Once Loved Become The Face Of Evil

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A preface:

I have debated about sharing this.

A week ago, after the ICE raids in Camarillo, I had the worst panic attack I’ve experienced in over 30 years. (Shoutout to Zoloft for holding it together. F off, RFK, Jr.) Hours of sobbing, shaking, nausea, and complete loss of control into the early morning hours, led me to do the only thing that ever brings some clarity: write.

The next day I started to write, while still reeling from the emotional hangover. A few days later, I was struck with another panic attack, this time as I was driving (thankfully close enough to home to make it back in one piece.) This sent me back into a spiral of heartbreak. I picked up where I had left off, and kept writing.

Many of you know who my cousin is. Being public about it is something I’ve struggled with. I live with real fear about what posting something this raw might bring. I am living with the deep pain of watching someone I once loved become the face of evil. But I know that staying silent only deepens the ache. There’s so much more I could say, and maybe someday I will.

It’s a long read. I’m wordy AF.

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Last night, I found myself in a stage of grief I didn’t even realize I had been carrying. A grief that’s been living inside me for years—quiet, but constant. It comes from being so close to the root of something violent and vile in this country. I cried until I couldn’t breathe, hours of sobbing, gasping, shaking, sick to my stomach with a weight in my chest that was too heavy to fight. I was having a panic attack I couldn’t escape. 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.

I think many of us are grieving. Grieving a world that feels more cruel than kind. A future that feels further away each day. I grieve for the country we could be… one with unmatched wealth, intelligence, and potential. A nation with resources to ensure everyone lives with dignity, equity, health, and safety. A nation with enough technological and medical advancements to be something truly extraordinary. But instead, those resources and that wealth are being hoarded by a few, poisoned by ego and power, devoid of empathy, starving the rest. Our privilege has been wasted on cruelty and torture, targeting the very people who make our communities whole—the hardest workers, the most vulnerable, the ones who carry this country on their backs. A society is only as strong as its most vulnerable, and ours are at their weakest. This is not by accident, but by design. Your design, Stephen.

Then there’s the grief I carry inside my own family- the most personal and painful. I grieve a cousin I once loved. A boy I watched grow up, babysat, and shared a childhood with. The kid I made fun of for his obsession with Michael Jackson and Ghostbusters. The awkward, funny, needy middle child who loved to chase attention, yet was always the sweetest with the littlest family members. A kid that reminded me of Alex P. Keaton, young, conservative, maybe misguided, but lovable and harmless. Or so I thought. But I was so deeply wrong. And the realization that I didn’t know you at all? It guts me. I grieve what you’ve become, Stephen. And I grieve what I’ve lost because of it. 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. I will never knowingly let evil into my life, no matter whose blood it carries—including my own.

I grieve for the power you’ve been given and for those around you who have enabled it. I grieve for the family I once loved, who lifted me up, who helped me through life, who made me feel safe, who now leave me feeling unsettled and even afraid. I grieve the realization that maybe I never really knew these people at all. My heart breaks every day, over and over.

But most of all, I grieve for those directly harmed by your actions  For the communities here in Los Angeles, our shared home, for all of California, and the rest of the country terrorized by the cruelty you have brought upon us all. I grieve for the families shattered by cruelty dressed up as “immigration policy.” Targeting hardworking, vibrant community members who are being terrorized for simply being brown. This was never about criminals. Or “illegal” entry. And now, with the passing of this bloated, grotesque bill—stuffed with more funding for ICE than most countries spend on their entire military, I’m left speechless. 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?

People always ask me, “What happened to you?” I don’t have a clear answer. I can only surmise it was a perfect storm of ego, fear, hate, and ambition—all of it mangled into something cruel and hollow, masquerading as strength. You were born into privilege, into safety, and wealth. And somehow, you’ve weaponized all of it. I didn’t see the descent until it was too late. And now I’m left with guilt and shame. Could I have done something? My sister recently asked me, “If social media had existed back then—if we had seen the horrific videos of you in high school, would we have spoken up? Would we have intervened?” Yes, we absolutely would have. I grieve that we never got that chance.

And here’s where it hurts even more: we were raised Jewish.

Stephen, you and I both know what that means. We were raised with stories of survival. We learned about pogroms, ghettos, the Holocaust—not just as history, but as part of our identity. We carry the trauma of generations who were hunted, hated, expelled, murdered, just for existing. We were taught to remember. We celebrated holidays each year with the reminder to stand up and say “never again.” 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? We were taught to never forget where we came from. But you seem to have erased it all. And it devastates me. To be this close to the cruelty, through you, has left me ashamed and shattered.

I try to fight your harm in every way I can. But it will never be enough. I can’t undo what you’ve done or who you have become. I can’t outmatch your reach or power. I feel helpless. The panic attacks haven’t stopped since the grief cracked open. The tears won’t stop, and the weight on my chest is constant. This isn’t about politics. This is about humanity. About decency. And you have lost yours.

You’ve destroyed so many lives just to feed your own obsession and ego and uphold an administration so corrupt, so vile, I can barely comprehend it. As surreal as it all feels, this IS reality. As much as I try to disassociate from it, the truth remains—being this close to such deep cruelty fills me with shame. I am gutted. My heart breaks that this is the legacy you have brought to our family. A legacy I never asked to share with you, and one I now carry like a curse.

Author: Alisa Kasmer (Edited Version) 2025-07-17

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前言：我一直在纠结要不要分享这件事。一周前，在卡马里奥的ICE突袭之后，我经历了30多年来最严重的恐慌症发作。（感谢左洛复使我得以坚持下来。滚蛋吧，罗伯特·肯尼迪）。几个小时的抽泣、颤抖、恶心，以及彻底失控，一直持续到凌晨，让我不得不去做唯一能让我清醒的事情：写作。第二天，我开始写作，尽管情绪上的宿醉还在挥之不去。几天后，我又一次恐慌症发作，这次是在开车的时候（幸好离家很近，我可以毫发无损地回来。）这让我再次陷入心碎的漩涡。我重新拾起之前的失落，继续写作。

你们很多人都知道我的表弟是谁。公开这件事让我很纠结。我真的很害怕发布这么真实的内容会带来什么后果。我生活在深深的痛苦之中，看着我曾经爱过的人变成邪恶的化身。但我知道，沉默只会加深痛苦。我还有很多话想说，也许有一天我会说。这篇文章很长，我真是个啰嗦的人。

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昨晚，我发现自己陷入了一种悲伤的境地，我甚至都没有意识到自己一直承受着这种悲伤。这种悲伤潜伏在我内心多年——悄无声息，却始终如一。它源于我如此接近这个国家暴力和邪恶的根源。我哭到无法呼吸，几个小时的抽泣、喘息、颤抖，胃里翻江倒海，胸口压着难以抗拒的重负。我陷入了无法摆脱的恐慌。也许是十年的愤怒和痛苦终于爆发了。也许是最近的ICE突袭把我的愤怒变成了悲伤。无论是什么，我内心深处的某些东西彻底崩裂，深深地震撼了我。

我想我们很多人都在悲伤。悲痛的世界，感觉残酷多于善良。未来似乎一天比一天遥远。我为我们本可以成为的国家而悲痛……一个拥有无与伦比的财富、智慧和潜力的国家。一个拥有资源，能够确保人人享有尊严、平等、健康和安全的国家。一个拥有足够多的技术和医疗进步，足以成就非凡的国家。然而，这些资源和财富却被少数人囤积，被自负和权力毒害，缺乏同情心，让其他人忍饥挨饿。我们的特权被浪费在残酷和酷刑上，而受害者正是那些让我们社区完整的人——那些最辛勤的劳动者、最脆弱的人、那些肩负着这个国家重担的人。一个社会的强大取决于它最脆弱的部分，而我们的社会正处于最脆弱的部分。这并非偶然，而是刻意为之。是你的设计，斯蒂芬。

此外，还有我内心深处的悲痛——最私人、最痛苦的悲痛。我为曾经深爱的一位表弟而悲痛。他是我看着长大、照顾过他、一起度过童年的男孩。那个我曾经嘲笑过他痴迷迈克尔·杰克逊和捉鬼敢死队的孩子。那个笨拙、滑稽、需要照顾的中间孩子，喜欢追逐关注，但对家里最小的成员却总是最温柔的。他让我想起了亚历克斯·P·基顿，年轻、保守，或许有些误入歧途，但可爱又无害。或者说，我是这样认为的。但我大错特错。而我意识到我根本不了解你？这让我心碎。我为你变成的样子感到悲痛，史蒂芬。我为因此失去的一切感到悲痛。我为我永远无法见到的你的孩子们感到悲痛。我为你从我身边偷走的未来家庭感到悲痛，因为你选择了一条充满残酷的道路，我无法，也不会成为其中的一部分。我永远不会故意让邪恶进入我的生活，无论它流淌着谁的血液——包括我自己的。

我为你被赋予的力量感到悲痛，也为你周围那些赋予你力量的人感到悲痛。我为曾经深爱的家人感到悲痛，他们曾鼓励我，帮助我度过人生，让我感到安全，而如今却让我感到不安甚至恐惧。我悲痛地意识到，或许我从未真正认识过这些人。我的心每天都在碎，一遍又一遍。

但最重要的是，我为那些直接受到你们行为伤害的人感到悲痛，为洛杉矶这个我们共同的家园的社区感到悲痛，为整个加州以及全国其他被你们强加于我们所有人的残酷行径所恐吓的地区感到悲痛。我为那些被伪装成“移民政策”的残酷行径摧毁的家庭感到悲痛。这些残酷行径的目标是辛勤工作、充满活力的社区成员，他们仅仅因为是棕色皮肤就遭受恐吓。这从来都与罪犯无关，也不与“非法”入境有关。如今，随着这项臃肿怪诞的法案的通过——它塞满了比大多数国家用于其全部军队的资金还要多的ICE资金——我无话可说。这种充满仇恨的痴迷何时才能结束？除了恐惧，你还想构建什么？移民是你成长经历的一部分。这种残忍是你拒绝自我的一部分的方式吗？

人们总是问我：“你怎么了？” 我没有明确的答案。我只能猜测，这是一场自负、恐惧、仇恨和野心的完美风暴——所有这些都被扭曲成某种残酷空洞的东西，伪装成力量。你生来享有特权，拥有安全和财富。但不知何故，你却把这一切都变成了武器。我直到为时已晚才意识到这一切的堕落。现在我满怀内疚和羞愧。我能做些什么吗？我姐姐最近问我：“如果当时有社交媒体——如果我们看到了你高中时那些可怕的视频，我们会站出来吗？我们会介入吗？” 是的，我们绝对会。我很遗憾我们从未得到过这样的机会。

更让人心痛的是：我们是犹太人出身。

斯蒂芬，你我都明白这意味着什么。我们从小就听着生存的故事长大。我们了解大屠杀、犹太人隔离区、大屠杀——不仅仅是作为历史，更是作为我们身份的一部分。我们背负着几代人仅仅因为生存就被追捕、憎恨、驱逐、谋杀的创伤。我们被教导要铭记。每年过节，我们都会站起来，大声喊出“永不再犯”。但你们的所作所为违背了那神圣的承诺，违背了我们所受的一切教导。你们怎么能把发生在我们身上的事加诸于他人？你们怎么能每天醒来，重复那些我们人民好不容易才逃脱的残酷？我们被教导要永远铭记自己的出身。但你们似乎把这一切都抹去了。这让我心碎。通过你们，如此近距离地接触残酷，让我感到羞愧和崩溃。

我竭尽所能地抵抗你们造成的伤害。但这永远不够。我无法抹去你们的所作所为，也无法改变你们现在的样子。我无法超越你们的影响力和力量。我感到无助。自从悲伤破裂以来，恐慌症就从未停止过。泪水止不住，我胸口的重担始终压在我的心头。这与政治无关。这关乎人性。关乎正直。而你们已经失去了正直。

你毁掉了这么多生命，只为满足你的执念和自负，维护一个如此腐败、如此卑鄙的政府，我几乎无法理解。尽管这一切感觉如此不真实，但这却是现实。尽管我努力回避，但事实依然存在——如此接近如此深层的残酷，让我感到羞愧。我心如刀割。这就是你留给我们家的遗产，我的心都碎了。我从未要求与你分享，而如今，它却像诅咒一样，一直伴随着我。

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Fact Check: Alisa Kasmer, Whose Facebook Post Says She's 'Grieving' What Trump Aide Stephen Miller 'Has Become,' IS His First Cousin

Alan Duke
Mon, October 6, 2025 at 8:18 PM PDT


Lead Stories says: 1st Cousins

Is Alisa Kasmer, the woman who posted a long message on Facebook attacking Stephen Miller, really Miller's cousin? Yes, that's true: Kasmer's post claimed that she babysat Miller and he is her first cousin. Lead Stories researched the White House Deputy Chief of Staff's family tree and confirmed that Kasmer, 43, is the daughter of Miller's paternal aunt. Photographs included in the post of Kasmer with Miller also match other photographs of Kasmer found in our search.

The claim originated in a post (archived here) published on Alisa Kasmer's Facebook account on July 17, 2025. It opened:

A preface: I have debated about sharing this. A week ago, after the ICE raids in Camarillo, I had the worst panic attack I've experienced in over 30 years. (Shoutout to Zoloft for holding it together. F off, RFK, Jr.) Hours of sobbing, shaking, nausea, and complete loss of control into the early morning hours, led me to do the only thing that ever brings some clarity: write. The next day I started to write, while still reeling from the emotional hangover. A few days later, I was struck with another panic attack, this time as I was driving (thankfully close enough to home to make it back in one piece.) This sent me back into a spiral of heartbreak. I picked up where I had left off, and kept writing.

This is what the post looked like on Facebook at the time of writing:

Source: Facebook screenshot taken on Mon Oct 6 18:21:21 2025 UTC

The post received widespread attention months after it was first posted, amid Miller's involvement in White House decisions to send military troops into American cities in September and October of 2025.

This fact check is intended only to verify Kasmer's claim that she is Miller's cousin, not to fact check each point in her post.

The post continued:

Many of you know who my cousin is. Being public about it is something I've struggled with. I live with real fear about what posting something this raw might bring. I am living with the deep pain of watching someone I once loved become the face of evil. But I know that staying silent only deepens the ache. There's so much more I could say, and maybe someday I will. It's a long read. I'm wordy AF.

Several paragraphs later, Kasmer wrote about her grief that Miller, who she said was "lovable and harmless" as a child, had chosen "a path so filled with cruelty that I cannot, and will not, be a part of it":

Then there's the grief I carry inside my own family- the most personal and painful. I grieve a cousin I once loved. A boy I watched grow up, babysat, and shared a childhood with. The kid I made fun of for his obsession with Michael Jackson and Ghostbusters. The awkward, funny, needy middle child who loved to chase attention, yet was always the sweetest with the littlest family members. A kid that reminded me of Alex P. Keaton, young, conservative, maybe misguided, but lovable and harmless. Or so I thought. But I was so deeply wrong. And the realization that I didn't know you at all? It guts me. I grieve what you've become, Stephen. And I grieve what I've lost because of it. 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. I will never knowingly let evil into my life, no matter whose blood it carries--including my own.

Lead Stories used the tools of Ancestry.com to construct Miller's family tree for several generations. We were helped with the discovery of this tree that was already on the ancestry website:

Image source: Lead Stories screenshot of ancestry.com

An Ancestry.com account is needed to see this tree online here.

This tree, which Lead Stories confirmed through multiple records is accurate, ends with a "Private Living" box, married to Katie Rose Waldman. Miller is currently married to Waldman, who previously served as the director of communications for Vice President Pence. It also correctly lists Miller's father as Michael D. Miller and his mother as Miriam S. Glosser. Suzanne Miller, who is Miller's aunt on his father's side, is shown as married to Jesse Kasmer. Suzanne and Michael Miller's mother is listed as Freya Baker Miller.

A search of the Los Angeles Times archives and Legacy.com found an obituary (archived here) for Freya Baker Miller, who died in 2015 at the age of 98. The article confirmed that she gave birth to Suzanne Miller (Alisa Kasmer's mother) in 1944 and to Michael Miller (Stephen Miller's father) in 1950. At the end, it includes both Alisa and Stephen as surviving grandchildren:

She is survived by her three children, her grandchildren, Janell and Alisa, Alexis, Stephen and Jacob, and her three great grandchildren, Jordyn, Taylor and Wyatt.

Image source: Lead Stories screenshot of LATimes.com

Lead Stories also used these photos for visual confirmation.

This is a photograph of Alisa Kasmer as a freshman in her high school yearbook via Ancestry.com:

Image source: Lead Stories screenshot of ancestry.com

Compare this image to one of several Kasmer included in her Facebook post:

Image source: Lead Stories screenshot of Facebook.com

Lead Stories called and left a voice message for Alisa Kasmer, but had not received a reply at the time of writing. We will update this article if she responds.