From Victim to 'Terrorist' in Minutes: The New Speed of Information Warfare

Minutes. That's how long it took for a shooting victim to become a "terrorist" in the public narrative. Within moments of federal immigration officers killing Alex Pretti in Minneapolis on Saturday, the Trump administration and right-wing influencers launched a coordinated campaign labeling the 37-year-old American citizen a "lunatic" bent on "massacring law enforcement."

Pretti was a registered nurse working at the Department of Veterans Affairs. Bystander video shows he was trying to help a woman who had been pepper-sprayed by immigration agents when officers tackled him. Yet within hours, the Department of Homeland Security's narrative—viewed over 17 million times—painted him as an armed extremist who "intended to massacre law enforcement."

The speed and coordination of this narrative construction reveals something profound about how information warfare operates in 2026.

The Official Story vs. The Evidence

Greg Bovino, the Border Patrol commander overseeing Minneapolis operations, held his own press conference with a remarkably detailed account. Pretti had approached officers with a 9mm handgun, he claimed, resisted disarmament, and was shot in clear self-defense. The victim allegedly carried two loaded magazines, lacked identification, and intended mass violence.

But video evidence tells a different story. Analysis by The New York Times and investigative outlet Bellingcat found that Pretti was clearly holding a phone, not a gun, when federal officers approached him. Multiple social media videos show no visible weapon during the initial confrontation.

Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O'Hara confirmed that Pretti appeared to be "a lawful gun owner with a permit to carry." Family members say he was born in Illinois, had no criminal record, and was an American citizen.

Seventeen Days, Two Deaths

The killing came just 17 days after ICE agent Jonathan Ross shot Renee Nicole Good, a mother of three who was also 37 years old. The proximity of these incidents—two American citizens, same age, killed by federal immigration officers in rapid succession—raises questions about escalating tensions in enforcement operations.

Yet rather than calling for investigation, the administration doubled down on narrative control. President Trump blamed local leadership on Truth Social, posting an image of the gun DHS claimed Pretti was carrying. Vice President JD Vance and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth amplified the criticism.

Stephen Miller, Trump's homeland security adviser, went furthest, labeling Pretti an "assassin" and "terrorist" in social media posts that were rapidly shared across right-wing networks.

The Influence Machine in Action

Right-wing influencer Nick Sortor, embedded in Minneapolis to cover ICE operations, falsely called Pretti an "illegal alien" who "attempted to PULL IT [his gun] on agents." Jack Posobiec, with close White House ties, justified the killing by claiming disrupting federal operations "while armed" warranted lethal force.

The coordinated messaging reached millions before fact-checkers could respond. By the time contradictory evidence emerged, the "terrorist" frame had already taken hold in sympathetic media ecosystems.

Interestingly, cracks appeared even within right-wing circles. Comedian Dave Smith, who endorsed Trump in 2024, called ICE "out of fucking control" and accused agents of "intentionally escalating violent interactions" with US citizens. Podcaster Tim Pool, while calling Pretti "a radicalized leftist," disagreed with claims about massacring officers: "There's no reason to think he was trying to massacre LEOs."

The Speed of Narrative vs. The Pace of Truth

Minnesota Governor Tim Walz dismissed the federal narrative as "nonsense," declaring that "the federal government cannot be trusted with this investigation." But his measured response came hours after millions had already consumed the initial framing.

This temporal gap—between instant narrative deployment and eventual fact-checking—represents a fundamental challenge to democratic discourse. In the attention economy, the first story often becomes the lasting story, regardless of subsequent corrections.