federal-courts

  • |

    The Government Now Needs a Reference Check

    ByHugh Jass

    I have spent years exhuming documents, and the Justice Department has now submitted one that appears to be a résumé with the references section torn off. The department wants judges to presume that government officials acted properly—a legal shortcut known as the presumption of regularity—while judges increasingly seem to be asking whether anyone checked the paperwork before it left the building.

    ProPublica’s review of hundreds of cases found more than 40 in which judges explicitly questioned that presumption. The review described court records involving inaccurate dates, ignored facts, nonexistent case law, disputed subpoenas, and alleged violations of court orders. That is not every filing, every lawyer, or every employee. It is, however, a pattern substantial enough to make the institutional honor system cough into its sleeve.

    The contradiction is beautifully bureaucratic: the government asks for automatic credibility at the same moment its work is being treated as something requiring adult supervision. A private citizen who supplied the wrong date, cited a case that does not exist, and ignored relevant facts would not receive a solemn judicial presumption that everything was probably fine. They would receive a follow-up email with the emotional temperature of a locked records room.

    Instead, the department’s position can sound like this: “Please assume our officials followed the rules unless you discover evidence suggesting otherwise.” The courts’ emerging response is less ceremonial: “We have discovered some evidence suggesting otherwise.” Every new filing arrives wearing a tie and carrying a folder marked OFFICIAL, while the judge reaches for a highlighter, a calendar, and possibly a second opinion from the laws of arithmetic.

    Public power cannot operate on permanent reference-free trust. Judges are supposed to examine claims, and citizens should expect the same basic discipline from institutions acting in their name. The ProPublica reporting does not establish that every DOJ filing is unreliable; it establishes why credibility cannot be treated as government-issued stationery. At this point, each filing should include the line: “References available upon request.” The court, naturally, has already requested them.

  • |

    The EEOC Put Civil-Rights Cases in Suspended Animation

    ByHugh Jass

    The filing blinked first. According to an Associated Press report, Louisiana prison workers are suing over what they describe as an indefinite suspension of their case at the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. The complaint has not been clearly rejected; it has been placed in the administrative waiting room, where the chairs are bolted down and the clock is apparently the only employee still reporting for duty.

    That is the peculiar power of institutional delay: it can preserve a right in theory while making the remedy less usable in practice. The workers’ claims remain legally alive, according to the reported dispute, but there is no dependable timetable for the next meaningful step. A case can survive in a database while the people behind it keep aging, changing jobs, paying bills, and discovering that “pending” is not a form of assistance.

    The reported lawsuit also carries a bureaucratic contradiction. The workers may have a route to federal court, but leaving the EEOC process could require rebuilding the case and establishing class status again. The AP report described that procedural restart as potentially costing years of work. Not every case would automatically begin from zero, but the possibility is enough to make the exit resemble a fire door that opens into another courthouse basement.

    Here is where the paperwork develops a pulse. An agency does not have to announce “no” to make relief harder to reach. It can issue a suspension, preserve the language of process, and let uncertainty perform the exhausting labor. Nobody has to slam the door; the hallway simply becomes so long that ordinary people are expected to bring sandwiches and a retirement plan.

    The public-interest question is not whether every claim should win. It is whether a civil-rights system can call itself available when its calendar disappears. The case is not dead. It is trapped in a filing cabinet where time has been deputized as opposing counsel, and the document has been left to cough politely until someone remembers that rights are supposed to reach living people.

  • |

    DOJ’s “Rule of Law” Stretch Goal (Please Submit Proof in Writing)

    ByMike Rotch

    I love the “rule of law” crowd. I also love when grown-ups claim they’re being careful and then treat paperwork like it’s optional seasoning. DOJ, via Acting AG Todd Blanche, has been selling a plan/fund that won’t move forward “as stated” like it’s a mature compliance move.

    But a federal judge’s record says the underlying IRS settlement process was improper enough to trigger penalties for attorneys. And when the government’s “trust us” needs to be translated into something boring and enforceable—like a pledge actually in writing—reporting says Blanche wouldn’t commit the promise on paper when asked.

    So here’s my kitchen-table rule: if it’s really off the table “as stated,” then sign the statement that proves it. Otherwise you don’t have rule of law—you have improv with a tie, where the only receipts are vibes.

    The consequence isn’t just legal theater. It’s the public being asked to accept “following the court” as a brand promise, while the court, the record, and the lawmakers all keep demanding the one thing government spokespeople can’t seem to stand—documentation. Paper matters. And apparently, so does dodging it.

  • |

    Debts Don’t Die, They File

    ByHugh Jass

    The contradiction is always the same: when the Supreme Court says “no,” people start scolding the attempt like it was a checkout line that “didn’t go through.” Student debt cancellations get framed as a good-faith sprint—Biden tried, the Court said no, and then we’re supposed to be surprised that the stamp labeled Biden v. Nebraska (2023) controls what happens next.

    But causality is not vibes; it’s the operating mechanism. When the decision is the thing that stops the program, that’s where the blame goes—on the decision that said “no,” not on the part where someone walked up to the door with the button. Blame the decision, not the attempt.

  • |

    Lex Luthor Government: The Lawsuit That Billed Us

    ByMike Rotch

    In “Lex Luthor government,” accountability comes in armor-plated paperwork: Step 1 sue the taxpayers for $10 billion. Step 2 “settle” with your own DOJ. Step 3 create a $1.776 billion “weaponization” fund. Step 4 let allies line up for payouts. Step 5 block IRS audits of your family’s past returns. Step 6 call it justice. Trump gets a formal apology, a past-IRS-audit shield, and the political payout machine—while taxpayers get “the bill,” higher costs, weaker democracy, and zero accountability.

    He didn’t drain the swamp. He filed paperwork to own it—he sued the country, settled with himself, and sent the invoice to us.

End of content

End of content