Rep. Darrell Issa announced Friday he will not seek reelection, closing a quarter-century career in Congress and immediately endorsing San Diego County Supervisor Jim Desmond to carry the Republican banner in California's newly redrawn 48th District.
Fox News reported that the announcement came the same day Desmond withdrew from the race for the 49th District and began the filing process to run in Issa's seat.
Issa was blunt about the math: he could have won. "First, we built the right campaign infrastructure, support has been overwhelming — including from President Trump — and our polling was unmistakable: We would win this race," he said.
He chose retirement anyway. That's not defeat. That's a man deciding, on his own terms, when the chapter ends.
Stepping down after 25 years in Congress and another 25 in business was not an easy decision. Few men accumulate that kind of record on both sides of the public-private divide, and fewer still leave while they're still winning. Issa didn't wait to be carried out.
"But after a quarter-century in Congress — and before that, a quarter-century in business — it's the right time for a new chapter and new challenges."
That's the statement of a man who ran toward something, not away from it. Whatever the next chapter holds, Issa exits the People's House with his record intact and his dignity undamaged, which is more than most can say.
If Issa's career had a defining cause in its final act, it was the decade-long fight to secure the Congressional Medal of Honor for retired Navy Captain Royce Williams, known as the "Secret Soldier of the Korean War."
First Lady Melania Trump surprised Williams with the Medal of Honor during the State of the Union address, the first ever awarded at the event, making Williams, 100, the oldest living veteran to receive the military's highest honor.
The story of how Williams finally received that recognition is the kind of thing that restores faith in what dogged public service can actually accomplish. On November 18, 1952, Williams and three other Navy pilots encountered seven Soviet MiGs.
Williams, flying an F9F-5 Panther, shot down four MiG-15s in 35 minutes. When he somehow landed his plane back on the aircraft carrier, it was riddled with more than 260 perforations from the Soviet fighters. He was then ordered to keep the entire engagement secret. He did, for decades.
Issa spent ten years trying to get Williams what he was owed. He described the fight in terms that go beyond legislative box-checking:
"For a decade, my team and I waged a nonstop fight for Royce, and we were turned down on his behalf more times than I can remember. But that all changed this year. President Trump made Royce's award possible, and when I witnessed the First Lady place the Medal of Honor on my hero, it was more than just a job done. It felt like a career accomplishment."
That single moment may explain more about why Issa chose now to step away than any political calculation. Some things, when finished, feel finished.
Issa didn't leave the seat to chance. He moved quickly to consolidate support behind Desmond, and his case for the endorsement was specific:
"Jim is not only a personal friend, he's a true patriot, a Navy veteran, a successful businessman, and has a 20-year record of public service. He understands this community, was born and raised here, and will make a terrific Congressman."
San Diego County Supervisor Jim Desmond, a U.S. Navy veteran and Republican, announced his campaign for Congress in California's 48th Congressional District following the retirement of Congressman Darrell Issa. According to the campaign, Desmond has so far raised over $1.5 million. For a candidate who just switched district races, that's a strong financial foundation going into a competitive fight.
The NRCC made its position clear. Spokesman Christian Martinez offered a pointed contrast between the Republican candidate and the Democrats circling the open seat:
"We are optimistic that this district will continue to be represented by a Republican who will stand for common sense and reject the radical agenda and chaos that progressive Marni von Wilpert and socialist Ammar Campa-Najjar would bring."
The race for California's 48th District was recently redrawn under Proposition 50 to be more blue-leaning. California Democrats didn't win the 48th at the ballot box. They redrew it from the map room.
That's the modern California playbook: when you can't beat Republicans, redraw their districts until the math changes. Voters ratified the new map, yes, but the architects were Sacramento Democrats who decided competitive elections were an inconvenience.
In the 48th District, two Democratic candidates, Ammar Campa-Najjar, a former opponent of Issa, and San Diego city council member Marni von Wilpert, lead a crowded field eager to flip the district blue. Both have attacked Desmond before he's cast a single congressional vote. The energy on the left is real. So is the money pouring in from outside the district.
Issa sees that dynamic as a symptom of something deeper. In a phone interview, Issa argued Congress has "diminished itself," citing stagnant pay and the growing influence of outside money in elections.
"They have really, unfortunately, allowed outside money to exceed inside money in elections," he said. He's right, and the 48th District race will be a live demonstration of exactly that problem.
"More people live and die with social media rather than substance," Issa said, "and I'm hoping that there's a pendulum there. You know, some of only Congress can change." That's the kind of honest institutional self-criticism that rarely survives Washington long enough to get said out loud. Issa earned the right to say it.
The institution he's leaving behind is one where outside PAC money increasingly drowns out constituent voices, where social media performance replaces policy substance, and where gerrymandering by both parties corrodes genuine electoral competition.
Issa didn't fix any of that. Neither did anyone else. But naming it clearly on the way out is more than most departing members manage.
Issa made one thing plain: he's not coasting to the exit. "There is still work to be done throughout 2026 both in Washington and my beloved current 48th District — and as many days that remain, I'll dedicate each one of them to the people I serve and the indispensable nation I have sworn to protect as a soldier in the Army and as a proud and grateful Member of the People's House of Representatives," he said.
Twenty-five years. A Medal of Honor finally delivered. A successor endorsed. A warning issued to the institution on the way out the door.
Now the 48th District decides what comes next.