is watching in disbelief.

Why is nobody in handcuffs?

I spent years as a prosecutor. Here’s the truth about accountability that press conferences will never admit.

Large government fraud doesn’t survive because of secrecy.

It survives because of routine.

No single signature looks criminal.

No single approval feels reckless.

Each step is small. Defensible. Boring.

 Fraud at this scale doesn’t look like a crime — it looks like a process that never gets stopped.

But make no mistake: this wasn’t an accounting error.

It was a looting.

 They didn’t just fudge numbers on a spreadsheet.

They invented ghost children.

They used the names of real kids to steal real money.

Right up until the money was gone.

That’s how nine figures disappear.

Not with villains in alleys.

But with meetings in conference rooms.

 And while they were writing checks to fraudsters for meals that never existed, you were scanning coupons for diapers.

 While they were laughing in those conference rooms, you were putting items back on the grocery shelf because the total was too high.

Every parent knows what it means to choose less for yourself so a child can have enough.

 Fraud doesn’t kick down doors in government.

It walks right through them.

With a badge.

And a calendar invite.

People think exposure equals justice.

It doesn’t.

 Exposure is just the moment the public finally notices what insiders already normalized.

And that’s exactly what happened here.

 Minnesotans didn’t suddenly wake up.

They knew something was wrong for a long time.

What they didn’t have was leverage.

This exposure didn’t begin inside government.

It began outside it.

 Independent reporting forced details into public view that formal oversight had left buried. Only after that external scrutiny did official explanations follow.

 That sequence matters.

Because accountability that begins after exposure isn’t prevention.

It’s damage control.

 Real accountability is the moment someone says,

“This stops with me.”

 In my experience, that moment almost never comes from inside the building.

Because government doesn’t prosecute itself by instinct.

It does it reluctantly.

Late.

 And only when silence becomes more dangerous than speaking up.

Look at the incentives.

Inspectors report up the same chain they’re supposed to challenge.

Oversight offices answer to the people whose decisions they’re reviewing.

 Everyone is “monitoring.”

Which means no one is responsible.

That’s not incompetence.

That’s insulation.

People think outrage moves cases forward.

It doesn’t.

Outrage fades.

Pensions don’t.

Delay is the ultimate defense.

Silence is safer than truth.

Time doesn’t heal scandals — it buries them in paperwork.

 That’s why investigations stall.

Not because nothing went wrong.

But because proving who knew what, when they knew it, and why they signed anyway is slow, dangerous, and professionally radioactive.

 The paper trail survives.

Responsibility evaporates.

And no — this isn’t just Minnesota.

Any system that moves billions through layered approvals without real-time verification isn’t “vulnerable.”

 It is designed to look away.

When approving contracts gets you promoted, but asking questions gets you labeled “difficult,” the system trains compliance — not protection of the public.

 This doesn’t require a hero.

It requires jurisdiction that isn’t conflicted.

In my experience, justice only moves when the people with the handcuffs don’t answer to the people with the checkbook.

And that brings us to the Governor.

 Tim Walz is currently seeking a third term. During the vice-presidential debate, he publicly praised these programs as a success.

If a CEO lost hundreds of millions of dollars and called it a “success,” they wouldn’t be asking for a contract renewal.

They’d be under investigation.

And if nothing happens now —

after the facts are public,

after the numbers are known,

after the damage is undeniable —

then this wasn’t a failure of oversight.

It was a choice.

 In Minnesota, apparently looting — politely, legally, and right in the open — is what passes for governance.

They are banking on you being too tired to care.

Prove them wrong.

If accountability matters to you, share this.