“Magical Authorities”: Trump Poised to Invoke Insurrection Act in Minneapolis as Ex-Aide Reveals “Creepy” Obsession with Militarizing US Streets

In the humid summer air of Minneapolis, the streets that once hummed with the rhythm of everyday life now echoed with tension. It was late July 2024, and the city, still scarred from the unrest following George Floyd’s murder in 2020, found itself under siege once more—not from internal protests, but from an external force unleashed by a president determined to prove his dominance. Donald Trump’s Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents had descended on the Twin Cities like a storm, their presence a deliberate provocation. Vans emblazoned with federal insignia patrolled neighborhoods, checkpoints sprang up at intersections, and raids disrupted homes and businesses. What began as a crackdown on undocumented immigrants had spiraled into chaos, with agents clashing with protesters, journalists, and even local police.

Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey stood at a podium in City Hall, his voice steady but edged with frustration. “Our police are charged on any given day with investigating crime, stopping homicides from taking place, preventing carjackings,” he said, addressing a crowd of reporters. “Meanwhile, we have ICE agents throughout our city and throughout our state, who along with Border Control are creating chaos. Police are so busy now responding to the mess ICE is creating, they’re not able to be as responsive to the people they’re supposed to serve.”

Footage from the streets painted a grim picture. ICE agents tackled civilians, deployed tear gas, smashed windows, and yanked phones from hands attempting to document their actions. A father of six recounted how his children ended up in the hospital after agents hurled a tear gas canister under his car. Videos showed overzealous agents threatening detainees, restrained only by colleagues who seemed to grasp the line between enforcement and escalation. Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas defended the operations, claiming agents were “doing everything correctly,” but the reality on the ground told a different story.

Trump, ever the opportunist, watched from afar. In a rally in Pennsylvania, he hinted at escalation. “We’re going to put an end to this nonsense in Minneapolis,” he declared, his voice booming. “If they don’t stop, I might have to invoke the Insurrection Act. Send in the military. Make America safe again!” The crowd cheered, but behind the bluster lay a calculated move. Trump’s administration had stoked the fires in cities like Los Angeles, Chicago, and Portland before, using ICE to create unrest that justified calling in the National Guard. Now, Minneapolis was the next target—a Democratic stronghold ripe for exploitation.

As the nation grappled with this unfolding crisis, MSNBC’s Jen Psaki sat down for an interview with Miles Taylor, the former chief of staff at the Department of Homeland Security during Trump’s first term. Taylor, who had become a vocal critic, offered insights that chilled viewers. The conversation aired that evening, drawing millions, as America confronted the specter of militarized streets.

Jen Psaki leaned forward in her chair, the studio lights casting sharp shadows. “Miles, thank you for joining us. As we’ve seen in those clips, ICE agents are brutalizing both immigrants, suspected immigrants, and protesters on the streets of Minneapolis. Tackling people, deploying tear gas, smashing windows—it’s excessive force, and it’s creating chaos. Meanwhile, Trump threatens to invoke the Insurrection Act, a rarely used law that would allow him to send the U.S. military into the streets, militarizing the city and pitting service members against their fellow Americans. Based on what you’ve seen from Trump’s first term, do you think he’d actually try to invoke it now?”

Miles Taylor, a former DHS official with a reputation for unflinching candor, nodded solemnly. He was in his mid-40s, with a sharp jawline and eyes that had seen too much bureaucracy. “I think he will invoke it, Jen. You think he will do it? This has been ten years in the making. He has been searching for almost a decade for the excuse, the right moment, the pretext, the visuals that would justify him invoking the Insurrection Act.”

Psaki’s expression tightened. “Ten years? That’s a long time. Can you walk us through that?”

Taylor leaned back, recalling memories that still haunted him. “I can remember when he first thought he had it—or one of the times he thought he had it. It was the eve of his State of the Union address in 2019. We had to rush to the White House to intercept him in the map room as he was practicing on the teleprompter. He wanted to invoke it right then, on the border. There was a caravan headed towards the United States, and that’s what he wanted to use as justification.”

Psaki interjected, “But the law requires an invasion of the United States, a rebellion, or an insurrection. A group of people coming to claim asylum doesn’t meet those criteria.”

“Exactly,” Taylor replied, his voice steady. “We went to White House Counsel’s office and helped them talk the president down. But towards the end of my time in that administration, I sat down with Stephen Miller in his office on the second floor of the West Wing. Stephen told me that if Trump won reelection, it would be a ‘shock and awe’—he would invoke the Insurrection Act and try to run it up to the Supreme Court as fast as humanly possible to get a decision.”

Psaki’s eyes widened. “And now, with Minneapolis, they see circumstances that might seem acceptable to them. But to anyone else, it will look lawless and unconstitutional.”

Taylor nodded. “He spent last year trying to foment circumstances in Los Angeles, Chicago, and Portland to justify it. All of those failed. Now, in Minneapolis, they see an opportunity. It will completely militarize the streets, pitting U.S. service members against their fellow Americans. Trump knows his operations in Minneapolis have been a disaster—just like almost everything he’s doing is a disaster. But he doesn’t know how to admit when he’s failed, so he pours more fuel on the fire, stokes more chaos, and makes things worse.”

Psaki shifted gears, her tone turning analytical. “So, what’s his end goal here? As you’ve mapped this out in your head, why is he so obsessed with this?”

Taylor paused, choosing his words carefully. “Look, don’t take my word for it. Listen to his own current chief of staff, Susie Wiles, who a month ago in those Vogue interviews said he has an ‘alcoholic’s personality.’ But Donald Trump is a teetotaler—he doesn’t drink. I don’t say he is in power, and I don’t say that facetiously or hyperbolically. I go back to early in his first term, and I remember when those cabinet members who didn’t really know him got to know Donald Trump. One of the things they discovered was he was on this constant quest to figure out what the apex of his powers were. Where was he most powerful?”

Psaki nodded. “Because he came into office deeply insecure about his authority.”

“Exactly,” Taylor continued. “He didn’t have all the powers he thought he had. Trust me, the man has never read the United States Constitution. He was confounded that he had checks from the executive branch in his own branch, that there were checks from Congress, that there were checks from the courts. So he wanted to know: Where am I most powerful? Early in the administration, that’s when he was first told the words ‘Insurrection Act.’ And ever since that moment, he was infatuated with it.”

Psaki leaned in. “Infatuated? That’s a strong word.”

Taylor’s expression darkened. “I’ve said to people before, he started calling it by his own set of words—he called it his ‘magical authorities’ on more than two occasions. I heard him reference those powers as his ‘magical authorities’ because to him, if he invoked it, he could do everything he wanted. Now, that’s not what the law says. That’s not what the Constitution allows. But in Donald Trump’s mind, this allows him to do anything. That should worry all of us. He has a creepy obsession with politicizing the military too.”

Psaki sighed, glancing at the camera. “Creepy is the right word here. We’ve seen this play out before—Trump using aggressive ICE tactics in Los Angeles and Chicago to create chaos, which he then used as justification to call on the National Guard and ratchet up tensions. Now he’s considering a more drastic escalation for Minneapolis. What would you tell the leaders of the city? How should they deal with this barreling movement from the Trump administration?”

Taylor’s voice grew urgent. “Well, one quick note first, Jen—creepy is the right word here. We need to start using that more again because Donald Trump’s obsession with this was creepy. I can remember when he would go meet frontline agents, ICE agents, and he would find the toughest-looking one—a guy with a sharp jaw, beefy arms who looked like he was in Special Forces. He would go up to him and put his hands on both shoulders and say verbatim, ‘You look like you’re straight out of central casting.’ It was weird. But what Donald Trump didn’t mean was, ‘I want all of my ICE agents to look like soldiers instead of frumpy beat cops.’ He meant, ‘I want them to act like soldiers.’ So this has been long in the making—and again, creepy.”

Psaki smiled faintly. “Okay, creepy noted. But seriously, advice for the leaders in Minnesota?”

Taylor straightened. “My advice to elected leaders in Minnesota: Do what Illinois did, do what California did—go on legal offense against this administration. And as you know, Minnesota is starting to do that. They are suing about the invasion of ICE agents. What they also should be doing is preparing preemptive actions for the possibility that Donald Trump invokes the Insurrection Act. They need to go on legal offense. And you know what? I’m heartened to see so many state and locals doing exactly that. They have gotten the message. They are standing up. They are being defiant. The only way to be in this moment is on offense. Otherwise, he will keep pushing and plowing forward.”

As the interview wrapped, Psaki thanked Taylor, her expression a mix of gratitude and concern. The segment aired to a nation on edge, sparking debates and calls to action. But beneath the surface, the story of Trump’s obsession with the Insurrection Act ran deeper, rooted in his first term’s power struggles.

Flash back to 2017. Donald Trump had just taken office, his ego bruised by the realities of governance. The Constitution, with its checks and balances, frustrated him. He railed against the judiciary, Congress, even his own cabinet. “Why can’t I just do what I want?” he’d fume in private meetings. It was during this time that advisors briefed him on the Insurrection Act—a relic from the Reconstruction era, allowing presidents to deploy troops domestically to suppress insurrections or enforce laws.

To Trump, it sounded like a superpower. “Magical authorities,” he called it, envisioning himself as a wartime commander, bypassing Congress and courts. In 2019, as the migrant caravan approached the border, he nearly invoked it during his State of the Union. Taylor and others intervened, reminding him it didn’t apply. But the seed was planted.

Stephen Miller, Trump’s architect of immigration policy, nurtured it. In that West Wing office meeting, Miller outlined a post-reelection strategy: Invoke the Act immediately, challenge it in court, and establish precedent for unchecked executive power. “Shock and awe,” Miller said, echoing military tactics. Taylor left the meeting disturbed, knowing Trump’s insecurity drove him toward authoritarian fantasies.

Now, in 2024, Minneapolis was the stage. Trump’s ICE deployments weren’t about immigration; they were about provocation. Agents were instructed to be aggressive, to escalate situations. Videos of tear gas and tackles went viral, fueling protests. Trump watched the ratings soar, his rallies packed with supporters chanting for action.

But the cost was human. Families torn apart, communities divided. Service members, if deployed under the Insurrection Act, would face impossible choices—enforcing a president’s whims against their neighbors. Taylor warned of this in interviews, drawing from his DHS days. “These men and women are being put in an impossible situation,” he said. “They’re trained to protect, not to oppress.”

Local leaders in Minneapolis heeded Taylor’s advice. Mayor Frey filed lawsuits, challenging ICE’s presence as an unconstitutional overreach. Senators like Amy Klobuchar and Tina Smith rallied support, preparing injunctions against any military deployment. “We’re not backing down,” Frey declared. “This is our city, not Trump’s playground.”

Nationally, the backlash grew. Legal experts argued the Insurrection Act required a genuine threat, not manufactured chaos. Courts in other states had blocked similar moves, citing Posse Comitatus Act restrictions on military law enforcement.

Yet, Trump’s pattern persisted. Insecure and impulsive, he sought the “apex of power,” where no one could stop him. The Insurrection Act represented that illusion—a way to “win” without compromise.

As summer wore on, Minneapolis braced for escalation. Protests swelled, but so did resolve. Taylor’s words echoed: Go on offense. Sue, prepare, defy. In the end, Trump’s gambit might backfire, exposing his authoritarian leanings to a watching world.

But for now, the streets simmered, a reminder that power, unchecked, breeds chaos. And in Trump’s mind, chaos was just another tool to seize control.