A late-night, tipsy street interview about ICE went viral. Meet the Minnesota janitor who filmed it

His bio calls it “fake news,” but the videos he posts on social media feel as real as it gets. At bar close, Bam Turay sets up on the sidewalk with a camera and two lights and lets strangers come to him. He asks them about hot-button issues of the moment, and they answer candidly and unfiltered, sometimes aided by a familiar truth serum: alcohol.

The approach has turned Turay’s late-night interviews, filmed in downtown Minneapolis and near the University of Minnesota, into a growing social media presence. But one clip, recorded recently near campus, pushed his project beyond its usual audience.

In the video, an apparent University of Minnesota student, presumably intoxicated but strikingly articulate, speaks forcefully about recent ICE raids in Minnesota, while a friend chimes in with tipsy agreement. The speaker compares the raids to historical atrocities and sharply criticizes the voters he believes are responsible. The clip spread quickly, drawing millions of views across platforms.

The student did not respond to the Star Tribune’s request for an interview, but Turay explained how the moment came together, and why he thinks his videos are hitting a nerve.

Turay, 25, works as a janitor during the week and runs the video project on his own on weekends. He handles the camera and lighting, edits the videos with the help of AI, and posts clips across Instagram, TikTok, Facebook and YouTube.

He posts under the name Minnesota Burning, a nod to the film “Mississippi Burning” and to the structure of his interviews. Each outing centers on one “burning” political question tied to the news cycle, followed by a lighter “cold” question meant to defuse tension or reveal something personal.

Turay launched the accounts in October, but the idea had been taking shape for years.

Turay, who was born in Liberia and now lives in Oakdale, describes his own politics as largely liberal but “in the middle,” with views that have shifted over time.

Two years ago, after a personal medical and legal situation made him aware of a policy issue he wanted to change, he realized that having a following could help him make a difference. Turay bought video equipment, taught himself how to use it and drew on years of listening to pundits across the political spectrum. He even started working out, thinking that young men near campus might be more likely to approach him to talk about fitness. It worked: People now regularly stop to ask about his exercise routine, then stay to answer his questions.

Turay doesn’t call himself a journalist. He doesn’t debate or fact-check in real time. Instead, he listens, then introduces a counterpoint, Here’s what someone on the other side would say; what do you think? He says that approach helped draw out the reaction that made the ICE video take off.

“I’m not trying to expose anyone or make someone look stupid,” Turay said. “It’s just spreading awareness.”

He’s not having a debate, either.

That dynamic has played out on other topics he’s tackled on the sidewalk, from questions about Somalis in Minnesota to asking whether President Donald Trump should be considered a sexual predator.

He believes the ICE interview took off in part because of timing — his account had been gaining traction — but mostly because of the speaker himself. The student, though seemingly intoxicated, delivered his views with a clarity and conviction that caught viewers off guard.

“He had a strong moral argument, so that’s one reason,” Turay said. “And two, I pulled it out of him — without me actually telling him what to say.”

The reaction varied by platform. Facebook users, who skew older and more conservative, were critical. “The Future of America. We’re all doomed!” wrote one commenter. “Dumb and Dumber,” wrote another.

But on Instagram users, who skew younger, were good-natured and lightly amused.