Terrifying Aftermath: Elon Musk’s DOGE Army Leaves White House Offices in Ruin, Drugs and Damage Uncovered

In a scandal that is sending shockwaves through Washington and beyond, new reports reveal that Elon Musk’s controversial Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) left behind a trail of chaos, destruction, and alleged drug use after being removed from the premises of several government-related offices, including the prestigious United States Institute of Peace (USIP).

The revelations come amid growing scrutiny over Musk’s role in the Trump administration and the shadowy inner workings of DOGE, a now-defunct experimental agency that promised to eliminate waste but instead has allegedly left a legacy of disorder, intimidation, and recklessness.

The most damning evidence emerged in a viral photo showing what appears to be a pile of marijuana in an office trash can, reportedly discovered by USIP staff after DOGE operatives vacated the building. The image, shared by Economist journalist Daniel Knowles on Bluesky, was described as part of “DOGE’s legacy at USIP,” stirring fury and disbelief across social media.

The discovery adds fuel to the fire of an already volatile situation, with USIP officials alleging that their building was forcibly occupied by DOGE in March 2025 and left in shambles by the time they regained control in May.

George E. Moose, acting president and CEO of USIP, submitted a sworn affidavit to a Washington, D.C., court detailing the shocking state of the premises. According to Moose, the building had suffered significant damage, including missing ceiling tiles, water leaks, a broken garage door, and even graffiti scrawled on outdoor surfaces.

“Among other things, they reported evidence of rats and roaches in the building. Vermin were not a problem prior to March 17,” Moose testified. He went on to describe the presence of a minimal cleaning crew that seemed powerless to address the growing mess left by DOGE’s operation.

Moose’s affidavit aligns with social media reports by former USIP staff and supporters, including a post by Keith Mines that described how the DOGE team’s first act was to dismantle the institute’s symbolic logo. Upon the building’s recovery, one of the first restorative acts was to reinstall the logo—an emblem of peace, diplomacy, and decades of bipartisan cooperation.

The gesture underscored the symbolic battle that had taken place: a technocratic crusade led by Musk’s DOGE versus one of the nation’s oldest institutes for peaceful global conflict resolution.

DOGE’s brief but turbulent occupation of the building is now under intense legal and political scrutiny. Created as part of President Trump’s second-term initiative to cut government waste, DOGE was helmed by Elon Musk and initially sold as a revolutionary tool for streamlining federal agencies.

But what followed was anything but efficient. Instead, what unfolded appears to have been an unprecedented hijacking of institutional infrastructure, underpinned by political hostility and apparent disregard for rule of law.

The damage was not limited to the physical. USIP officials allege that the DOGE team tore apart the institute’s IT infrastructure, took down its official website, destroyed sensitive research documents, and seized control of the agency’s financial resources. “They erased over 40 years of research and institutional history,” one employee told MSNBC’s Rachel Maddow. “It was as if they didn’t just want the building—they wanted to wipe out everything it ever stood for.”

The chaos was compounded by Musk’s controversial appointment of 28-year-old Nate Cavanaugh, a college dropout with no background in government or diplomacy, as the new head of USIP during the DOGE occupation. The appointment was widely criticized as emblematic of DOGE’s lack of seriousness and the deeply personal, almost cult-like decision-making structure that governed its inner circle.

Cavanaugh’s brief tenure saw a mass firing attempt against USIP’s long-standing staff and an effort to rebrand the institution as a “center for American excellence” that would toe Musk and Trump’s ideological line.

The backlash has been swift. Legal challenges led to a court-ordered stay on DOGE’s occupation of the building, and USIP was eventually reinstated in May. But the damage—both literal and figurative—has left a scar that may take years to heal.

The institution is now grappling with the enormous task of reconstructing its archives, rebuilding trust among international partners, and restoring its core mission of promoting peace in an era increasingly defined by domestic polarization and foreign disillusionment with U.S. leadership.

As the debris is swept away, attention has turned to Elon Musk himself, whose personal behavior is now being brought under new scrutiny. Following reports from the New York Times about Musk’s alleged use of drugs including Ecstasy, ketamine, and psilocybin mushrooms during the 2024 election season, the billionaire has vehemently denied the claims.

“To be clear, I am NOT taking drugs!” Musk tweeted in response. “The New York Times was lying their ass off.” He added that while he had previously used prescription ketamine for depression, it was in the past and not ongoing.

Nevertheless, the allegations are mounting. Witnesses reportedly saw Musk carry a pill box marked with stimulants like Adderall, and some insiders claimed his drug use became so frequent that it caused visible side effects, including bladder issues. These personal issues, combined with the anarchic legacy left behind by DOGE, are prompting a broader reevaluation of Musk’s political influence and decision-making capacity.

While the DOGE project was originally pitched as an anti-corruption initiative to streamline bloated bureaucracies, what transpired appears instead to have been a cautionary tale of unchecked power. Critics argue that DOGE became a tool for political vendettas and ideological cleansing, targeting institutions like USIP that didn’t align with Trump and Musk’s vision of what government should be.

Even within Republican circles, doubts have begun to surface. Although many conservatives initially backed DOGE as a symbol of outsider innovation, the chaos surrounding its administration and departure is leading to quiet but growing discomfort.

There is a widening gap between those who still see Musk as a visionary savior and those who worry that his erratic leadership style may be doing more harm than good—not just to federal institutions but to the conservative cause as a whole.

For now, the focus remains on damage control. USIP is reconstituting its board, recovering deleted documents, and attempting to resume its operations. But its path forward is fraught with difficulty. Financial resources remain tight, and staff morale has been shaken. Meanwhile, the broader implications of the DOGE fiasco are still unfolding in Congress and the courts.

As investigations continue into the takeover and aftermath, the story of DOGE serves as a grim warning of what can happen when experimental politics meets billion-dollar egos. Far from a sleek, Silicon Valley-style disruption of government inefficiency, DOGE now appears more like a digital-age siege—one that left behind trash, trauma, and a nation questioning how far is too far when it comes to “draining the swamp.”

In the end, the most terrifying legacy of Musk’s DOGE experiment may not be the broken ceiling tiles or the marijuana left in a trash can, but the dangerous precedent it sets for future political operatives looking to rewrite the rules of governance in their own image. As America looks ahead to the next chapter of its political evolution, one thing is certain: DOGE’s wreckage will not be easily forgotten.