MASTERSTROKE: TRUMP JUST FIRED HER IN FRONT OF EVERYONE - ESCORTED OUT BY POLICE!
President Donald Trump’s administration dismissed the nation’s top copyright official just days after removing the Librarian of Congress.
Shira Perlmutter, who led the U.S. Copyright Office—an agency under the Library of Congress—was abruptly terminated.
The U.S. Copyright Office informed the outlet that Perlmutter had received an email from the White House, which stated, “Your position as the Register of Copyrights and Director at the U.S. Copyright Office is terminated, effective immediately.”
Days prior, Trump dismissed Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden. Her removal was considered part of the administration’s broader effort to replace officials viewed as resistant to Trump’s agenda.
Hayden appointed Shira Perlmutter to head the Copyright Office in October 2020. According to The Associated Press, both Hayden and Perlmutter were informed of their dismissals via email.
“Carla,” the letter to Hayden began. “On behalf of President Donald J. Trump, I am writing to inform you that your position as the Librarian of Congress is terminated effective immediately. Thank you for your service,” it added.
Meanwhile, a USAID employee responsible for overseeing agency contracts created a fictitious company to obtain coronavirus relief funds for personal gain illegally, federal prosecutors announced Friday.
“Yusuf Akoll worked as a Senior Procurement Contract Specialist at the U.S. Agency for International Development,” according to a previously unreported court document. “From at least in or around March 2021, and continuing through at least in or around August 2021, Akoll [made] materially false, fictitious, and fraudulent statements…that resulted in Akoll receiving two [Paycheck Protection Program] loans totaling approximately $16,666 that he was not entitled to receive.”
Prosecutors allege that in November 2020, Akoll registered a company in Virginia named Naagode Consulting LLC and then applied for a Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) loan under the federal COVID-19 relief program. He claimed to be employed by Naagode and stated the funds were needed to avoid layoffs.
However, eligibility for the program required businesses to be operational as of February 2020, prompting Akoll to falsely list the company’s start date as January 2020. To justify the loan, he also claimed the company earned $40,000 in 2019, despite it having no income at all, according to prosecutors.
Akoll was charged with making false statements in Washington, D.C., federal court through an “information,” a filing that typically indicates a plea agreement is in the works, the Daily Wire reported.
The fact that the loan was approved underscores how recklessly the government distributed vast sums of money during the coronavirus pandemic. Akoll’s claim that the company earned $40,000 in 2019 directly contradicted his own assertion that it wasn’t founded until January 2020.
Small Business Administration officials failed to verify the company’s formation date—easily accessible through state corporation records—or cross-check the claimed income against federal tax filings, revealing a lack of basic due diligence. It also highlights the kind of oversight gaps the Department of Government Efficiency has focused on addressing as a core part of its mission.
USAID was shut down, and its remaining functions were absorbed into the State Department amid concerns from Republicans and the Department of Government Efficiency over widespread financial mismanagement. According to records, Akoll had oversight of hundreds of thousands of dollars in funding directed to foreign countries, money that was often difficult to track and monitor effectively.
Coronavirus relief payments were distributed under a “pay and chase” model, in which the government prioritized rapid disbursement with the expectation that fraudulent claims would be pursued later. However, the Biden administration largely abandoned efforts to recover those funds.
In 2023, the Biden administration announced it would not attempt to collect loans under $100,000 that were technically required to be repaid, citing “equity” concerns. While most loans were designed to be forgiven, recipients who failed to meet forgiveness criteria were still obligated to repay them.
When my stepdaughter refused to eat, I thought it was just a phase
When my stepdaughter refused to eat, I thought it was just a phase—until the day she revealed something that forced me to call the police immediately.
Ever since she moved in with us, my husband’s little girl—barely five years old—almost never touched the food on her plate. Every night it was the same scene: she would look down and whisper shyly,
“I’m sorry, Mom… I’m not hungry.”
Then she would leave the food untouched.
My husband always said,
“Give her time. She’ll adjust.”
But one night, while he was away on a work trip, the little girl came to me and whispered,
“Mom… I need to tell you something.”
At that moment, I felt something inside me break. Without even thinking, I grabbed my phone… and I called the police.
When I married Javier and we moved to Valencia, his daughter Lucía came to live with us permanently. She was a quiet little girl with big dark eyes, always observing everything with a seriousness far beyond her age. From the very first day, something worried me: at mealtime, she never ate.
I tried so hard to cook things she might like—omelets, baked rice, fruit, fresh bread… foods most children enjoy. But Lucía would only push the food around with her fork, tilt her head, and whisper,
“I’m sorry, Mom… I’m not hungry.”
That word—“Mom”—moved me every time. It was sweet, but it carried an invisible weight.
I tried not to pressure her. I wanted to create a safe, calm environment. But nothing changed. Night after night, her plate remained full. The only thing she drank was a glass of milk in the morning.
One evening I spoke to Javier about it.
“Javi, something isn’t right. It’s not normal that she barely eats anything. She’s losing weight, don’t you think?”
He sighed as if the conversation exhausted him.
“She’ll get used to it. With her mother it was worse. Just give her time.”
There was a tiredness in his voice—almost like he didn’t want to deal with it. It didn’t reassure me, but I tried to believe Lucía just needed time to adjust.
A week later, Javier left for Madrid for three days for work. On the first night, while I was cleaning the kitchen, I heard small footsteps behind me.
Lucía stood there in her wrinkled pajamas, with a serious expression I had never seen before.
“Can’t you sleep, sweetheart?” I asked, crouching down.
She shook her head, clutching her blanket. Her lips were trembling.
“Mom… I need to tell you something.”
Those words sent a chill through me. I picked her up and we sat down on the couch. First she looked around the room, making sure we were alone. Then she whispered a few words to me…
Words so small, so fragile—and so heartbreaking—that they took my breath away.
I jumped up, shaking, and grabbed my phone.
This couldn’t wait.
When the police answered, my voice was barely a whisper.
“I… I’m the stepmother of a little girl. And she just told me something very serious.”
The officer asked me to explain, but the words stuck in my throat. Lucía clung to me, trembling.
So in a voice softer than a whisper, she repeated what she had just told me.
And when the officer heard it, he said something that made my blood run cold:
“Ma’am… please go somewhere safe. A patrol has already been dispatched
Part 1 — The Secret Lucía Revealed
The officer’s words echoed in my head long after the call ended.
“Ma’am… please go somewhere safe. A patrol has already been dispatched.”
Lucía was still clinging to me, her small fingers gripping my sweater like she was afraid I might disappear. Her face was pale, and her eyes kept darting toward the hallway.
I knelt in front of her and gently brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead.
“Sweetheart,” I whispered softly, trying to steady my voice, “the police are coming to help us. Everything is going to be okay.”
But I wasn’t sure I believed my own words.
The house suddenly felt too quiet.
Too big.
Too empty.
Every sound seemed amplified—the ticking clock in the living room, the faint hum of the refrigerator, the wind brushing against the windows.
Lucía tugged on my sleeve.
“Mom… are they coming because of what I said?”
“Yes,” I answered carefully. “They just want to make sure everyone is safe.”
She nodded slowly, but her expression didn’t relax.
Instead, she whispered something that made my stomach twist.
“He told me not to tell anyone.”
My heart skipped.
“Who told you that?” I asked gently.
Lucía hesitated.
Then she looked down at the floor.
“Daddy.”
For a moment, the room tilted.
“No,” I said instinctively. “Lucía… are you sure?”
She nodded again, hugging her blanket tighter.
“Daddy says if I eat dinner, something bad will happen.”
The air left my lungs.
“What do you mean?” I asked carefully.
Her voice dropped to a whisper so quiet I had to lean closer to hear it.
“He said the food could make me very sick.”
My hands began to tremble.
“What kind of sick?”
Lucía swallowed.
“The kind where people don’t wake up again.”
My chest tightened painfully.
Children sometimes misunderstood things adults said. Maybe this was just confusion.
Maybe Javier had made a careless joke.
But deep down, a cold realization was beginning to grow.
Lucía hadn’t just been refusing food.
She had been afraid.
Afraid of something happening inside this house.
And suddenly I remembered all the times Javier had dismissed my concerns.
“She’ll get used to it.”
“With her mother it was worse.”
“Give her time.”
Had he known?
Or worse—
Had he been the reason?
A sharp knock on the door broke my thoughts.
Lucía flinched.
“It’s okay,” I whispered quickly. “That’s the police.”
I walked to the door with Lucía still holding my hand.
Two officers stood outside, their patrol car lights flickering silently across the street.
One of them, a tall woman with kind eyes, introduced herself.
“Officer Martínez. This is my partner, Officer Ruiz.”
They stepped inside carefully.
“You said the child told you something concerning,” Martínez said gently.
Lucía squeezed my hand.
I knelt beside her.
“Sweetheart,” I said softly, “can you tell the officers what you told me?”
She hesitated again.
Then she looked up at the officers with wide, nervous eyes.
“My daddy told me not to eat dinner.”
Ruiz exchanged a quick glance with Martínez.
“Did he say why?” the officer asked calmly.
Lucía nodded.
“He said the food could hurt me.”
The officers were silent for a moment.
Then Martínez crouched down to Lucía’s level.
“Did anything happen that made you scared?” she asked.
Lucía hesitated again.
Her small voice trembled as she answered.
“One time… I saw Daddy put something in the soup.”
The room went completely still.
“What kind of something?” Ruiz asked.
Lucía shook her head.
“I don’t know. It came from a little bottle.”
My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears.
The officers slowly stood up.
Martínez turned to me.
“Ma’am… we need to ask you a few questions.”
I nodded numbly.
“Where is your husband right now?”
“He’s in Madrid,” I said.
“For work.”
“When is he coming back?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
The officers exchanged another look.
Ruiz spoke quietly.
“Has the child been sick recently?”
I thought about it.
Lucía had been pale.
Thin.
But never violently ill.
“She barely eats,” I said. “Only drinks milk.”
Martínez nodded slowly.
“Do you still have the food from tonight?”
“Yes.”
“In the kitchen.”
The officers moved toward the kitchen while Ruiz radioed something quietly into his microphone.
Lucía held my hand tighter.
“Mom… did I do something wrong?”
My heart broke.
“No, sweetheart,” I said softly.
“You did exactly the right thing.”
In the kitchen, Martínez carefully examined the dinner plates still sitting on the counter.
She looked at the soup pot.
Then she opened the refrigerator.
After a moment she turned back to Ruiz.
“We need a forensic team,” she said quietly.
My blood ran cold.
“Why?” I asked.
Martínez hesitated.
Then she answered carefully.
“There may be something in the food.”
Lucía buried her face in my side.
“Mom… I told you.”
I wrapped my arms around her.
“You were very brave,” I whispered.
But the worst part wasn’t over.
Because fifteen minutes later, Ruiz returned from another call with a look that made my stomach drop.
“Martínez,” he said quietly.
“They just checked the hospital database.”
She looked up.
“And?”
Ruiz’s voice was grim.
“The child’s mother.”
“The one who died two years ago.”
He paused.
“The symptoms listed in the report…”
My heart stopped.
“What about them?” Martínez asked.
Ruiz swallowed.
“They match possible poisoning.”
The room spun.
Lucía’s mother hadn’t died from illness.
She might have been murdered.
And suddenly the officers turned toward me with the same terrifying thought.
If Lucía had started eating the food…
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