Ka-Ching and the Constitution

Trump’s pardons, Musk’s exit, ICE’s courtroom traps, and the federal ruling that brought his tariffs crashing down, plus the 19-year-old innovator we misnamed.

Before we dive into the swirling sewage of corruption, self-dealing, and authoritarian absurdity bubbling out of Washington this week, let’s start with a correction, because truth still matters here, even when it’s inconvenient.

Yesterday, we misidentified the young science phenom whose work is helping to change the world. The correct name is Adam Kovalčík, a 19-year-old from Dulovce, Slovakia, and the winner of the $100,000 George D. Yancopoulos Innovator Award at the 2025 Regeneron International Science and Engineering Fair. Kovalčík developed a method to cut antiviral drug production time nearly in half and reduce costs by over 80%, a breakthrough with profound implications for global healthcare. He deserves our admiration, and most importantly, to be named correctly.

Let’s begin with a small, quiet moment of clarity in the fog of Trumpism. In Manhattan, federal Judge Vargas extended a preliminary injunction against DOGE operatives, those ideological appointees elbowing their way into sensitive Treasury systems without so much as a background check or basic training. Vargas was blunt: you want access to the government’s financial arteries, you need to prove you’re not a clot. DOGE, unsurprisingly, failed that test. One more unqualified loyalist was conditionally allowed in, but the broader injunction remains. The court, in essence, told Trump: no, you may not staff the Treasury with TikTok crypto bros in flag pins. Not without consequences.

That spirit of judicial resistance also echoed from the U.S. Court of International Trade, where a three-judge panel issued a rare but resounding ruling: Trump’s sweeping tariffs on imported goods are illegal. The court found that he exceeded his constitutional authority by invoking emergency powers under the 1977 IEEPA statute to wage an economic war that Congress never authorized. It ordered the tariffs vacated, triggering a ten-day window for Trump to comply. Trump, of course, plans to appeal. But for now, the law and the Constitution has spoken: trade policy is not a king’s decree.

The case was brought by a coalition of twelve states, led by Oregon Attorney General Dan Rayfield, who called the tariffs “unlawful, reckless, and economically devastating.” The court’s ruling, Rayfield said, is “a victory not just for Oregon, but for working families, small businesses, and everyday Americans.” Trump’s tariff regime didn’t just bloat prices and provoke retaliation, it bulldozed certainty itself, leaving small firms struggling to plan, budget, or grow. The lawsuit filed by the Liberty Justice Center on behalf of five of those small businesses painted a bleak picture: fishing gear distributors near Lake Erie, electronics educators in Virginia, women's cycling companies, and pipe manufacturers straddling the U.S.-Canada border, all paralyzed by Trump's erratic declarations and punitive levies.

David Levi, who runs MicroKits out of a Charlottesville workshop teaching kids how to build gadgets, called the tariffs a “death sentence.” His business was left at the mercy of ever-changing import costs and a White House allergic to transparency. “I can’t plan. I can’t budget. I can’t grow,” he said. Other plaintiffs echoed that same economic vertigo: VOS Selections warned its wine imports were “unraveling a generation of work.” Genova Pipe saw its export markets threatened. And Terry Precision Cycling, founded to serve women riders, called Trump’s tariff regime “the single greatest threat” they’ve ever faced.

The court made clear: no president may unilaterally rewrite the rules of global commerce.

Meanwhile, in immigration courtrooms across America, Trump’s ICE agents have begun executing what attorney Katie Phang calls the “dupe and scoop” strategy. Immigrants are being lured into mandatory hearings, only to have their cases dismissed, and then immediately arrested outside the courtroom. These are not fugitives, they are people who followed the law, appeared as required, and were rewarded with shackles and expedited deportation. It’s textbook entrapment. But under Trump’s new doctrine of procedural sadism, cruelty is not the byproduct it’s the point. Due process, Trump says, is too slow. Justice, too expensive. One million deportations a year requires shortcuts. The Constitution, in this calculus, is just another obstacle to bulldoze.

Speaking of bulldozers, Elon Musk is out at DOGE, but not before salting the Earth behind him. His departure comes after a devastating purge of federal scientists, especially at NIOSH, where groundbreaking mine safety tools were completed just hours before mass firings swept the agency. Entire offices researching lithium battery fires and firefighter protection were shuttered. Staff were banned from presenting at conferences. Credit cards were slashed to a one-dollar limit because apparently nothing says efficiency like denying researchers pens.

Critics like Philip Low, a former Musk ally and neuroscientist, have begun publicly ringing the alarm. In a viral essay (later allegedly suppressed by Facebook and LinkedIn), Low called Musk a narcissist with a dangerous lust for power, an emperor with chainsaw cosplay and a disdain for both science and law. Low has now pledged $250 million to legally test the “free speech” claims of platforms like X and Meta, accusing them of algorithmically muting criticism while amplifying far-right authoritarianism. And Musk, fresh off dismantling a safety agency, is now preparing to launch Tesla’s robotaxi fleet in Austin, using underpowered cameras, glitchy software, and remote operators in place of industry-standard LIDAR. Critics warn the system isn’t ready. But the launch is set for June, because Musk says it is and the science, like the traffic, can get out of his way.

If that weren’t enough to fill the news cycle, Trump’s pardon machine roared back to life this week, issuing 26 new acts of clemency that read like a deleted scene from The Purge: Executive Branch Edition. Among the recipients: former Rep. Michael Grimm, convicted of tax fraud; former Connecticut Gov. John Rowland, a two-time federal convict; rapper NBA YoungBoy, jailed for firearms violations; and reality TV stars Todd and Julie Chrisley, who defrauded banks out of $30 million. Also on the list: James Callahan, a corrupt union boss; Imaad Zuberi, a foreign agent and mega-donor convicted of influence peddling; and yes, Larry Hoover, the former gang leader and convicted murderer long held as a symbol of the criminal justice system’s inflexibility. Kanye West, never far from Trumpworld absurdity, praised the move in all caps: “WORDS CAN’T EXPRESS MY GRATITUDE FOR OUR DEVOTED ENDURING PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP FOR FREEING LARRY HOOVER.”

No pardons were issued for whistleblowers, asylum seekers, or civil servants caught up in DOGE’s purges. But if you hosted a reality show, ran a political scam, or laundered a few million through a memecoin, Trump might just put you on the guest list for his next Mar-a-Lago fundraiser. The price? Only $5 million a head, or $1 million apiece for a table of 20.

And if you're wondering how this grift scales globally, look no further than World Liberty Financial, the Trump-linked crypto scheme that now boasts a $2 billion stablecoin infusion from a UAE-backed firm. That money, under current rules, can now be invested by the Trump Organization, with profits pocketed and losses absorbed elsewhere. Another investor, Chinese national Justin Sun, put $75 million into Trump’s WLFI coin and then saw his federal charges quietly paused. A few weeks later, a Trump-backed meme coin that had collapsed in value suddenly offered its top holders a private dinner and White House tour. Trading surged. $900,000 in profits were made. The grift, as always, is the policy.

But every now and then, amid the collapse, the contempt, and the chainsaws, someone like Judge Vargas still stands up and says: not yet. Not like this.