Dr. Oz Cracks Down: Minnesota Faces Federal Fury Over $822M Fraud Scandal

Paul Riverbank, 12/21/2025Minnesota reels from $822M fraud, federal demands, and a fight to restore trust in aid programs.

It all came to a head when Dr. Mehmet Oz, now at the helm of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, made headlines with a message so blunt it cut through the usual bureaucratic language. Addressing Governor Tim Walz in a starkly worded letter, Oz didn't play politics: “Fix this in 60 days or prepare to foot the bill yourselves.” It was a threat wrapped in policy—a federal warning rarely delivered in such plain terms.

But the numbers backing his frustration are hard to dispute. In recent investigations, state-run services in Minnesota have reportedly hemorrhaged an astonishing $822 million to fraud. The Feeding Our Future scheme became the most high-profile example, ballooning into a $300 million problem after food aid earmarked for children vanished into luxury homes and overseas bank accounts. Prosecutors painted a picture of pandemic relief siphoned away by fraudsters who saw opportunity where there should’ve been oversight. And the scandal didn’t end there: another $220 million appears lost through compromised autism support, and $302 million vanished from the Housing Stabilization Program—a trifecta of programs under siege.

Oz, during a pointed interview on Breitbart, didn't shy away from explaining how such elaborate cons unfolded. “They spent $400 million on this [autism] program. Why? Because they convinced parents of kids who did not have autism to claim otherwise. Some took quick, fly-by-night training courses to call themselves experts, and suddenly money was flowing, with little real benefit for the supposed recipients. It was, he flatly observed, ‘one big scam.’”

Underlying the figures is a more insidious concern. Reports surfaced of money moving abroad—an echo of much larger, global worries about illicit funds ending up far from their source. Oz speculated, albeit with careful qualifiers, that some proceeds might even be finding their way to criminal groups overseas. This is the kind of allegation that, even if not yet fully substantiated, raises questions about the vulnerabilities baked into well-intentioned aid.

Minnesota’s governor, Tim Walz, has mounted a public defense. Confronted by the scale of alleged losses—numbers that some have stretched as high as $9 billion, though Walz dismisses that figure as “sensationalized”—he’s promised reforms and swift action. “We’re the ones fixing it,” he declared in a recent news conference, pointing to loopholes and poorly worded regulations as the main culprits. Yet even as he assured the public of imminent change, the atmosphere tilted tense; federal patience, it appears, is wearing thin.

What happened in Minnesota is not a local oddity. In New Jersey, a business owner named Aaron Neil Williamsky was recently sentenced for orchestrating a sprawling Medicare fraud, bilking $172 million from taxpayer funds. His operation was sprawling: over 20 medical supply companies, false orders funneled through a maze of businesses, and money quietly filtered abroad—a case that illustrates just how attractive these systems can be to seasoned grifters.

It would be easier to treat these as isolated incidents, but the pattern is too strong to ignore. Social programs, intended as safety nets and ladders for the vulnerable, have proven susceptible to manipulation. What makes the situation particularly thorny is that oversight, once neglected or performed in haste, is hard to restore without breaking trust—or leaving some genuinely needy families entangled in new layers of bureaucracy.

For now, calls for accountability ring louder than ever. Dr. Oz summed up the stakes with a mixture of frustration and realism: “It all sounds great, doesn’t it? But once you allow unscrupulous people through the door, they will pull the rug out from under you.”

The challenge to Minnesota’s leadership is clear: not just patch the holes, but rebuild faith in public institutions. Without vigilance and, frankly, political will, the cycle will repeat—here or elsewhere. The real cost isn’t just on balance sheets; it’s found in the erosion of confidence that these programs can actually help those they were designed for. And as the rest of the nation watches, the episode serves as a cautionary tale for every state that aspires to do good but loses sight of the need to guard the public trust.

Minnesota seldom finds itself at the center of a controversy like this. Known for its lakes, strong institutions, and tradition of civic engagement, the state now faces a reckoning: rampant fraud has crept into its social programs, draining funds set aside for the most at-risk residents. The story isn’t just about lost money—it’s about trust, accountability, and an uncomfortable lesson in the limits of oversight.It all came to a head when Dr. Mehmet Oz, now at the helm of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, made headlines with a message so blunt it cut through the usual bureaucratic language. Addressing Governor Tim Walz in a starkly worded letter, Oz didn't play politics: “Fix this in 60 days or prepare to foot the bill yourselves.” It was a threat wrapped in policy—a federal warning rarely delivered in such plain terms.But the numbers backing his frustration are hard to dispute. In recent investigations, state-run services in Minnesota have reportedly hemorrhaged an astonishing $822 million to fraud. The Feeding Our Future scheme became the most high-profile example, ballooning into a $300 million problem after food aid earmarked for children vanished into luxury homes and overseas bank accounts. Prosecutors painted a picture of pandemic relief siphoned away by fraudsters who saw opportunity where there should’ve been oversight. And the scandal didn’t end there: another $220 million appears lost through compromised autism support, and $302 million vanished from the Housing Stabilization Program—a trifecta of programs under siege.Oz, during a pointed interview on Breitbart, didn't shy away from explaining how such elaborate cons unfolded. “They spent $400 million on this [autism] program. Why? Because they convinced parents of kids who did not have autism to claim otherwise. Some took quick, fly-by-night training courses to call themselves experts, and suddenly money was flowing, with little real benefit for the supposed recipients. It was, he flatly observed, ‘one big scam.’”Underlying the figures is a more insidious concern. Reports surfaced of money moving abroad—an echo of much larger, global worries about illicit funds ending up far from their source. Oz speculated, albeit with careful qualifiers, that some proceeds might even be finding their way to criminal groups overseas. This is the kind of allegation that, even if not yet fully substantiated, raises questions about the vulnerabilities baked into well-intentioned aid.Minnesota’s governor, Tim Walz, has mounted a public defense. Confronted by the scale of alleged losses—numbers that some have stretched as high as $9 billion, though Walz dismisses that figure as “sensationalized”—he’s promised reforms and swift action. “We’re the ones fixing it,” he declared in a recent news conference, pointing to loopholes and poorly worded regulations as the main culprits. Yet even as he assured the public of imminent change, the atmosphere tilted tense; federal patience, it appears, is wearing thin.What happened in Minnesota is not a local oddity. In New Jersey, a business owner named Aaron Neil Williamsky was recently sentenced for orchestrating a sprawling Medicare fraud, bilking $172 million from taxpayer funds. His operation was sprawling: over 20 medical supply companies, false orders funneled through a maze of businesses, and money quietly filtered abroad—a case that illustrates just how attractive these systems can be to seasoned grifters.It would be easier to treat these as isolated incidents, but the pattern is too strong to ignore. Social programs, intended as safety nets and ladders for the vulnerable, have proven susceptible to manipulation. What makes the situation particularly thorny is that oversight, once neglected or performed in haste, is hard to restore without breaking trust—or leaving some genuinely needy families entangled in new layers of bureaucracy.For now, calls for accountability ring louder than ever. Dr. Oz summed up the stakes with a mixture of frustration and realism: “It all sounds great, doesn’t it? But once you allow unscrupulous people through the door, they will pull the rug out from under you.”The challenge to Minnesota’s leadership is clear: not just patch the holes, but rebuild faith in public institutions. Without vigilance and, frankly, political will, the cycle will repeat—here or elsewhere. The real cost isn’t just on balance sheets; it’s found in the erosion of confidence that these programs can actually help those they were designed for. And as the rest of the nation watches, the episode serves as a cautionary tale for every state that aspires to do good but loses sight of the need to guard the public trust.