Common Sense and Sovereignty

By Yours Truly, a Traveler of Truth and Occasional User of Government Cheese

Now, I’ve seen some tall tales in my day, but that spun about Kilmar Abrego Garcia—deemed innocent by folks sipping coffee in Washington and a terrorist by those who’ve had the misfortune of housing him in El Salvador—takes the ribbon at the County Fair. The whole affair would be laughable if it weren’t so wrapped up in the nervous knots of modern-day politics, with the media howling at the moon and the courts drawing maps in the sand where logic once stood.

Garcia was plucked from Maryland and deposited in a Salvadoran prison, where he’s now settled into a less-than-voluntary retirement. The Supreme Court recently declared that the U.S. government ought to “facilitate” his return—as if we’re talking about shipping a crate of peaches, not someone described by the Salvadoran president as a terrorist.

President Bukele, whose own country is finally clawing its way out from under the thumb of gang warfare, looked at the camera like it had grown two heads and said, “Of course I’m not going to do it.”

That’s the kind of plain talk that makes friends or enemies–but never politicians or press types.

In what I consider an admirable act of restraint, President Trump didn’t roll his eyes—at least not in front of the press—but made it clear the whole mess wasn’t his making.

“That’s up to El Salvador,” he said, with the kind of shrug a man gives when someone asks why the rooster crows at dawn.

And he’s right, mind you. If President Bukele doesn’t want to send the man back, should we sail a clipper ship down to San Salvador and storm the gates?

The press, particularly one ornery soul from CNN, pressed the matter like a butter churn, and Trump, in fine form, asked the obvious, “Why don’t you just say, ‘Isn’t it wonderful that we’re keeping criminals out of our country?’”

I’d wager even the birds outside the Oval Office gave a nod.

Now enter the ACLU, stage left, like a traveling show with too many props and no plot. They’ve filed more lawsuits than a porcupine’s got quills, arguing that twenty-four hours is not enough warning for a man to stop his deportation, especially when he’s facing a lifetime in a foreign prison.

Never mind that the very same Supreme Court they once pinned their hopes just handed them a unanimous decision–if you want to argue about deportation, do it where you’re in El Salvador. That’s what I call jurisdiction, and even Marshal Dillon could’ve told you that.

At the center of this dust storm is an old law—the Alien Enemies Act of 1798—which the Trump Administration has dusted off like an antique rifle, claiming it fits the times just fine. With gangs like Tren de Aragua treating our southern border like an open buffet, Trump figures this is as close to an “invasion” as we’ve seen without bayonets on the beach.

Some say he’s stretching the law, but I say the stretch makes it last.

The Colorado challenge is on behalf of two fellas detained in Denver. One says he’s mistaken for a gang member; the other claims the gang killed his kin. It’s a grim business either way, and I’ll not make light of it—but I will say that the line between fleeing from terror and bringing it along in your suitcase can be mighty thin, and a country’s first duty is to know the difference.

So here we are, with the courts saying “facilitate,” the media saying “outrage,” and Trump saying, “Not on my watch.” Meanwhile, President Bukele’s saying he’ll not smuggle anyone back across our border. At least he knows which side of the fence he’s standing on.

The truth is the Trump administration is not breaking the law—they’re upholding the idea that citizenship, borders, and laws still mean something in a world too quick to forget they exist. So, if there’s a villain in this story, it’s not the man in the Oval Office.

It’s the fog of folly settling over reason–every time politics and media try to do the work of common sense.