Nearly $1 million in taxpayer money flowed from the Minnesota Department of Human Services into one school district over three years under the banner of helping an “underserved minority population.” Now, thanks to a dogged local media investigation, taxpayers are finally getting a closer look at where that money actually went — and the findings are raising serious questions.
At the center of the story is Faribault Public Schools, which received almost $980,000 through a state grant program designed to curb substance abuse among minority youth. But what initially sounded like a noble public health effort has become another eyebrow-raising chapter in Minnesota’s long-running saga of questionable oversight and taxpayer-funded programs tied to individuals later caught in fraud scandals.
The controversy traces back to 2022, when a Somali mother urged school board officials to seek state assistance for problems affecting youth in her community.
“We need help,” the woman pleaded during the district’s grant application process, expressing concern about substance abuse among Somali youth and the cultural struggles immigrant families face raising children in America.
That woman was later identified as Lul Ali.
At the time, school officials appeared eager to act. Archived board meeting footage reportedly shows Ali encouraging district leaders to pursue grant funding. School board officials later acknowledged she had extensive involvement in discussions surrounding the initiative.
“We’ve had several meetings with this lady and a group of people over the last three months about it,” then-school board chairman Chad Wolff reportedly said during a November 2022 meeting.
Then came the bombshell.
Just months after the district accepted the grant, federal prosecutors charged Ali in connection with Minnesota’s now-infamous Feeding Our Future scandal — a staggering fraud scheme that looted taxpayer funds during the COVID era.
Ali and her husband eventually admitted to stealing approximately $5 million by falsely claiming to feed thousands of children during the pandemic.
For many Minnesotans still outraged over Feeding Our Future — one of the largest pandemic fraud scandals in American history — the revelation naturally triggered fresh scrutiny.
How closely are taxpayer-funded programs actually vetted? And why do public institutions repeatedly seem caught flat-footed?
Faribault Superintendent Jamie Bente acknowledged the district was blindsided.
“I will say that was quite a shock to us,” Bente told local reporters. “That was not something that was known to us during that time period.”
He added that the district began reevaluating how it screens outside partners after Ali’s fraud case became public.
But the questions didn’t stop there.
After repeated requests under Minnesota’s Data Practices Act, local outlet KSTP finally obtained hundreds of pages of records detailing how the grant money was spent — and some expenditures are leaving taxpayers scratching their heads.
According to the documents, the district received $979,523 before the funding source — federal COVID relief dollars — abruptly ended in March 2025.
Among the expenses: roughly $40,000 for equipment and uniforms tied to a Somali Youth Soccer League. Another $10,000 reportedly funded staff travel to Montana for training at the upscale Big Sky Resort through the Montana Institute on something called “Positive Community Norms.”
The grant also funded after-school programs and youth engagement events.
Supporters argue programs like sports leagues and mentoring can help keep kids away from drugs and crime. But critics say the situation exposes a deeper problem: government agencies routinely shovel taxpayer money into loosely monitored programs with little accountability until scandals explode.
To many frustrated Minnesotans, the story feels painfully familiar.
First came Feeding Our Future. Then years of revelations involving fraud, waste, and questionable oversight tied to COVID-era spending. Now, taxpayers are once again left wondering whether nearly $1 million was spent wisely — or simply became another example of government throwing money at problems without serious scrutiny.
In an era of soaring costs and strained public trust, many Americans are asking a simple question: when will someone finally start guarding taxpayer dollars like they actually matter?
