A Minnesota man has been arrested for allegedly offering $45,000 for a “hit” on U.S. Attorney General Pam Bondi, the FBI announced in a press release.
On October 9, 2025, a TikTok user in Michigan flagged a disturbing post from an account under the username “Wacko,” which featured an anarchist symbol and displayed a “sniper-scope red dot” superimposed over the forehead of the nation’s top prosecutor.
The post included a mock wanted poster bearing Bondi’s image, with the text “WANTED: Pam Bondi / REWARD: 45,000 / DEAD OR ALIVE / (PREFERABLY DEAD),” and was captioned “cough cough when they don’t serve us then what?”
The uploader further claimed that they would be offering $45,000 to anyone who successfully carried out a “hit” on Bondi, prompting a swift federal investigation. A suspect identified as Tyler Maxon Avalos, a 29-year-old resident of St. Paul, Minnesota, was apprehended a week after the post went live on October 16, 2025, following verification of his identity through state supervision records tied to his address.
Maxon-Avalos has a lengthy criminal history, which includes a July 2022 felony stalking charge in Dakota County, Minnesota; an August 2016 felony third-degree domestic battery conviction in Polk County, Florida; and an April 2016 misdemeanor domestic assault charge in Dakota County, Minnesota. The latter charge was initially brought as felony domestic abuse in connection with a strangulation incident, though it was eventually reduced through a plea agreement.
His TikTok profile notably pinned a link to An Anarchist FAQ, underscoring potential ideological motivations and connections or admiration for Antifa-linked groups.
Avalos now faces federal charges under 18 U.S.C. § 875(c) for interstate transmission of a threat to injure another person, which carries a potential penalty of up to five years in prison. Following his arrest, U.S. Magistrate Judge Douglas Micko granted Avalos pretrial release subject to strict conditions, including restrictions on travel outside Minnesota, mandatory continuation of mental health treatment, prohibitions on possessing weapons or consuming alcohol, a nightly curfew, GPS monitoring, and limitations on internet access without prior approval.
The TikTok post allegedly made by Maxon-AvalosPhoto: FBI
The arrest follows an uptick in violent threats and assaults targeting federal agents and senior officials.
Earlier this month, the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) announced that foreign drug cartels were offering hefty bounties on federal agents. In a new bulletin, DHS revealed that local gangs have been encouraged to kill the local heads of ICE or CBP. If they do, the shooter could net as much as $50,000 from the cartels who steer their activity.
Bonuses start at $2,000 for “gathering intelligence or doxxing agents” or their families, DHS announced on Tuesday.
“This surveillance has enabled ambushes and disruptions during routine enforcement actions, including recent raids under Operation Midway Blitz,” said DHS, explaining that non-lethal assaults on federal agents could lead to paydays between $5,000 and $10,000 for gang members.
“These criminal networks are not just resisting the rule of law, they are waging an organized campaign of terror against the brave men and women who protect our borders and communities,” Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem said in a statement.
There are moments in television that feel less like entertainment and more like cultural earthquakes. You don’t just watch them—you remember them. You talk about them at the office, you debate them online, you replay them on YouTube again and again.
That’s exactly what happened when Fox News’ Greg Gutfeld tore into Howard Stern during a live broadcast, delivering a takedown so sharp, so merciless, that it felt less like a roast and more like a reckoning.
For decades, Howard Stern was “The King of All Media,” a rule-breaking renegade who made his name as the loudest, rudest, most unapologetic voice in radio. He mocked the elites, ridiculed politicians, and thrived on shock value. If polite society said “don’t go there,” Stern sprinted there laughing.
But Gutfeld wasn’t interested in bowing to a legend. Instead, he flipped the script: the once-fearless Stern wasn’t the rebel anymore. He was the establishment. He wasn’t calling out phonies—he was one. And Greg Gutfeld let him have it.
Early in the segment, Gutfeld rolled a clip of Stern gushing about politics, proudly embracing the “woke” label. Stern actually said it was a compliment. To Gutfeld, that was all the ammunition he needed.
“This is a guy who built an empire on being offensive, irreverent, unapologetic,” Gutfeld scoffed. “And now? He’s a human Hallmark card for Hollywood elites. The old Stern would have shredded the guy he’s become.”
The irony was brutal. Howard Stern, who once mocked celebrity culture, now spends his days begging to be part of it. Where he once reveled in tearing down hypocrisy, now he cozies up to it. To Gutfeld, Stern’s “evolution” wasn’t growth—it was surrender.
In one of the night’s sharpest barbs, Gutfeld reminded viewers of Stern’s most tasteless early stunts—the outrageous, offensive bits that made him famous. Then he contrasted it with today’s Stern, softly interviewing Hollywood stars like he’s hosting a PBS pledge drive.
“He used to terrify censors,” Gutfeld said. “Now he’s terrified of offending anyone. From shock jock to talk show monk.”
It wasn’t just about comedy. It was about principle. Stern once thrived on breaking rules, but now he polices himself more carefully than the FCC ever did.
What made the moment even more devastating was Stern’s lack of response. The Howard Stern of the ’90s would have erupted, firing back with rapid-fire insults and obliterating his critic on-air.
This time? Nothing.
The man who built his career on confrontation suddenly had no fight left. That silence was deafening. To fans who grew up listening to Stern push every boundary imaginable, it felt like confirmation: the edge was gone.
At its core, this wasn’t just about two men sniping on television. It was about eras colliding.
Howard Stern came of age in a time when the “establishment” was corporate radio, advertisers, and federal regulators. His rebellion was vulgarity, shock, and defiance.
Greg Gutfeld, by contrast, rose in the age of cancel culture and Twitter mobs. His rebellion isn’t profanity—it’s sarcasm, satire, and calling out the very political correctness Stern now defends.
It was more than a clash of personalities. It was a passing of the torch. Stern represented the rebellion of the ’90s. Gutfeld embodies the rebellion of today.
The internet wasted no time choosing sides. Within minutes, clips of the takedown were trending across X (formerly Twitter), YouTube, and TikTok.
“Gutfeld just ended Howard Stern’s career in 5 minutes,” one user wrote.
“The old Stern would have DESTROYED this version of himself. Gutfeld only said what everyone’s been thinking,” another posted.
Even longtime Stern fans admitted it stung. “I grew up worshiping Stern. But watching him now… Greg’s not wrong. The fire’s gone,” one fan confessed in a viral Reddit thread.
That’s the cruel thing about being a legend: your past self becomes the measuring stick for your present. Every new move is compared to the old days, and when you fall short, no critic hits harder than your own fans.
Howard Stern once wore defiance like armor. Now, as Gutfeld painted it, he wears conformity like a uniform. He went from mocking elites to mingling with them. From offending everyone to offending no one.
Was it maturity—or was it selling out? Gutfeld made his case, and the audience seemed to agree.
Greg Gutfeld didn’t just roast Howard Stern. He held up a mirror. He forced fans to reckon with the fact that their rebel king might now be sitting comfortably on the very throne he once set on fire.
The symbolism was almost too perfect: the court jester humiliating the king, live on air.
And in that moment, it wasn’t Stern’s voice that carried. It was Gutfeld’s.
Because love him or hate him, Gutfeld still plays the role Stern once did: the unfiltered truth-teller, the disruptor, the guy willing to say the unsayable.
For Stern, the silence was humiliating. For Gutfeld, it was victory.
And for everyone watching, it was history.
Final Thought: This wasn’t just another TV spat. It was a cultural pivot point. The king of shock radio, once untouchable, was dismantled on live TV—not by censors, not by politicians, but by another rebel. And in that moment, Greg Gutfeld didn’t just take the shot… he took the crown.