White House: Rubio Briefed Gang Of Eight Before Iran Op
White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt said Saturday that Secretary of State Marco Rubio notified senior congressional leaders ahead of the joint U.S. Israeli military operation against Iran. Leavitt’s statement, posted to X, came as critics questioned whether President Donald Trump authorized the strikes without the required approval from Congress.
“President Trump monitored the situation overnight at Mar a Lago alongside members of his national security team. The President spoke with Prime Minister Netanyahu by phone,” Leavitt wrote.
“Prior to the attacks, Secretary Rubio called all members of the gang of eight to provide congressional notification, and he was able to reach and brief seven of the eight members,” she added.
“The President and his national security team will continue to closely monitor the situation throughout the day.”
Leavitt did not indicate whether Trump would return to Washington or remain at his Florida residence.
The so-called “Gang of Eight” includes the Senate and House majority and minority leaders, as well as the chairs and ranking members of the House and Senate intelligence committees. House Speaker Mike Johnson (R-La.) confirmed that the group had been briefed.
“The Gang of Eight was briefed in detail earlier this week about potential military action against Iran,” Johnson said, according to The Independent.
Under the 1947 National Security Act, Congress must be kept “fully informed” of significant intelligence activities.
However, according to the Harvard Kennedy School, presidents from both parties have interpreted that language to mean that notifying the “Gang of Eight” satisfies the requirement rather than briefing the full intelligence committees.
Leavitt’s comments followed criticism from Rep. Thomas Massie, R Ky., who wrote on X, “Acts of war unauthorized by Congress.”
Massie and Rep. Ro Khanna, D Calif., had planned to force a vote next week that would restrict Trump’s ability to launch strikes on Iran without formal congressional authorization.
As the debate over war powers intensified, Rubio announced Friday that Iran had been designated a state sponsor of wrongful detention.
“When the Iranian regime seized power 47 years ago, Ayatollah Khomeini consolidated his control of power by endorsing the hostage taking of US embassy staff,” Rubio said in a statement.
“For decades, Iran has continued to cruelly detain innocent Americans, as well as citizens of other nations, to use as political leverage against other states. This abhorrent practice must end.”
Rubio said Trump signed an executive order last fall to protect U.S. nationals from wrongful detention abroad and that Congress later enacted the Countering Wrongful Detention Act of 2025.
“The Iranian regime must stop taking hostages and release all Americans unjustly detained in Iran, steps that could end this designation and associated actions,” Rubio said.
The statement warned of further measures if Iran “does not stop,” including a potential “geographic travel restriction on the use of US passports to, through, or from Iran.”
Amid the escalating tensions, the State Department announced Saturday that Rubio had canceled a planned trip to Israel.
“Due to current circumstances, Secretary Rubio will no longer travel to Israel on March 2,” Assistant Secretary of State for Global Public Affairs Dylan Johnson wrote on X.
The White House has maintained that congressional leaders were properly notified and that the president acted within his authority as commander in chief.
SHE THOUGHT KICKING A PREGNANT WIFE IN THE HOSPITAL WOULD END THE MARRIAGE — UNTIL THE BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND SAW THE TRUTH WITH HIS OWN EYES.
The low, vibrating chime of Marcus’s phone seemed to echo in the sudden, absolute silence of the VIP hospital suite. Outside the large glass windows, the distant murmur of the charity fundraiser gala continued, a stark contrast to the thick, suffocating tension that had gripped the room.
Marcus slowly pulled the phone from his tuxedo pocket. His eyes never left Isabella as his thumb swiped across the screen, playing the high-definition security footage sent directly by his head of security.
On the screen, there was no ambiguity. There was no "self-defense." The footage clearly showed Isabella lunging at me, her face twisted in a mask of pure malice as she shoved my seven-month-pregnant body into the side table. It showed the champagne glass shattering, and most horrifying of all, it captured the exact second her pointed red heel drove brutally into my abdomen while I lay helpless on the floor.
A muscle ticked violently in Marcus’s jaw. The cold, calculated billionaire who ran Thorne Enterprises—the man who prided himself on being five steps ahead of every competitor, every investor, and every enemy—looked completely paralyzed by the sheer weight of his own blindness.
"Marcus, honey, you can't believe whatever she's trying to play at," Isabella stammered, her voice rising an octave as she took a tentative step toward him, her hands reaching out to touch his lapel. "Khloe has been unstable for weeks. She’s jealous because she knows you don't love her. She staged this! She threw herself into that table just to make me look like a monster!"
"Get away from her," Marcus whispered.
The words were so quiet, so devoid of emotion, that Isabella froze mid-step.
"What?" she blinked, her polished, glamorous facade cracking completely.
"I said," Marcus raised his head, his piercing dark eyes locking onto hers with a lethal, suffocating intensity that made the gala coordinator behind him take a step back into the hallway, "get your hands off me, and step away from my wife."
"Marcus—"
"Michael!" Marcus roared, his voice cutting through the room like a physical blow.
Instantly, three burly men in dark suits and communication earpieces pushed past the coordinator into the room. The leader, Michael, looked at the blood on the floor near my maternity gown and his expression hardened into stone.
"Sir?" Michael asked, his hand resting near his holster.
"Secure Isabella Rossi," Marcus commanded, his voice trembling with a terrifying blend of absolute authority and suffocating rage. "Take her to the holding room in the basement. If she attempts to leave, if she attempts to make a single phone call, use whatever force is necessary. Notify the Chief of Police that I am filing charges for attempted murder and felony assault on a pregnant woman."
"Attempted murder?!" Isabella shrieked as Michael and another guard gripped her upper arms, effortlessly pinning her arms behind her back. Her expensive red dress twisted around her frame as she struggled against their grip. "Marcus, you can't do this to me! My father is your primary investor! If you lock me up, the Rossi Group will liquidate every single share of Thorne Enterprises by midnight! You'll be ruined!"
Marcus didn't even look at her as she was dragged out of the room, her high heels scuffing loudly against the hardwood floor, her screams fading down the private VIP corridor.
The moment the doors hissed shut behind her, Marcus dropped to his knees on the carpet, completely ignoring the shards of broken glass that sliced into the expensive fabric of his tuxedo. His hands were shaking violently as he reached out toward me, but he stopped short of touching me, as if terrified that his very presence would cause me more pain.
"Khloe..." he breathed, his voice raw, stripped entirely of the smooth arrogance he usually carried. "Khloe, look at me. I’m here. I’m right here. Don't close your eyes."
A searing, blinding pain tore across my lower abdomen, making me gasp for air. I tightly curled into a ball on the floor, my fingers digging into my white maternity gown, which was rapidly staining with a terrifying, deep crimson hue.
"The... the baby," I choked out, a tear spilling over my eyelid and mixing with the sweat on my forehead. "Marcus... he’s not moving. Please... help him."
"Medical team!" Marcus screamed toward the door, his composure breaking entirely as he saw the blood. "Get the Chief of Obstetrics up here right now! If anyone hesitates, I will burn this entire hospital to the ground!"
Within seconds, the room was swarmed by medical staff in blue scrubs. A gurney was pushed to my side, and I was carefully lifted onto it. As the world began to blur around the edges from the sheer agony and blood loss, I felt a strong, calloused hand wrap tightly around mine.
Marcus was running alongside the gurney as they pushed me toward the emergency operating theater. His face was pale, his eyes wide with a horrific realization that had come far too late.
"I've got you, Khloe," he pleaded, his voice cracking as he squeezed my hand. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just hold on. Please, just hold on for our son."
I looked up at the harsh fluorescent lights of the ceiling as the heavy double doors of the operating room swung open. Our son, he had called him. For months, Marcus had treated this pregnancy like a corporate obligation, a cold arrangement to secure his family’s legacy while he allowed Isabella to whisper poison in his ear. But as the darkness finally rushed in to swallow me whole, I knew one thing with absolute certainty: if my baby didn't survive this night, there would be nothing left of Marcus Thorne’s world to salvage.
