In a dramatic and deeply personal rebuke that has reverberated across the political landscape, Alisa Kasmer, cousin of White House deputy chief of staff Stephen Miller, has publicly disowned him, calling him "the face of evil" for his central role in driving the Trump administration’s hardline immigration crackdown. Kasmer’s emotional Facebook posts, published in July 2025 as Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) ramped up controversial raids in Los Angeles and other major cities, have resurfaced and ignited intense debate about family, heritage, and the cost of political ambition.
Kasmer, who described herself as Miller’s cousin on his father’s side and someone who once babysat him, painted a vivid picture of their shared childhood: “awkward, funny, needy middle child who loved to chase attention,” she wrote, recalling a time when Miller was “lovable and harmless.” But as Miller’s political star rose and his influence over U.S. immigration policy became unmistakable, Kasmer’s feelings turned to grief, shame, and ultimately, estrangement.
“I am living with the deep pain of watching someone I once loved become the face of evil,” Kasmer wrote in her now widely circulated post, according to The Times of India. “I grieve what you’ve become, Stephen… I will never knowingly let evil into my life, no matter whose blood it carries—including my own.”
Kasmer’s condemnation comes at a time when Miller, widely recognized as the architect of both Trump administrations’ divisive immigration policies, has re-emerged as a central figure in the administration’s enforcement regime. He has been credited with setting an ambitious—and controversial—quota of at least 3,000 ICE arrests per day. Yet, despite these lofty targets, official data show that actual arrests have consistently fallen short, with immigrants lacking criminal records making up the largest share of those detained, as noted by The Daily Beast.
For Kasmer, the political is intensely personal. She recounted her anguish over ICE raids in California, writing, “I cried until I couldn’t breathe. Maybe it was ten years of anger and pain finally breaking through the surface. Maybe it was the most recent ICE raids turning my rage into sorrow. Whatever it was, something in me cracked wide open and has shaken me to my core.” She described experiencing panic attacks and a profound sense of loss—not just for her cousin, but for the future she believes his choices have taken from her and their family. “I grieve your children I will never meet. I grieve the future family you’ve stolen from me by choosing a path so filled with cruelty that I cannot, and will not, be a part of it.”
Kasmer’s posts are also steeped in the lessons of their shared Jewish upbringing. She referenced the stories of survival from pogroms, ghettos, and the Holocaust that shaped their family’s identity, and the annual reminder to say “never again.” In her words, “But what you are doing breaks that sacred promise. It breaks everything we were taught. How can you do to others what has been done to us? How can you wake up each day and repeat the cruelty that our people barely escaped from?”
Her anguish is compounded by the knowledge that, as she sees it, Miller’s policies target “hardworking, vibrant community members who are being terrorized for simply being brown.” Kasmer’s criticism doesn’t shy away from the broader political and moral implications of Miller’s actions. “This isn’t about politics,” she insisted. “This is about humanity. About decency. And you have lost yours.”
The familial rift has not been limited to Kasmer alone. She revealed in a subsequent Threads post that most of Miller’s extended family have also disowned him, with the exception of his immediate relatives, who remain supportive of the MAGA agenda. This echoes a pattern established during Miller’s earlier tenure in the Trump White House. In 2018, Miller’s uncle David Glosser published a scathing editorial in Politico, denouncing his nephew as an “immigration hypocrite.” Glosser wrote, “I have watched with dismay and increasing horror as my nephew, an educated man who is well aware of his heritage, has become the architect of immigration policies that repudiate the very foundation of our family’s life in this country.” In an appearance on CNN’s Anderson Cooper 360°, Glosser pointedly remarked, “Had we not been able to enter America when we did, Stephen Miller would not exist.”
Kasmer’s posts also reflect regret and self-doubt. She lamented not having intervened earlier in Miller’s political development, expressing that she and her sister might have acted differently had they witnessed his controversial high school behavior—videos from that period show Miller making inflammatory statements about torture and decrying janitorial work. “If we had seen those horrific videos of [Miller] in high school,” she wrote, “maybe we would have intervened.”
Stephen Miller, now around 40, has become synonymous with the Trump administration’s most aggressive immigration initiatives. He has not only shaped policies such as the so-called “Muslim ban” and family separation at the border but has also escalated rhetoric against Democrat-led cities. In a recent statement, Miller declared, “Look at Chicago, they’ve shut down the police department, they’ve handcuffed law enforcement, and as President Trump says, they have turned the streets of Chicago into a bloody killing field,” as reported by The Times of India. These remarks came as Chicago faced sudden ICE raids and clashes between federal agents and protesters.
Despite the administration’s claim that its immigration blitz is aimed at removing violent criminals, the reality on the ground has been far more complex. Data consistently show that many of those swept up in ICE operations have no criminal record, fueling accusations that the policies are less about public safety and more about instilling fear in immigrant communities. Kasmer herself posed the question, “Where does this hateful obsession end? What are you trying to build besides fear? Immigrants were a part of your upbringing. Is this cruelty your way of rejecting a part of yourself?”
Kasmer’s words have struck a chord far beyond her immediate family. Social media has amplified her posts, with many expressing solidarity and echoing her concerns about the moral direction of the country. Her critique taps into a broader national conversation about the balance between security and compassion, the legacy of immigrant families, and the responsibilities of those in power to honor the lessons of history.
As of this writing, the White House has not responded to requests for comment regarding Kasmer’s statements or the broader family rift. Miller himself remains a polarizing figure, both admired and reviled for his unwavering commitment to the Trump agenda. For Kasmer and many in her extended family, however, the cost has been deeply personal: a sense of loss, shame, and a legacy they never wished to share.
In the end, the story of Alisa Kasmer and Stephen Miller is about more than politics—it’s a stark reminder of how the choices of those in power can ripple through families, communities, and the nation itself, leaving wounds that may never fully heal.
