Once upon a time in the land of politics, there was a tale as intriguing as any fairy tale, except it involved no fairies—just some fishy finances. This is the story of Ilhan Omar, who entered Congress in 2018 with more debt than a college student and somehow turned into one of the wealthiest members. It would be a modern-day rags-to-riches story, except the route she took seems more like a detour through Fraud Alley.

Initially, Omar had negative fifty-something thousand dollars in net worth thanks to student and credit card debts. Now, you’d think on her congressional salary of $174,000 a year, she could maybe, just maybe, cover her debts and squirrel away some savings. But somehow, faster than you can say “financial wizard,” her net worth ballooned to $30 million. That’s not just a good investment; that’s Houdini-level financial magic.

Enter stage left: the Meals Act of 2022, which, aside from conjuring images of school lunches, turned out to be a not-so-grand buffet for fraudsters. This act let loose oversight on federal meals programs for children. Who would have thought that in the land of ten thousand lakes, folks in Minneapolis would use it to whip up a half-billion-dollar fraud soufflé? Omar herself reportedly stirred the pot in one of the kitchens involved. Here we’ve got fake children showing up for daycares and meals like characters out of a mystery novel.

Meanwhile, Omar’s third husband, Tim Minette, deserves a standing ovation—or at least a long, hard look. Somehow, while fraud scams were werkshopping around town, Minette spun together some venture capital firms. You won’t believe who was gathering in his financial kitchen: Obama-era and Democrat operatives. These firms grew faster than a weed in spring, mirroring the same timeline as the fraud extravaganza.

But wait, there’s more! Plop goes a fraudulent wine company into this economic cocktail. Listed in Omar’s financial disclosures, this company, with its cleverly named vintage “Devil’s Lie,” added millions to her newfound wealth. The sticky label on this wine? Lawsuits for fraud and a phone line as dead as a doorknob. As if we needed more evidence that something smells fishier than a Friday seafood special.

So here we are, watching this drama unfold. Omar’s rapid climb from running the congressional poverty line relay to owning the podium in the wealth race begs for a full-on investigation. Who knows, maybe the paperwork got mixed up and she’s really a financial mastermind who should be leading seminars instead of committees. Or maybe, just maybe, the rooting out of this fraud will get some transparency back in this topsy-turvy tale where fake kids and defunct wine companies line the plot.