By Dino Alonso
In the spring of 2025, the Trump administration’s defiance of judicial authority escalated into a far more dangerous situation: a direct confrontation with the Constitution.
The case of Kilmar Abrego García—a Maryland resident deported to El Salvador despite a 2019 federal court order protecting him—epitomizes this crisis. Even after the Supreme Court ruled that the U.S. government must assist in his return, the administration responded with what can only be described as a shrug. They argued they had no obligation to retrieve him from a Salvadoran prison. They said: The Court may rule—but we will decide.
This is not an isolated defiance. It is a pattern. From ignoring judicial orders on the deportation of Venezuelan migrants under the Alien Enemies Act to retaliating against law firms representing immigrants, critics, and dissidents, the administration has made its position clear: Checks and balances are conditional. And the condition is power.
James Baldwin once wrote:
“Ignorance, allied with power, is the most ferocious enemy justice can have.”
What we’re witnessing now is precisely that alliance—not ignorance of law but disregard for it, not confusion but contempt.
By treating court orders as optional and punishing those who seek legal redress, this administration undermines the judiciary not just as an institution but as an idea. When law becomes discretionary, democracy becomes theater. And the people? They become spectators in a government that no longer answers to them.
Hannah Arendt warned of this erosion. She saw how authoritarian regimes begin not with tanks in the streets but with the slow subordination of courts to political whim. Where law once governed rulers, rulers begin to govern the law. That slide has begun, and the slope is steep.
The case of Kilmar Abrego García is not just a personal tragedy. It is a litmus test for the American experiment. Can the executive branch ignore a Supreme Court ruling without consequence? And if so, what remains of judicial power? What remains of the separation of powers? What remains of the republic?
If this precedent holds, no legal safeguard is safe—not your protection against unlawful search, your right to vote, your access to counsel, or due process. When one branch declares itself supreme, the rest exist only by permission.
This moment calls for more than legal analysis. It demands moral clarity. It requires civic resistance.
Because if the people accept a government that cherry-picks the law, they must be prepared for a government that rewrites it—to protect itself, not them.
And let’s be honest: If a Supreme Court ruling can be ignored, what hope does an ordinary citizen have? What hope does Kilmar Abrego García have? What hope do we have?
This is not just about immigration. This is about whether the law means anything at all.
Let this moment be a line in the sand. The courts must be upheld. The law must be honored. And the people must refuse to forget.
“The law is not a tool for the powerful.
It is the only shield the powerless have.”
Silence now is permission.
And we cannot afford to give it.