In the heart of Texas, a burger joint with a brash political twist has become the unlikely epicenter of a story that weaves together immigration drama, entrepreneurial ambition, and the ever-present American debate about who gets to claim the dream. Trump Burger, a chain devoted to the persona and presidency of Donald J. Trump, has not only drawn crowds hungry for Americana and controversy but now finds itself in the national spotlight for reasons that go far beyond its menu.
Roland Mehrez Beainy, a 28-year-old entrepreneur and co-owner of the Trump Burger chain, is currently facing deportation after being detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) for allegedly overstaying his visa. According to ICE, Beainy entered the United States from Lebanon in 2019 as a non-immigrant visitor, with instructions to leave by February 12, 2024. Instead, he remained in the country, building a business empire themed after the former—and now once again current—U.S. president.
Beainy’s legal troubles began in earnest on May 16, 2025, when ICE agents arrested him, placing him under immigration proceedings. He was released on bond on June 13, 2025, as his case winds its way through the courts. In a statement to The Guardian, ICE made it clear: “Under the current administration, ICE is committed to restore integrity to our nation’s immigration system by holding all individuals accountable who illegally enter the country or overstay the terms of their admission.”
But Beainy’s case is far from straightforward. According to The Independent, the Department of Homeland Security and ICE allege that Beainy attempted to secure legal immigration status through a “sham” marriage, a claim that led to the revocation of his petition by the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services after officials found no evidence of cohabitation. An ICE spokesperson told The Hill, “Roland Mehrez Beainy does not have any immigration benefits that prevented his arrest or removal from the United States.”
Despite the restaurant’s overt support of Donald Trump—complete with burgers branded with the former president’s name, “Trump revenge tour” baseball caps, and “fake news” T-shirts—DHS emphasized that enforcement applies “regardless of what restaurant you own or political beliefs you might have.” In a twist of irony, Beainy’s legal woes have intensified just as Trump, having won a second term in November 2024, began a renewed crackdown on illegal immigrants and mass deportations in January 2025.
The Trump Burger saga, though, is more than a tale of immigration enforcement. It’s the story of a brand that has managed to capture the zeitgeist of modern American polarization. According to The Houston Chronicle, Trump Burger was originally started by Eddie and Sue Hawa in Bellville, Texas, in 2016 as Trump Cafe, just days before the presidential election. The Hawas, immigrants themselves, rebranded their modest eatery with a massive Trump-Pence sign and a menu offering Americana fare, including the now-famous “Trump Burger.”
“We’ve done it not to get more business, we’ve done it to support the president,” Eddie Hawa told a Houston TV station at the time. Sue Hawa added, “People are asking for that special, the Trump Burger—and actually, they love it.” The restaurant welcomed both Republicans and Democrats, though Sue quipped in a 2017 PBS NewsHour segment that she might have moved away if Hillary Clinton had won.
After a brief closure and a period of remodeling, the Hawas reopened in a new Bellville location, this time with a sleeker brand: Trump Burger. The restaurant’s logo—a burger bun styled after Trump’s distinctive hair—mirrored the tough-guy ethos of its namesake. As the business expanded, it attracted new partners, including Beainy, who met Eddie Hawa while working in a Houston kitchen. Beainy quickly became a co-owner and the public face of the chain, which soon opened locations in Flatonia, Kemah, and Houston.
By April 2025, Trump Burger had opened its third restaurant in the Houston area, and a fourth franchise launched in Bay City that summer, according to Nexstar Media. Republican Senator John Cornyn even visited the Houston outpost during Small Business Week, posting a photo of himself giving a thumbs-up in front of the building.
But behind the scenes, the business relationships were far more complicated. Texas Secretary of State filings show Beainy in business with Iyad Abuelhawa (who Americanized his name to Eddie Hawa) and Suad Hamedah, not with the original Hawas by name. Abuelhawa’s past is checkered: he was born in Jerusalem in 1970, immigrated to the U.S. in 1994, and was arrested in 2005 for Medicare fraud involving fake flu vaccines. He later pleaded guilty to misbranding a drug and health care fraud, serving a four-year sentence. After his release, Abuelhawa married Hamedah, and together they became involved with Trump Burger’s evolution.
The relationships among the partners have since fractured, erupting into lawsuits and countersuits over lease agreements, unpaid rent, and accusations of commandeering business operations. “We have been fighting for so many years,” Hamedah told The Houston Chronicle in July 2025. “When you work so hard for so many years and someone comes and takes everything from you… It’s sad, to be honest.” She also expressed disappointment in media outlets that, in her view, failed to look deeper into the business’s origins and ownership.
Beainy, for his part, has mostly declined to comment publicly, telling the Chronicle on August 6, “A lot of the stuff is fake, though, but it is what it is.” His lawyer has also declined to answer detailed questions about the ongoing legal and immigration proceedings. The White House, when approached by The Hill, declined to comment on the deportation case.
For all the media attention and political symbolism, Trump Burger remains a magnet for those seeking a space that reflects their beliefs. As The Houston Chronicle observed, the restaurant is “a curated experience for like-minded people,” a place where supporters of Trump can gather and enjoy a sense of community—at least until the next legal twist.
Regardless of how the lawsuits and immigration proceedings unfold, the Trump Burger story stands as a modern parable about the American Dream, questions of authenticity, and the sometimes-blurry line between image and reality. The building that once housed the original Trump Cafe now serves coffee and avocado toast, while the nearby Trump Burger continues to fly its banners high—proof that, in America, reinvention is always just around the corner.
