
Trump Blasts Fox News Host Shannon Bream Over Ballroom Questions
The Fox anchor asked one simple question, and the president lost his Sunday.
Anna Lee ·
His own father-in-law is a senator, and he wants him gone.

Max Miller is a two-term Republican congressman from Ohio, a former White House aide in Trump's first term, and a guy who currently has one of the strangest problems in American politics. His own former father-in-law, a sitting United States senator, has publicly said Miller does not belong in Congress. Not a rival. Not a Democrat. Family.
Miller, 43, represents Ohio's 7th District near Cleveland. His ex-wife, Emily Moreno, has accused him of domestic abuse in a custody fight that dragged a pile of court records into public view. Miller denies everything, calls the claims lies, and insists he is not dropping out of his November reelection race. Almost nobody in his own party seems eager to stand next to him while he says it.
The allegations are not vague. According to police reports cited in the coverage, Emily Moreno told officers that Miller threw her against a wall, leaving an obvious grab mark on her upper arm. She said he had previously held a gun to her head and thrown hot water on her. The report also recounts her young child telling her "Daddy kill you."
The couple was married from 2022 to 2024 and shares a 2-year-old daughter. Court documents mention the child suffered a broken collarbone under circumstances the filings describe as unexplained. Two things are also true and worth stating flat out: Miller was never charged with a crime, and the Cuyahoga County Division of Children and Family Services investigated the child abuse claims and found them unsubstantiated. Miller's team leans on that hard. His critics say a lack of charges is not the same thing as innocence.
Here is where it stops being a normal political scandal. Emily Moreno's father is Sen. Bernie Moreno, the senior Republican senator from Ohio. He stayed mostly silent for a long stretch while the story built. Then his former son-in-law went online and started talking, and Moreno stopped holding back.
In a post on X, Moreno wrote, "If there are any basic standards of character required to hold elected office, Max Miller fails them. He should not serve in the House of Representatives." He went further in a follow-up, saying Miller "needs to seek professional help to end the clear pattern of abuse he has left in his wake" and "should not be free to continue endangering others." A senator saying that about a fellow Ohio Republican, on the record, with his name attached, is not something you see often. Other Republican colleagues rallied behind Moreno after he spoke, which tells you which way the wind is blowing inside the party.
On a Sunday morning, Miller decided to defend himself with a livestream on X that ran around 20 to 25 minutes. He said he never abused his daughter, denied the allegations against his ex-wife, and declared, "I'm not getting out of this race." He also spent a good chunk of the video accusing Emily Moreno of having mental health issues and lying about their marriage.
Then came the part that took a bad situation and set it on fire. Miller shared a Dropbox link he said contained documents that would clear his name. Minutes later he deleted it. The reason, according to reporting from Politico's Adam Wren, was that the file's metadata appeared to suggest Miller may have used taxpayer resources to create the video. A guy trying to prove he plays by the rules, accidentally advertising the opposite, on his own stream. His attacks on his ex-wife during that broadcast on X are also what finally pushed Bernie Moreno to speak out.
Miller has real ties to Donald Trump. He worked as a presidential aide in the first term, and Trump endorsed him in 2022 and again this cycle. So you might expect a full-throated defense. What Miller got instead was a shrug. Asked about the situation in the Oval Office on a Monday, Trump told reporters he would "let the families figure that out." He separately called Miller "a very good person" but declined to say anything real about the abuse allegations themselves.
Behind the scenes, the message was blunter. Trump spoke with Miller and told him he faces a tough reelection campaign, which Miller himself relayed to the Wall Street Journal. House Speaker Mike Johnson declined to comment when asked about the allegations. Across the House, most Republicans have stayed on the sidelines, avoiding cameras and questions. When your own party's response is silence, that is its own kind of answer.
The whole thing became urgent because of a deadline. Miller had until a Wednesday to withdraw from the ballot. That short window sent Republican leaders scrambling. According to four sources, Trump allies were pushing the president to personally encourage Miller to drop his reelection bid, and some top House Republicans phoned White House officials asking for help before the deadline hit.
The worry driving all of it is not just decency. It is math. Party officials are openly nervous about Miller's electability, which is the polite Washington way of saying they think he could lose a seat they should keep. The people pressing Trump to intervene wanted him to act before the ballot locked. Miller's answer stayed the same the entire time. He is not leaving.
The seat is normally not competitive, which is exactly why Democrats are paying attention now. Their candidate, Brian Poindexter, sees a path in a district that usually shrugs off Democrats. His pitch is simple. He said the allegations "deserve the full attention of law enforcement," and added that if all of them prove true, Miller should be in jail rather than trying to hold a congressional seat.
Voters in the district are talking too, and not kindly. One resident named Cliff Hoy, standing outside a market in Rocky River, said "predators" need to be removed from Washington. That is the fear for Republicans in plain language: not that these voters flip to a Democrat, but that turned-off conservatives simply stay home in November. A depressed base plus an energized opponent is how safe seats become upsets.
Miller is not just accused. He is also suing and being sued from multiple directions. He filed a defamation lawsuit against Emily Moreno, betting he can prove the claims false in court. Meanwhile, former White House press secretary Stephanie Grisham filed her own lawsuit against Miller in early July, alleging he dragged her name into his dispute with Moreno and broke a prior agreement in which the two promised not to disparage each other.
On top of that, lawyers for Emily Moreno asked a judge for a temporary restraining order barring Miller from contact with her attorney, Andrew Zashin. The filing alleges Miller shouted insults and physically grabbed Zashin, and even grabbed the attorney's bag, during a court appearance in Ohio. The Democratic Women's Caucus has called for a House Ethics Committee investigation. The Ethics Committee has refused to say whether it will look into any of it.
Miller's strongest argument is the one his team repeats every chance it gets. A court has continued to allow him joint custody of his daughter. His spokesperson argues that if there were credible evidence behind these accusations, no judge would permit that. It is a fair point, and it is the reason this case is not as simple as the headlines make it look.
But politics does not run on court standards. It runs on optics, endorsements, and whether people want to be seen with you. Right now Miller has a father-in-law senator calling for his removal, a president who will only say "let the families figure that out," a House speaker who won't comment, and voters in his own backyard calling him names. He got branded a "predator" by constituents before a single new charge was ever filed. He says he is innocent and he is staying in the race. The question is whether anyone with power in his party still wants him to.
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