For nearly five hours last Monday, Elon Musk’s government cost-cutting team joined with private security and with law enforcement authorities for an extraordinary showdown at an iconic building alongside the National Mall.
They were demanding access to the U.S. Institute of Peace. The group, a nonprofit created by Congress 41 years ago, supports diplomatic solutions to global conflicts, but on this day it became the hub of a bitter dispute with implications for U.S. constitutional law.
The confrontation stemmed from the White House’s decision this month to orchestrate the ouster of the institute’s president and top staff. When they refused to leave, a State Department official, alongside Mr. Musk’s team, the Department of Government Efficiency, moved to take control. By the end of the night, the office was occupied by new staff and a president backed by the Trump administration.
A New York Times reconstruction of the takeover — based on reporting from the scene as well as photographic evidence, interviews and court records — underscores the aggressive moves that the White House and Mr. Musk’s team have employed to assert power over Washington institutions. In this case, DOGE staff allegedly threatened to cancel all federal contracts held by the organization’s private security firm if it did not help them gain entry to the building and used the local police to assist them.
Now the matter is in court. At issue is whether President Trump had the power to take over an independent organization, albeit one whose board includes government officials and others confirmed by the Senate. The fired staff members said in the lawsuit that it was a “lawless assault,” but the administration argues that the institute is part of the executive branch and under the president’s authority.
The institute’s independence was clearly delineated in the law that established it, signed by President Ronald Reagan at the height of the Cold War. It mandated that the organization “promote international peace and the resolution of conflicts among the nations and peoples of the world without recourse to violence.” It trains peace negotiators and diplomats and briefs Congress.
Now, the dispute over the institute is a prominent test case for Mr. Trump’s broader efforts to extend the executive branch’s power over other groups and agencies long considered to be largely independent.
In recent days, for instance, he has moved to fire Democrats on the Federal Trade Commission after similar moves at the National Labor Relations Board. DOGE members locked staff out of a small African aid agency in the weeks before they entered the Institute of Peace.
Judge Beryl Howell of U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia denied an initial emergency request by the peace institute’s ousted staff to stop the administration from taking it over. But she expressed alarm at DOGE’s tactics.
“All that targeting, probably terrorizing of employees and staff at the institute when there are so many other lawful ways to accomplish the goals?” Judge Howell said. “Why? Just because DOGE was in a rush?”
Brian P. Hudak, a lawyer from the U.S. attorney’s office in Washington, said that it was misleading to call last Monday’s events an “assault,” as the institute did in its initial lawsuit and that calling the police was reasonable after the institute’s staff locked themselves inside the building. “When a government official is denied access to a work space where they are compelled to go and do work as a matter of law, and someone is standing in their way saying, I’m not letting you do that?” Mr. Hudak said. “I think that’s a big problem.”
The White House press secretary, Karoline Leavitt, called the institute’s ousted staff “rogue bureaucrats.”
“This is what DOGE and this administration is facing: It’s a resistance from bureaucrats who don’t want to see change in this city,” Ms. Leavitt said.
The dispute at the Institute of Peace began on a Friday, March 14, when Trent Morse, the deputy director of the White House Office of Presidential Personnel, fired all 10 voting members of the organization’s board — five Democrats and five Republicans — laying the ground work for a takeover. DOGE tried to enter the building twice that day, bringing what they called a formal resolution removing George Moose, the institute’s acting president, and installing Kenneth Jackson, a State Department employee, in his place.
The resolution was signed by the three board members who had not been fired: Secretary of State Marco Rubio, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth and Vice Admiral Peter A. Garvin, the president of National Defense University.
Over that weekend, Colin O’Brien, the institute’s head of security, posted “No Trespassing” signs on the building’s front entrance — an ominous precursor to the events that would soon unfold.
The Times was at the scene last Monday as the institute’s ousted staff and the administration came face to face over who would control the building. Here is how it played out:
Monday, March 17
5:00 a.m.
Mr. O’Brien arrived at the office early, followed by other top staff, including Mr. Moose, who had refused to accept his removal.
Notably absent were guards from Inter-Con, the private contractor that typically provides security for the institute. Mr. O’Brien, who had suspected that the Trump administration would ask Inter-Con for help entering the building, had recommended the institute suspend its contract with the firm. Inter-Con had acknowledged the suspension in an email the night before. Inter-Con did not respond to requests for comment.
Three vehicles pulled up outside. One was a black S.U.V. with government license plates. Inside was Mr. Jackson, who in addition to his new role at the institute would also be promoted to be deputy administrator for management and resources at the State Department. Mr. Jackson, who did not respond to requests for comment, had helped dismantle the U.S. Agency for International Development.
Also in the S.U.V. were Justin Aimonetti, a lawyer with Mr. Musk’s team and Nate Cavanaugh, a technology employee for Mr. Musk’s team. Mr. Moose, in court documents, said he was told in a meeting last month that Mr. Cavanaugh had been named as DOGE’s lead for its efforts at the institute. Mr. Aimonetti and Mr. Cavanaugh did not respond to requests for comment.
A sign on the S.U.V.’s dashboard read “U.S.A.I.D.” but the driver hastily removed it when a Times photographer tried to take a photograph.
The two other cars were driven by Inter-Con security personnel, Mr. O’Brien said. He wasn’t surprised to see them but had hoped that suspending the contract would have avoided a confrontation with security employees he had come to know well and respect. “I didn’t want these people, who were good people, to get put in the middle,” Mr. O’Brien said.
The Inter-Con employees tried to use their institute badges to enter the building via tap access. The badges didn’t work. When the Inter-Con contract was suspended the night before, Mr. O’Brien said, institute staff had ended the private security workers’ badge access and collected all keys — except for one.
Unable to enter through the front doors, the Inter-Con employees approached a side entrance. Mr. O’Brien said that Inter-Con’s Kevin Simpson, who managed the company’s contract with the institute, had held onto a master key, which he used to enter the building and bring the others with him.
Mr. O’Brien and two lawyers for the institute ran downstairs to confront them. “We informed them that they are not authorized to be in the building,” Mr. O’Brien said.
Then, according to a court filing by Mr. O’Brien, one of the Inter-Con employees, company vice president Derrick Hanna, offered an explanation for their involvement. “DOGE threatened to cancel every federal contract Inter-Con held if they did not come to the USIP building and let Kenneth Jackson inside,” Mr. O’Brien recalled Mr. Hanna saying.
Inter-Con has been paid more than $2 billion in federal funds since 2007, primarily in contracts with the State Department, according to government spending data.
The White House did not respond to questions about Inter-Con’s involvement and its government contracts. Inter-Con did not respond to requests for comment. Both Mr. Hanna and Mr. Simpson did not respond to emailed questions.
One of the Inter-Con employees directed his colleagues to go to the building’s gun safe, Mr. O’Brien recalls, Mr. O’Brien then initiated a full lockdown of the building, sealing all doors.
2:59 p.m.
Mr. O’Brien then dialed 911 on his personal cellphone and tossed it to George Foote, a lawyer who was representing the institute at the time and would later be fired by the new leadership. Mr. Foote told a dispatcher that four people were in the building without authorization. The dispatcher promised to call Mr. Foote back.
Outside, Mr. Jackson, the newly appointed institute president, and the DOGE team members rushed toward the same door the Inter-Con employees had used earlier, but they were not able to open it, Mr. O’Brien said, because he had locked down all the doors.
Mr. Jackson and the others then scurried around the building, followed by reporters. They did not respond to shouted questions and did not find another entrance before returning to the S.U.V.
4:00 p.m.
Mr. Foote and Sophia Lin, another lawyer for the institute at the time, exited the building and approached the S.U.V. to speak with Mr. Jackson, who according to court documents, remarked about the “circus” of journalists outside the building.
Ms. Lin, leaning over to speak into the open passenger-side window, declined an invitation from Mr. Jackson to talk inside the vehicle.
“I mean, I don’t know where you’re going to take us,” she said as rush-hour traffic backed up, horns blaring.
As the curbside negotiations proceeded, the U.S. attorney’s office in Washington called the Washington Metropolitan Police Department, according to a police statement.
The U.S. attorney’s office connected the D.C. police with Mr. Jackson, who showed them documents proving he had authority to enter the building, the police said in the statement. He told the police that the others inside were “unauthorized individuals” refusing to leave and not letting him in, according to the statement.
5:30 p.m.
More than two hours after Mr. Foote spoke to a 911 operator, the police then called him to tell him that they were outside the building.
The police would later say that they had arrived at Mr. Jackson’s request. But Mr. Foote, under the impression that the police had responded to his 911 call, sent Mr. O’Brien to greet the officers. Soon, four officers were in the building.
An officer opened the door, allowing in Mr. Jackson, the two Musk team members and a group of local police.
Mr. O’Brien said he then initiated a “full building shutdown,” so that none of the interior or exterior doors could be opened from inside or outside except for doors that could take a master key. He also locked down the information technology network. He declined to escort the newly installed staff throughout the building when asked. The police escorted him, Mr. Foote, Ms. Lin and some of the institute’s other top staff outside.
“DOGE just came into the building,” Ms. Lin told a Times reporter via phone as she was led out. “They’re inside the building — they’re bringing the F.B.I. and brought a bunch of D.C. police.”
Mr. Moose, still in his office on the fifth floor when the lockdown began, remained there with Anna Dean, the institute’s chief of staff.
Representatives of the D.C. police and the U.S. attorney’s office declined to comment. The F.B.I. last Monday directed inquiries to the Justice Department, which did not respond to a request for comment.
After about an hour, Mr. Jackson, accompanied by the police, found Mr. Moose and Ms. Dean in the president’s office.
The police escorted Mr. Moose and Ms. Dean outside. They were not allowed to collect their personal belongings, including car keys, Mr. O’Brien recalled. At that point, Mr. O’Brien said in his court declaration, he saw eight D.C. police officers at the front door. He said he saw the police carrying a kit inside to pick locks.
The standoff was over.
Mr. O’Brien, unable to drive his car out of the garage, took an Uber home. On his way, he received a call from Mr. Simpson, the Inter-Con official, asking for his help to unlock the institute’s doors, which were all sealed when he initiated the lockdown earlier.
He declined.
9:15 p.m.
Six pizzas from All Purpose Pizza in Washington arrived at the building. Half an hour earlier, Mr. Cavanaugh, the DOGE technology staffer, had ordered a delivery from Sweetgreen: two harvest bowls and a plate of hot honey chicken.
9:50 p.m.
Mr. Jackson was visible through windows seated in the president’s office as others appeared to be consulting with him.
They were now in control of the building.
Eric Lee, Kent Nishimura and Greg Kendall-Ball contributed reporting from Washington.
