There’s tough talk, and then there’s troubling action. President Donald J. Trump has long made headlines for his uncompromising rhetoric against “radical Islamic terrorism.” But today, a deeply disturbing contradiction emerged—one that undermines every ounce of his nationalist credentials. A man once convicted for training with a terrorist organization and conspiring against the United States has been appointed to an official White House Advisory Board of Lay Leaders under the Trump administration.
Let that sink in.
Ismail Royer, born Randall Todd Royer, isn’t just some ordinary name pulled out of the depths of a forgotten file. He is a former jihadi, a man who trained with Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT)—the same terror group responsible for the 2008 Mumbai attacks that left 170 people dead, including American citizens. He was indicted by the Department of Justice in 2003 and pleaded guilty in 2004 to aiding and abetting the use of firearms and explosives in a crime of violence. He served 13 years of a 20-year sentence.
And now, this very man has been given a seat at the policy table in Donald Trump’s White House.
Trump built an empire of political capital around his strongman image—the wall, the Muslim ban, the “America First” doctrine. He warned us against radical Islamic extremism at every turn. But this decision shows a glaring double standard: while ordinary Americans are vetted endlessly for jobs, a convicted jihadist has walked into the halls of power through the side door of an “Advisory Board.”
Is this the Trump, the people of America were promised? Or is this Trump, the populist politician, being undermined by his own staff’s poor judgment? Or is the Trump that has sold his soul to Sino-Wahhabi lobby?
Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt for a moment. Let’s assume President Trump didn’t personally greenlight Ismail Royer’s appointment. That only makes it worse. It means that somewhere within the chaotic machinery of Trump’s team, basic national security vetting was either ignored, bypassed, or rendered meaningless. That’s not just a clerical error—it’s a security threat.
Royer’s rap sheet is not a rumor. It’s documented by none other than the Department of Justice.
He joined Lashkar-e-Taiba in 2000, traveled to Pakistan for terror training, and participated in firefights targeting Indian positions in Kashmir. He didn’t just believe in jihad—he acted on it. He returned to the U.S. and became a central figure in the Virginia Jihad Network, which trained on American soil and facilitated travel for other young men to LeT camps abroad. Following the 9/11 attacks, some members of this network even plotted to support the Taliban against American forces.
This man wasn’t merely misguided—he was militant. He wasn’t just ideologically toxic—he was operationally dangerous.
The Advisory Board of Lay Leaders falls under the broader mission of the Religious Liberty Commission, a Trump-era initiative meant to strengthen faith-based engagement in governance. But in the name of religious liberty, how did a known jihadi land a seat next to genuine faith leaders?
There is a vast difference between religious rehabilitation and political recklessness. Royer may claim to have reformed—and if he truly has, let him rebuild his life in peace—but entrusting him with influence over federal policy, especially tied to religion and civil society, is beyond irresponsible. It’s offensive to victims of terror and an insult to national intelligence.
Even if Trump himself didn’t make the call, the buck still stops with him. Appointments like these don’t just reflect the competency of his staff—they reflect the character of his administration.
It’s not the first time Trump’s administration has flirted with figures who walk a dangerous ideological line. His relationship with Erdogan’s Turkey, his backdoor diplomacy with the Taliban, his handshake with Syrian interim president Ahmed Al Sharaa, his $400 million plane gifted by Qatar and his occasional praise for authoritarian regimes all hint at a dangerous soft corner—a willingness to engage radicals under the illusion of strategy.
But appointing someone who once enabled violence against American interests and allies is not a strategy. It’s a betrayal. And it will cost Trump dearly among his core base—the very Americans who trusted him to never compromise on the safety of their nation.
This must be reversed—immediately. Not because of optics, but because of principle. If President Trump truly stands by his “America First” doctrine, then no man who once sought to fight America—literally—should be allowed within miles of the White House advisory mechanism.
We cannot normalize this. We cannot sweep it under the rug as an administrative error. We cannot let a terrorist—yes, terrorist, because that’s what he was—wear a suit and tie and advise the highest office in the land on matters of faith, community, and policy.
Donald Trump owes his supporters, his country, and the victims of jihadist terror an explanation—and more importantly, a correction. This appointment is not a footnote. It is a defining moment. One that reveals the cracks in the Trump team’s judgment and the urgent need to reinforce the walls around national security—not just with bricks, but with unshakable principles.
Until then, every American has a right to ask:
Mr. President, how did a convicted jihadist end up advising your White House?
