National Sandwich Day was in November, but it was Aug. 10 that marked a truly indigestible moment in our legal history.
That was the day Sean Dunn tossed a sandwich at Customs and Border Protection agent Gregory Lairmore, triggering a prosecution that is a perfect – and frankly absurd – symbol of the Trump-era Justice Department’s aggressive and often unconstitutional policing of dissent.
U.S. District Judge Carl Nichols described the incident as “the simplest case in the world.” And it should have been.
The government’s burden was not just to prove that Dunn had hurled a hoagie at agent Lairmore, but that Dunn caused a “reasonable apprehension of immediate bodily harm.” This requirement would be comical if our tax dollars and precious prosecutorial resources in a jurisdiction already struggling with violent crime had not been so egregiously misspent.
DC sandwich case should have been rejected out of hand
Thankfully, and rightfully, Dunn was acquitted of assault by a jury of his peers on Nov. 6.
Yet even if the government had been able to meet its evidentiary burden, the sheer absurdity of his prosecution made it ripe for jurors to simply say “no.”
Serving on a jury is among the most important things we can do as American citizens. As jurors, we are guardians against government oppression and bulwarks against prosecutorial overreach.
When U.S. Attorney Jeanine Pirro asked 12 Americans to take time away from their jobs and families to sit in judgment over a man whose alleged crime was so unserious that a grand jury initially declined to indict, she made a mockery of our criminal justice system.
Political prosecutions are a Trump calling card
Sadly, this was not the first targeted prosecution from the Trump Justice Department, and it certainly will not be the last. The animus toward Dunn was evident from the August video shared by the White House depicting U.S. marshals raiding Dunn’s apartment, despite the fact that he posed no danger and offered to surrender.
The heavy-handed response was designed not for officer safety, but to send a chilling message.
These tactics are an outgrowth of an expansive and potentially autocratic executive law enforcement philosophy, evoking the notorious principle articulated by Joseph Stalin’s enforcer, Lavrentiy Beria.
In a jurisdiction now saturated with federal offenses, many of which encroach upon matters traditionally reserved to the states, the maxim “show me the man and I’ll show you the crime” operates as a functional reality rather than a theoretical hazard.
This system facilitates selective prosecution. Public dissent against the administration can precipitate an aggressive legal response for minor infractions, and where evidence is lacking, the executive branch may seek a politically amenable prosecutor to execute its mandate.
The botched prosecution of former FBI Director James Comey – whose actions were not all that different from Attorney General Pam Bondi’s recent stonewalling of Congress – illuminates a precarious landscape in which political opposition acts as a catalyst for criminal scrutiny.
Are laws being enforced, or are political enemies being targeted? That is the test these political prosecutions must pass.
When vengeance replaces justice, the system fails. We see this range from the ridiculous, like the farcical probe into the “Seditious Six” congressional members, to the deceptive.
Senior Justice Department official Ed Martin and Federal Housing Finance Agency Director Bill Pulte – both under fire for targeting the president’s foes – are now launching mortgage fraud investigations against prominent Democrats.
The justice system must push back against abuses. Jury is the last line of defense.
While some of these cases may carry a veneer of legitimacy on the surface, they mask an ulterior motive.
Judges can, and should, inquire into these motives and toss cases that appear to be brought not because of what a defendant allegedly did, but because of who he is, as we saw in the conveniently timed federal prosecution of Kilmar Abrego Garcia.
Unfortunately, judges, who are often former courtroom advocates for the government, aren’t always willing to hold the administration accountable.
This makes the jury the last line of defense. When the state targets dissenters, jurors must scrutinize the tactics as much as the evidence.
If the prosecution is a political hit job, the jury has the duty to shut it down. By rendering a verdict of “not guilty,” jurors can stop the government from using the law as a weapon.