A billion dollars. That’s the estimated scale of a breathtaking fraud scheme unfolding in Minnesota, a betrayal of taxpayer trust that reached into the heart of programs designed to feed those in need. An investigation revealed a network of deception, built on false claims and phantom organizations, leaving investigators scrambling to untangle the web of lies.
The Griggs-Midway Building in St. Paul emerged as a central hub of the alleged scheme. Acting U.S. Attorney Joseph H. Thompson described it as housing an “unusual concentration” of fraudulent entities. Twenty-two “businesses” – companies Thompson labeled as “purely fictitious” – were registered at this single address, collectively billing Medicaid for a staggering $8 million.
An on-the-ground investigation painted a stark picture. Large portions of the building stood abandoned, a faded banner advertising empty spaces flapping in the wind. Men loitering near the entrance claimed they didn’t speak English, a silent barrier to inquiry. Yet, the building’s western side bustled with legitimate businesses – a hair salon, a financial service, a property management office – a jarring contrast to the alleged fraud within.
One of the highest-billing entities linked to the scheme, Brilliant Minds Services, allegedly submitted over $2.3 million in fraudulent claims from the Griggs-Midway location. Four individuals – Moktar Hassan Aden, Mustafa Dayib Ali, Khalid Ahmed Dayib, and Abdifitah Mohamud Mohamed – have been charged, their names now synonymous with the unfolding scandal.
The trail of deception led to a second-story walkup above a sushi shop, just blocks from the Mississippi River. The entryway was locked, its purpose unclear. Was it merely a paper address, a shield for the fraudster, or a genuine, yet hidden, operation? A window displayed a defiant message: “No Kings, No Fascists,” a strange juxtaposition against the alleged financial crime.
Winsor Plaza, a large brick building in Roseville, presented another layer of mystery. A directory listed dozens of legitimate businesses, but Unit 150, the address on the fraudulent claim, simply didn’t exist. The claim wasn’t just false; the location was fabricated. A similar phantom address surfaced on Baltimore Street, listing a suite within a building that held only a dental office.
Occasionally, the investigation hit a different note. At one address, a legitimate counseling center and painting company occupied the space, while the fraudulent entity remained a ghost. At another, a small, rusted garage behind a church stood vacant, a local man recalling a “John” who briefly ran a pop-up gym there, driving a flashy car. The connection to the fraud remained elusive.
The pattern of deception continued. An address on East 54th Street didn’t exist – the street numbering jumped from the 400s to the 500s. Another location on East Lake Street was boarded up and covered in graffiti, a silent testament to long-term abandonment. The scale of the alleged fraud was becoming disturbingly clear.
Minnesota State Senator Mark Koran expressed outrage at the brazen nature of the scheme. “Most of that $500 million hasn't served a single meal,” he stated, highlighting the stark contrast between the intended purpose of the funds and their alleged misuse. He described instances where simple verification – a visit to the listed address – would have exposed the fraud.
A legislative audit revealed that thirty property owners contacted the Department of Education, stating that the businesses claiming to operate from their locations simply didn’t exist. Yet, the Department of Education continued to funnel millions of dollars to these phantom entities, dismissing the complaints and ignoring the blatant red flags. The betrayal of public trust was complete.
