Today
marks the twenty-second
anniversary of 9/11. The three-year-old who sat on my lap and
pointed tearfully, not fully understanding, to “my people, my buildings,” on
the computer monitor in front of us just turned 25. Although she still
remembers, many of my law students are now young enough that they have no
memory of that day. Nor does my youngest son, born the following year.
That feels like a substantial dividing line
between generations to me. An older generation that remembers the two days of
empty skies that turned into weeks of looking up every time you heard a plane.
And a younger generation that has always taken for granted long security lines
and shoe removal at airports.
September 11 and the terrorist attack on our country, which shaped so much of our lives in the following years and continues to, to this day, is now history. We were unprepared, but we responded and came together in remarkable, heartfelt ways. A Boston-based flight attendant who had to drive from Chicago to get home told the New York Times a few weeks later that as she drove, “people had put American flags up on every single overpass all the way from Chicago to Boston.”
That history has a sad echo today. We have not come together. We are deeply divided as a country that has come under attack and continues to be threatened by the tide of Trumpism that continues to have a hold on something like 30% of the country and the white supremacist domestic terror groups that Trump has embraced into the fold.
We did not unite during a global pandemic or following an attack
on our Capitol itself. It is as if a third of the country approved of the
attacks that felled the Towers and carved a cleft into the Pentagon. It’s as if
a third of the passengers on Flight 93 supported the hijackers, not their
fellow passengers who downed the plane in a field in Somerset County,
Pennsylvania, so that no one else—other than themselves—would die.
It is unthinkable. It is the ongoing peril that Trump has opened
the country up to, bringing the worst, the fringe groups that serious
Republican leaders would not have tolerated a decade ago, into the mainstream.
But it is the persistent drumbeat of misinformation that fuels the country’s
failure to come together.
After the 1995 bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building
in Oklahoma City, committed by homegrown domestic terrorists, the country did
come together. We watched as the number of dead grew to 168. We covered our
mouths in horror when we learned there was a daycare, and children were among
the victims.
But while no one in the mainstream condoned the act of terror, it was seen as a one-off, not as part of a dangerous development in our country. It’s clear in hindsight we have never taken the risk seriously enough. We must do so now.
We are in a pivotal moment in this country. It comes at a time
when Trump fatigue is high. And yet, it has never been more important to keep
events in focus. Democracy truly could die in darkness. We must continue to
shine light and find ways to share details. Facts have a way of rippling
quietly across the surface and finding a home.
Although the popular mythology says Trump supporters are lost,
again and again I hear stories—we have some among our own friends and family—of
people who began to rethink because a kernel of truth got through to them.
That’s what we need at this point, not agreement on everything, just a
commitment to the ongoing American experiment.
So, we head into another important week, with four criminal
prosecutions and numerous civil cases proceeding against the former president.
In a sign of his break with reality, he still refuses to acknowledge that he
lost in 2020, and reporting just today on
a story about his government-provided post-presidential office in Florida underscores that
the people around him still hesitate to refer to him as the former president.
The charade that he didn’t lose has to be maintained. With Trump, the
ridiculous becomes the expected.
Speaking of ridiculous, George Santos is still a member of the
House of Representatives. That, despite the fact that he has been indicted on
federal fraud charges. The situation goes to demonstrate the depths of House
Speaker Kevin McCarthy’s desperation to hold onto his slim majority as he
contemplates impeachment and the impending government shutdown.
A scheduled pre-trial conference in the case set for last week
has been rescheduled for late October. The government wrote in
a letter to the court that “the parties…continue discussing paths forward in
this matter. The parties wish to have additional time to continue those
discussions.” That’s prosecutor speak that means, we’re talking about a guilty
plea with the defendant. It would be remarkable to have a sitting member of
Congress who has acknowledged his guilt and is on the path to pleading guilty
still part of the caucus and able to vote. 2023.
There is no indication at present that the former president is contemplating even a remote possibility he might plead guilty. And, in the Fulton County case, a federal judge has rejected Mark Meadows’ bid to remove the case to federal court. Meadows’ failure would seem to doom efforts by Jeff Clarke and some of the fake Georgia electors. Evidentiary hearings on those motions are set for the week of September 18, but it’s likely all over but the shouting. Ditto for Trump if he proceeds, although the cautionary tale of Meadows’ difficult turn on the witness stand should cause other defendants to question the wisdom of this path beyond merely suffering a loss.
Here’s why a motion by Trump would be substantively weaker than
what Meadows was able to put forward: Meadows argued that even when Trump was
off and acting in his personal capacity, he, Meadows, as the chief of staff,
was still acting in his official capacity as advisor. That’s true. If the
president decides to go see a football game, he still has to be staffed by
people who are at the ready in case of national emergency or more routine
business that must be handled.
The flaw in Meadows’ argument was that this was not a football
game, it was an effort to steal an election, and he was not involved in
official duties when he tried to interfere in Georgia’s vote count. The
possibility of success for Trump is even more remote. He was acting as
candidate Trump, whose case must be tried in state court, not President Trump
who would have an argument for removal.
Meadows has appealed to the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals. Local rules in the 11th Circuit permit an appeal to be expedited for “good cause shown.” That means it’s up to the judges. I’d expect the Court to act quickly, as it did when it considered Judge Cannon’s rulings limiting DOJ’s access to evidence following the search at Mar-a-Lago. The 11th Circuit process will be facilitated because Judge Jones ordered a full briefing schedule and held an evidentiary hearing, which gives the Court of Appeals a lot of factual detail they can rely on to make their ruling.
On Tuesday,
Fulton County district attorney Fani Willis owes Judge McAfee, the state court
judge who will be trying the case, post-hearing briefs from last week’s
severance hearing. MSNBC anchor and legal analyst Katie Phang, who was in the
courtroom for the hearing, tells me that the judge has questions about the
intersection of the removal issue with double jeopardy. In other words, we’re
now in the weeds of some incredibly complicated legal minutiae.
There are potential complications because the district attorney
still wants to try all 19 defendants together on October 23. The Judge asked how that would play out if some of
the defendants had removal petitions pending on appeal on that date. Here’s the
heart of the matter: once a jury has been sworn in, double jeopardy “attaches.”
Willis only gets one bite at the apple—prosecutors don’t get to try their case
a second time, say, because a court of appeals orders a case to be removed to
federal court. That’s obviously unlikely here, but it’s not beyond the pale.
There are other possible complications as well. The Judge gave Willis the
weekend to contemplate the different ways different rulings could impact the
proceedings before getting back to him.
Ultimately, it makes sense to sever the 17. It’s a complicated
case, and they’re not getting discovery until this week. To avoid due process
problems that could make any convictions Willis obtains susceptible to reversal
on appeal because defendants were forced to go to trial on such a short
timeline, a short delay makes sense. And, as a practical matter, the Judge
might be unable to rule on the flurry of pre-trial motions that would have to
be resolved for all defendants to proceed in October, with only six weeks
between now and the start of trial for the defendants who made speedy trial
requests.
We’ll keep our eyes on Georgia this week, while anticipating the possibility of more developments with Jack Smith’s grand jury in Washington, D.C. Recently, they appear to be looking at Trump’s Georgia co-defendant and Kraken lawyer Sidney Powell over allegations of fraudulent fundraising after the 2020 election, based on some of the reporting.
Finally, I can’t close out tonight without thanking all of you who reached out
here or on social media when Trump, apparently feeling the heat of the steady
drumbeat of losses in both criminal and civil cases against him, took a cheap
shot at the Deputy Attorney General, Lisa Monaco, and included my friend and
colleague Andrew Weissmann and me in his post on Truth Social.
It's unconscionable for any former president to do this, let
alone one who knows there are people in his army of followers who react
unpredictably and sometimes violently to his ranting. The Republican Party that
continues to condone it is complicit.
It is impossible to see Trump calling the Justice Department
“injustice” and baselessly attacking the Deputy Attorney General, the number
two official at DOJ, without wondering whether there is any bottom for the
party that used to bill itself as the party of law and order, the party that
supported law enforcement. Now, it’s a party that condones attacks by its front
runner for the presidency in 2024 on private citizens.
Sometimes, and especially with the daily barrage of inane
behavior from Trump, it’s easy to lose sight of the forest for the trees. But
Trump continues to show us who he is. He is still the person who rode down an
escalator and dubbed Mexicans criminals and rapists. He is still the man who
made fun of a reporter with a disability, criticized a federal judge over his
ethnicity, and stood by, heartless, after he put policies in place that ripped
babies from their mothers’ arms at the border. He might as well have been the
one wearing the “I really don’t care, do u?” jacket Melania sported on her
visit to the border.
I’ve lost track of all the times Trump named, implicitly
targeting, people who served our government, like Colonel Alexander Vindman and
FBI agent Pete Strzok. Trump relentlessly attacked people who should have been
his political partners from the loyal opposition. His refusal to refrain from
doing so led to the brutal attack on Speaker Pelosi’s husband.
Yet Trump stood silent as an attack was launched on the Capitol
with members of the Congress, including those from his own party, inside. And
his comments, his unfair, untrue, comments about Georgia election workers Ruby
Freeman and Shaye Moss damaged their lives and for what purpose? So Trump could
hold onto power. That’s what all of this is about. It’s never about service,
and it’s not about making America great. It’s about Trump and only Trump.
There will be verdicts forthcoming in his criminal and civil
cases. But there should be no doubt about the verdict in the court of public
opinion. Trump wasn’t worthy to serve in the first place and shouldn’t be
returned to office. He keeps telling us. The question is whether, when it
counts, when they vote, enough Americans will believe him.
We’re in this together,
Joyce Vance
The Names by Billy Collins
ReplyDeleteYesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night.
A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze,
And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows,
I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened,
Then Baxter and Calabro,
Davis and Eberling, names falling into place
As droplets fell through the dark.
Names printed on the ceiling of the night.
Names slipping around a watery bend.
Twenty-six willows on the banks of a stream.
In the morning, I walked out barefoot
Among thousands of flowers
Heavy with dew like the eyes of tears,
And each had a name --
Fiori inscribed on a yellow petal
Then Gonzalez and Han, Ishikawa and Jenkins.
Names written in the air
And stitched into the cloth of the day.
A name under a photograph taped to a mailbox.
Monogram on a torn shirt,
I see you spelled out on storefront windows
And on the bright unfurled awnings of this city.
I say the syllables as I turn a corner --
Kelly and Lee, Medina, Nardella, and O'Connor.
When I peer into the woods,
I see a thick tangle where letters are hidden
As in a puzzle concocted for children.
Parker and Quigley in the twigs of an ash,
Rizzo, Schubert, Torres, and Upton,
Secrets in the boughs of an ancient maple.
Names written in the pale sky.
Names rising in the updraft amid buildings.
Names silent in stone
Or cried out behind a door.
Names blown over the earth and out to sea.
In the evening -- weakening light, the last swallows.
A boy on a lake lifts his oars.
A woman by a window puts a match to a candle,
And the names are outlined on the rose clouds -
Vanacore and Wallace,
(let X stand, if it can, for the ones unfound)
Then Young and Ziminsky, the final jolt of Z.
Names etched on the head of a pin.
One name spanning a bridge,
another undergoing a tunnel.
A blue name needled into the skin.
Names of citizens, workers, mothers and fathers,
The bright-eyed daughter, the quick son.
Alphabet of names in a green field.
Names in the small tracks of birds.
Names lifted from a hat
Or balanced on the tip of the tongue.
Names wheeled into the dim
warehouse of memory.
So many names, there is barely room
on the walls of the heart.
To a Terrorist by Stephen Dunn
ReplyDeleteFor the historical ache, the ache passed down
which finds its circumstance and becomes
the present ache, I offer this poem
without hope, knowing there's nothing,
not even revenge, which alleviates
a life like yours. I offer it as one
might offer his father's ashes
to the wind, a gesture
when there's nothing else to do.
Still, I must say to you:
I hate your good reasons.
I hate the hatefulness that makes you fall
in love with death, your own included.
Perhaps you're hating me now,
I who own my own house
and live in a country so muscular,
so smug, it thinks its terror is meant
only to mean well, and to protect.
Christ turned his singular cheek,
one man's holiness, another's absurdity.
Like you, the rest of us obey the sting,
the surge. I'm just speaking out loud
to cancel my silence. Consider it an old impulse,
doomed to become mere words.
The first poet probably spoke to thunder
and, for a while, believed
thunder had an ear and a choice.