On November 3, the U.S. Supreme Court will hear oral arguments in a case that asks whether Colorado has unlawfully discriminated against a religious preschool because the school is barred from participating in the state's universal preschool program due to its refusal to accept LGBTQ families. In addition to involving multiple hot-button political and cultural issues, the case also has big implications for the future of federal antidiscrimination law.

St. Mary Catholic Parish v. Roy is not about a state law that directly prohibits a religious preschool from operating. Rather, at issue here is a government requirement that any preschool that wants to participate in the state's universal preschool program, and receive the public benefits that follow, must first satisfy various criteria, including that "each preschool provider provide eligible children an equal opportunity to enroll and receive preschool services regardless of race, ethnicity, religious affiliation, sexual orientation, gender identity, lack of housing, income level, or disability."

According to the Catholic preschools overseen by the Archdiocese of Denver, however, complying with that rule would force the schools to violate their religious beliefs. "It is undisputed that these preschools would otherwise be eligible [universal preschool] providers," the schools told the Supreme Court. "They are excluded solely because of their religious exercise—namely, their religious practices of ensuring that all enrolling families are supportive of the Catholic Church's teachings on sex and marriage and of treating enrolled four-year-olds in accordance with their biological sex."

These schools can point to a pair of recent Supreme Court precedents that will very likely count in their favor. In Espinoza v. Montana Department of Revenue (2020), the Court held that if a state provides educational subsidies that help parents send their children to private schools, the state "cannot disqualify some private schools solely because they are religious." Then, in Carson v. Makin (2022), the Court held that Maine's tuition assistance program violated the Constitution by excluding private schools that offered "sectarian" education. "A State's antiestablishment interest," the decision said, "does not justify enactments that exclude some members of the community from an otherwise generally available public benefit because of their religious exercise."

I would expect the outcome of St. Mary Catholic Parish v. Roy to follow in this same general pattern and hold something to the effect that when a state provides an educational public benefit, it must make some sort of accommodation for the religious views of the recipients.

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In Other Legal News

Justice Elena Kagan made news a few months back when she defended her conservative colleagues on the Supreme Court from the oft-heard charge that they are totally in the tank for President Donald Trump. "I don't see this as a court that is just like, 'We're just going to rubber stamp what the current administration does.' You know, quite the opposite," Kagan said. "I think that that is a bad rap." In support of her argument, Kagan pointed to the fact that the Supreme Court had recently ruled against Trump on the two big issues that Trump himself valued the most: tariffs and birthright citizenship.

Kagan was in the news again on Tuesday, this time because she publicly blasted those same conservative colleagues for issuing decisions on voting rights and political gerrymandering that, in Kagan's words, have produced "a democracy that does not work as well as it should." According to Kagan, the Court's conservative majority "has kind of blinded itself to the very deleterious effects of their rulings on how the political system works."

Does this mean that Kagan has now stopped defending the conservative justices from the pro-Trump charge? Not at all. In fact, as The New York Times put it, "she reiterated her defense of the conservative-dominated bench from a July appearance and said it was a 'bum rap' to suggest the court had been too deferential to Mr. Trump."

I don't know about you, but I find Kagan to be a refreshing public figure in these simplistic, partisan times. She is a staunch legal liberal with clearly stated objections to what the Supreme Court's conservative majority is getting up to, yet she refuses to be associated with the laziest progressive attacks on the Court. How many people of comparable public stature these days are willing to call out the shortcomings of their own side?

The post A Religious Preschool Is Barred From a State's Universal Preschool Program. SCOTUS Will Decide What's Legal. appeared first on Reason Magazine.

I read and much enjoyed—and highly recommend—my Stanford colleague Diego Zambrano's book, How Americans Enforce the Law. He was kind enough to write up for us this post that captures the core of his argument, and I'm delighted to pass it along (though I encourage people to read the whole book):

The headlines are full of stories about a federal government retreating from enforcement. Agencies are dropping investigations, abandoning regulations, shrinking staffs and changing enforcement priorities. One week, the EEOC drops discrimination cases. The next week, the SEC and CFPB wind down investigations into securities fraud and wrongdoing affecting consumers. Critics fear that the Department of Justice's antitrust division will overlook mergers when it is convenient for the administration. And the DOJ has abruptly reduced enforcement of the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act. Facing these changes, Americans might worry that a wide range of laws will go unenforced.

But that concern misses something unique about the American system of government. We have never relied only on bureaucrats to enforce our laws.

All the way back to the colonial period, American legislators have repeatedly done something unusual: they have given ordinary people the right to sue alongside government officials. In almost every regulatory area that most Americans care about—be it regulation of wages and hours, environmental pollution, consumer protection, or securities fraud—statutes allow both government officials and private parties to file suit to enforce the law. All of this happens through little-known provisions called "private rights of action," which is just a technical name for a right to sue. Thousands of these provisions build a second enforcement system alongside the bureaucracy, turning employees, consumers, competitors and their lawyers into co-enforcers of public law.

This system of private enforcement of the law is highly unusual. In much of the rest of the world, whenever a government faces a regulatory problem, it typically empowers government officials and bureaucrats to police legal violations. In France, Germany, Japan, and even the UK, legislators are far less likely to let anyone sue over, say, environmental pollution or employment discrimination.

Consider the case of oil spills. In 1989, the United States faced the Exxon Valdez oil spill off the pristine waters of Alaska.  Millions of gallons of oil laid waste to coasts, waters, and fisheries for hundreds of miles. What most Americans don't know is that a decade later, France also faced a catastrophic oil spill, caused by a ship called the Erika. So how did governments react? In the United States, private plaintiffs sued Exxon directly under existing tort and maritime law, eventually winning substantial damages. Congress, meanwhile, enacted a statute called the Oil Pollution Act with a new right-to-sue those responsible for oil spills. By contrast, in France, the oil spill led primarily to a major criminal prosecution and, eventually, to new national and European regulatory measures (including a new bureaucracy called the European Maritime Safety Agency). When France finally adopted a right to sue in 2016, it paled in comparison to the American version.

Why is the United States so different? Part of the answer, as I argue in a new book, is that Americans have always done this. Back in the colonial period, state legislatures adopted what they called "penal statutes," that empowered any person to enforce regulatory statutes and collect a bounty. So when Massachusetts wanted to regulate the storage of gunpowder, it allowed private informers to sue neighbors who stored it improperly. And this model applied across many areas of colonial life: alcohol consumption, trade, taxation, public morals, church attendance, and more. The Founders used the same tool across the board: Thomas Jefferson and James Madison co-wrote Virginia statutes full of penal statutes, and John Adams handled these suits routinely as a colonial lawyer.

The key feature of this system is that even though private parties file suit for their own aims—the employee wants their full wages paid or the consumer wants a refund for a shoddy product—they inevitably enforce the law. And those lawsuits benefit everyone else because employers and manufacturers may change their behavior with respect to other employees and consumers. In that sense, every single plaintiff is a little bureaucrat or, as some courts call them, a "private attorney general."

This system has the added benefit of reducing political disruptions in enforcement. Even though any single administration can change the enforcement priorities of the EEOC, SEC, CFPB, or Department of Justice, the president cannot control thousands of lawyers and their clients. Private enforcement, then, makes enforcement less dependent on what the bureaucracy and president want.

Right. So you might think that when the bureaucracy won't pursue wrongdoing, the obvious solution should always be new rights to sue. Indeed, many news stories decrying a lack of government enforcement immediately call for more private lawsuits.

But there's a problem with that solution. Private enforcement is not tailor-made for every regulatory area. It makes the most sense to empower private parties when the bureaucracy is truly faulty, under-resourced, politically vulnerable, or likely to be captured by regulated entities. When this isn't the case, private enforcement can cause more problems than it solves.

Consider, then, the enormous problems that rights to sue pose in the environmental context and in the construction of housing and infrastructure. There, broad rights to challenge government approvals can let private parties oppose the construction of housing, mass transit, green energy, and other projects. Examples of ruinous lawsuits abound. Neighbors in a Maryland suburb—backed for years by a nearby country club—sued to delay the Purple Line light-rail project over concerns for a microscopic organism, while the Sierra Club sued to stop a major Mojave solar energy project over the potential impact to a desert turtle. So even if a city government has approved a project that might benefit thousands of people, a single crank can use a right-to-sue to stop the project. In these settings, rights to sue have contributed to delays and increased costs of housing and infrastructure.

We need a careful approach to rights to sue. Yes, we need more of them in some areas. Especially if the government won't enforce anti-corruption or consumer protection statutes. And yes, in employment law, securities, and antitrust, private enforcement often makes a lot of sense. But this is not necessarily the case in environmental law and construction. There, we need better bureaucracies, not thousands of people with the ability to oppose construction projects for any number of reasons.

When the bureaucracy retreats, Americans should rest assured that private parties will still enforce the law. But that power to enforce the law should be given carefully.

The post "The Three Words That Explain American Government: 'Right to Sue,'" by Stanford Law Prof. Diego Zambrano appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Bringing Order to Anarchy: Governing the World to Come, by Charles Kupchan, Yale University Press, 328 pages, $32.50

In popular rendering, international politics since 1945 has been shaped by the so-called "liberal order." Led by the United States, a bundle of international institutions, rules, and norms intended to limit interstate competition and facilitate cooperation were widely embraced, contributing (per this narrative) to a peaceful and prosperous world. Today, that system seems to be breaking down, leaving policymakers, pundits, and scholars grappling with what a future order should entail and how this system should be orchestrated.

Rivers of ink have already flowed in service of this foundational question. To the mix we can now add Charles Kupchan's Bringing Order to Anarchy. Kupchan, a professor of government at Georgetown University and a senior fellow with the Council on Foreign Relations, is interested in both how the present crisis of order arrived and what should be done about it—as he puts it, "How did we get here?" and "What do we do now?" In his telling, we arrived at this moment because of the diffusion of power abroad, combined with shifts in domestic priorities among key members of the post-1945 order (especially the United States). The post-1945 order, he concludes, is thus irredeemably broken.

Going forward in what he sees as an increasingly multipolar world, Kupchan advocates a "global system of concerts" modeled on the Concert of Europe—the international order established after the Napoleonic wars. His proposed system would prioritize relations among the great powers, creating "informal and flexible steering groups" that would emphasize "building consensus, establishing lateral lines of authority across power centers, and providing top down governance." In practice, influence and authority would devolve to different regions, within which local great powers would play leading roles in shaping regional affairs. Meanwhile, the great powers would meet as part of a global concert, sitting atop regional orders as a kind of deconfliction and organizing body.

The most welcome contribution here is Kupchan's call to accept the end of the post-1945 order and to work within the constraints of a new distribution of power. For all that policymakers and analysts recognize that change is needed, the debate over the future of international order tends to focus on preserving whatever elements of the existing order we can. It also tends to attribute the need for change to shifts in U.S. domestic politics. Kupchan, on the other hand, helpfully reminds us that order depends first and foremost on the distribution of power. States, after all, are the building blocks of any international system, just as relative power affects both what they want and their options for pursuing their interests. The creation and maintenance of an order therefore hinges on whether it broadly reflects the distribution of power, allowing states to get some of what they want, through means most can accept.

It follows that pronounced shifts in the distribution of power require adjustments in the larger system. The greater the shift, the greater the change. And since the power shift underway today is foundational—with China emerging as a peer competitor to the United States, American power in relative decline, and power diffusing away from the West (broadly conceived)—it would be extremely foolhardy to try to preserve an order created at a very different historical moment. With a new distribution of power, Kupchan recognizes, a new system is required. Hard stop.

Still, Kupchan's call for creating a concert to replace the extant order is not entirely convincing. Two problems stand out.

First, the very same power shifts that require change to the current system leave the efficacy of the concert approach open to question. If great powers are to play the leading role in a concert system, it matters both which states constitute the great powers and how their relative power compares to one another. But amid a power shift, these are the very issues that are likely to be intensely contested, if not fundamentally uncertain. It's inauspicious for the envisioned concert, for instance, that scholars of international politics cannot agree whether the world today is unipolar, multipolar, bipolar, or something else altogether. Absent some baseline understanding of the distribution of power, it is difficult to see how a concert would form, gain buy-in, and operate successfully. 

Kupchan's invocation of the Concert of Europe itself alludes to the problem. It is no accident that the Concert formed only after 25 years of warfare clarified the European distribution of power, and waned as power shifted (due heavily to the emergence of Germany). Nevertheless, Kupchan doesn't seriously engage with this core requirement for a concert model when he makes the case for a concert today. The result is a tension between the book's underlying logic and its top-line policy prescription.

Second, and relatedly, it is not completely clear what the concert's remit would actually entail. On one hand, Kupchan argues that the "Global Concert would be a consultative body, not a decision-making one"; it would "tee up decisions that could be taken and implemented" by other ordering bodies. Yet Kupchan also notes that a key virtue of concerts writ large is their ability to "lower the bar to reaching and abiding by agreements"; similarly, he calls for concert diplomacy that would set up "bespoke steering groups to tackle specific challenges," particularly in security affairs. This suggests something grander than a consultative body. "Reaching and abiding by agreements" and setting up ad hoc fora to tackle specific challenges are decisions. Indeed, even "teeing up" ideas and decisions that could be tackled by subordinate international institutions and structures is a kind of decision. 

One gets the sense that Kupchan is not totally comfortable with the implications of his own reasoning. If new great powers are emerging and are poised to dominate international politics, and if these states are to coordinate with one another in small group settings, it seems likely that the concert would be a decision-making body. Alternatively, if the concert is to truly function as a consultative body, it is unclear why new great powers eager to assert influence over the international agenda would sign up and give credence to this exercise.

Beyond the logic of the concert system itself, no review of Bringing Order to Anarchy would be complete without some reflection on the volume's discussion of U.S. politics. The book contains a lengthy list of proposed domestic changes, including calls to encourage civility, forge bipartisan consensus, put the U.S. fiscal house in order, and avoid ideological excesses at home. No doubt many readers would agree with these recommendations. Still, it is not really clear what these proposals do to advance Kupchan's core arguments. Rather than directly affecting the creation or operation of a concert order, the domestic challenges he wants to remedy act as constraints on U.S. power: They impede the translation of U.S. material capabilities into international influence. Accordingly, a concert system could operate even with a domestically dazed and confused United States—the U.S. would simply be a less effective participant. Changing the domestic status quo may be a good thing, but it is not central to the mission of explaining what a future international order entails. The book's domestic discussion ends up being an odd discursion.

Still, this is an important book. In calling for casting the former order aside, Kupchan brings needed clarity to a meandering discussion. By the same token, it is very useful to bring insights from the Concert of Europe into the policy conversation. Whatever gaps there might be in its ideas about the logic and operation of a concert system—or the relationship of domestic politics to a concert—the book raises a new set of options, and that in itself is a valuable contribution to the discussion.

The post After the International 'Liberal Order' appeared first on Reason Magazine.

The U.S. Supreme Court's 2026–2027 term just got a whole lot boozier. On Monday, the justices agreed to hear arguments later this year or next in the case of Department of Justice v. McNutt. At issue is whether the 1868 federal ban on distilling liquor at home is unconstitutional because it exceeds the lawful regulatory power of the federal government. If any modern Supreme Court case ever deserved its own drinking game, this one is it.

In April, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 5th Circuit found the federal ban on home distilling to be unconstitutional because Congress lacked the proper authority to issue such a ban in the first place. It was not a legitimate exercise of the congressional authority "To Lay and collect Taxes," the appellate court reasoned, because "the purpose of a tax is to raise revenue for the government;" yet this law "amount[s] to an anti-revenue provision" that only "prevents distilled spirits from coming into existence." And if it does not exist, of course, the government cannot tax it.

The 5th Circuit also denied that the federal ban on home distilling could be saved by the government's appeal to the Necessary and Proper Clause, which says that Congress has the authority "To make all Laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into Execution the foregoing Powers, and all other Powers vested by this Constitution in the Government of the United States, or in any Department or Officer thereof."

But the federal ban on home distilling cannot be "necessary" to the execution of the enumerated taxing power, the 5th Circuit argued, because the provisions of federal law at issue "tax nothing, and are distinct from the regulation of distilling alcoholic products that is permitted by federal tax law."

Nor did the 5th Circuit find the ban to be "proper." "By purporting to ban activity without a plain connection to the exercise of Congress's taxation power," it held, "Congress has essentially—and 'improperly'—invaded the reserved police and regulatory power of the states."

The Trump administration lost this case at the 5th Circuit and has now successfully urged the justices to hear its appeal. In its petition seeking review, the Trump administration faulted the 5th Circuit for its overeagerness to "second-guess" the "legislative judgment" of Congress. Instead, the Trump administration argued, the federal judiciary owes a great deal more deference to the federal government's regulatory priorities in a case like this. "A law is necessary and proper if it is 'convenient' or 'useful' for carrying an enumerated power into effect, and 'plainly adapted' to that legitimate end," the Justice Department's brief argued. "That is the case here."

This case may lead to an interesting divide among the Supreme Court's more conservative members. In United States v. Comstock (2010), a 7–2 Supreme Court embraced the Necessary and Proper Clause as sufficient constitutional grounding for the Adam Walsh Child Protection and Safety Act, which had empowered federal officials to order the indefinite civil commitment of "sexually dangerous" individuals who had already finished serving their prison sentences. Chief Justice John Roberts joined the majority opinion in that case, while Justice Samuel Alito voted in concurrence. In other words, they both endorsed a broad view of congressional power under the Necessary and Proper Clause. By contrast, Justice Clarence Thomas, joined by the late Justice Antonin Scalia, voted in dissent. The Comstock ruling, Thomas protested, "comes perilously close to transforming the Necessary and Proper Clause into a basis for the federal police power that 'we always have rejected.'"

Are we about to see a similar Alito-Thomas split over the proper reach of federal power in this case? And what about Justices Neil Gorsuch, Amy Coney Barrett, and Brett Kavanaugh? Will one or more of them play the Scalia part and similarly reject the Trump administration's broad reading of the Necessary and Proper Clause?

Stay tuned.

The post Trump Administration Urges SCOTUS To Uphold Federal Ban on Distilling Liquor at Home appeared first on Reason Magazine.

From a press release last month, just posted on Westlaw:

N.C. Detective Agency, a Durham-based security company, will pay $65,231 in compensatory damages and back pay, and take other corrective actions to voluntarily resolve a religious discrimination investigation by the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC), the federal agency announced today.

The EEOC's investigation found reasonable cause to believe that an employee requested to be excused from work due to a Muslim religious holiday, but the request was denied. The company was aware of the employee's need for a religious accommodation but did not engage in the legally required interactive process, and instead terminated her in June 2025 when she did not report for duty.

And from another press release two weeks later, also just posted on Westlaw:

Reynolds IGA Foodliner, Inc., owner and operator of a chain of grocery stores, will pay $65,000 and provide other equitable relief to settle a religious discrimination and retaliation lawsuit filed by the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC), the federal agency announced today.

According to the suit, shortly after she was hired as a deli clerk at the Piggly Wiggly store in Hazlehurst, Georgia, the employee requested Sundays off to observe her Sabbath. The employee's supervisor denied the request, claiming that, if the store gave the employee Sundays off, it would have to do the same for all other employees. The employee continued to request the accommodation, and the company fired her in January 2025.

More from the second press release:

"Employers cannot deny religious accommodation requests simply for fear of upsetting other employees," said Marcus G. Keegan, regional attorney for the EEOC's Atlanta District. "The EEOC remains committed to enforcing federal anti-discrimination law and protecting employees' rights to religious freedom."

Darrell E. Graham, director of the EEOC's Atlanta District, said, "Employers must thoughtfully consider each request for religious accommodation on an individual, case-by-case basis and otherwise make good-faith efforts to accommodate their employees' religious beliefs. Employers must be aware of their obligations under federal law to provide reasonable religious accommodations absent undue hardship."

Finally, from a third press release from last month (it was published in between the first two, but was again just posted on Westlaw); this one involves a lawsuit and not a settlement:

Blue Bell Creameries, Inc., a Brenham, Texas-based frozen snack manufacturer and distributor with a production facility in Sylacauga, Alabama, unlawfully terminated a Jewish body shop technician soon after he requested a beard‑related religious accommodation, the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) charged in a lawsuit announced today.

Even supporters of bans on religious discrimination by private employers might debate whether employers should be required to give religious exemptions from generally applicable rules (exemptions that could themselves be seen as discrimination in favor of religious observers). But Congress has indeed mandated such exemptions: Title VII of the Civil Rights Act, as amended in 1972, generally requires employers to accommodate religious objectors' requests for exemptions from generally applicable work rules, unless doing so would pose an "undue hardship" for the employer.

That extends to time off for religious holidays: Indeed, the leading recent case on the subject, Groff v. DeJoy, involved a Christian employee's request for an exemption from having to work Sundays. And of course it extends, as it must, to all religions.

 

The post $65K Settlements with EEOC Over Failure to Accommodate Muslim and Christian Employees' Religious Days Off appeared first on Reason Magazine.

According to The Washington Post, "The chairman of the Republican-led House Oversight Committee is investigating two D.C.-based activist groups over hosting what he called 'jury nullification training sessions,' claiming that their instructions given to potential jurors were an illegal attempt to subvert federal prosecutors."

The committee chair in question, Rep. James Comer (R–Ky.), has set his sights on the groups known as Free DC and Harriet's Wildest Dreams because they, in Comer's words, believe "that potential jurors should not make decisions impartially based on applying the law as instructed to the facts presented before them in the case, but based on their subjective, personal beliefs and activist agendas."

I hate to break it to Comer, but many prominent members of America's Founding generation would have agreed with those D.C. activists.

The debate over jury nullification asks whether there is a proper place in our legal system for a jury to acquit, not because of any lack of evidence of a defendant's guilt, but because the jury believes the underlying law that was supposedly broken, or the prosecutor's particular enforcement of that law, to be unconstitutional.

In 1791, the influential Founding Father James Wilson, who was a signer of both the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution, delivered a widely discussed lecture on law at the College of Philadelphia. "Whoever would be obliged to obey a constitutional law, is justified in refusing to obey an unconstitutional act of the legislature," Wilson said. "When a question, even of this delicate nature, occurs, every one who is called to act, has a right to judge." Needless to say, jurors are among those "called to act" in this very manner. Jurors therefore have their own "right to judge" the constitutionality of the law (and prosecution) before them.

Thomas Jefferson made a similar point in a 1789 letter to Thomas Paine. "The trial by jury," Jefferson wrote, is "the only anchor ever yet imagined by man, by which a government can be held to the principles of its constitution." How else may a jury hold the government accountable to the principles of the Constitution than by judging for itself the constitutionality of the government's actions, including the actions of the police and prosecution?

According to Comer, the job of a juror is mechanically "applying the law as instructed to the facts presented before them in the case."

But that's not what Founding Fathers such as Wilson and Jefferson thought. They argued that the job of the juror was to apply the text of the Constitution to the actions of the government and to acquit the defendant if either the law or its enforcement came up short. As Alexis de Tocqueville put it in his great book, Democracy in America, the jury "places the real direction of society in the hands of the governed, or a portion of the governed, and not in that of the government."

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In Other Legal News

The U.S. Supreme Court heard oral arguments this week in two cases that are worth keeping track of.

• On Tuesday, the justices weighed the matter of Beaird v. United States, which asks how much judicial deference is owed to the U.S. Sentencing Commission's commentary on the federal sentencing guidelines when a judge is applying those guidelines during a federal criminal defendant's sentencing. You can read this newsletter's past coverage of that case here.
• On Wednesday, the justices took on the matter of Salazar v. Paramount Global, which asks whether the website 247Sports violated the Video Privacy Protection Act of 1988 when it shared a user's private information, including what videos he watched, with Facebook. Past Injustice System coverage of that case is available here.

The post Jury Nullification Is Not a Crime appeared first on Reason Magazine.

When a president starts with a predetermined policy and then goes looking for a statutory pretext to justify it, he is building on shaky ground. President Donald Trump illustrated that point once again in July, when he announced a third round of broad tariffs after his first two attempts ran into legal trouble.

Shortly after taking office in 2025, Trump claimed to have discovered a previously unnoticed delegation of extensive tariff authority in the International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA), a 1977 law that does not mention import taxes and had never been used to impose them. That claim was rejected by every court that considered it.

Last February, the Supreme Court ruled that IEEPA does not authorize tariffs at all. But Trump had a backup plan: Hours after that decision, he announced another sweeping set of tariffs, this time relying on Section 122 of the Trade Act of 1974.

That provision allows tariffs in response to "fundamental international payments problems" caused by "serious United States balance-of-payments deficits." In May, the U.S. Court of International Trade (CIT) ruled that the new tariffs were illegal because Trump had failed to "identify balance-of-payments deficits within the meaning of Section 122."

Although that decision was stayed pending appeal, Trump's Section 122 tariffs, which were subject to a 150-day statutory limit, expired on July 24. Trump then switched to Plan C, invoking Section 301 of the Trade Act, which authorizes tariffs in response to a foreign "act, policy, or practice" that is "unreasonable or discriminatory" and "burdens or restricts" U.S. commerce.

Trump's Section 301 tariffs supposedly targeted countries that had failed to "impose and effectively enforce a prohibition on the importation of goods produced with forced labor." The alleged offenders included 86 economies that accounted for nearly all U.S. imports.

In separate complaints, the Liberty Justice Center (LJC) and the law firm Akin Gump, which had played leading roles in challenging Trump's prior tariffs, immediately asked the CIT to block the new import taxes. By and large, they noted, the government had failed to explain how the targeted countries had fallen short, how their alleged failures burdened U.S. commerce, or why the new tariffs could be expected to ameliorate the problem they were supposed to address.

The LJC argued that the forced-labor issue was "simply a pretext" for reinstating Trump's "invalidated global tariff regime." It added that Trump's reading of Section 301, like his interpretation of IEEPA, would violate the "major questions" doctrine, which requires clear congressional authorization for policies of "vast economic and political significance."

This was Trump's "third attempt" to "impose essentially the same set of sweeping global tariffs," Akin Gump's lawyers wrote. "The third time's not the charm."

The post Trump Keeps Coming Up With Legally Dubious Tariff Justifications appeared first on Reason Magazine.

From Molchonova v. FirstBank Puerto Rico & First Bancorp, decided today by Judge Jed Rakoff (S.D.N.Y.):

On September 25, 2026, this Court issued a "bottom-line" Order granting in part and denying in part the motion of defendants FirstBank Puerto Rico and First Bancorp (collectively "FirstBank") to dismiss the complaint brought by plaintiff Julia Molchonova. This Opinion sets forth the reasons for that Order….

An excerpt of Molchonova's allegations (which are just allegations at this stage):

Molchonova, who was one of Epstein's victims, alleges that FirstBank participated in, and benefited from, Epstein's vast criminal enterprise in violation of federal and local law…. As alleged, FirstBank maintained dozens of accounts for Epstein, his entities, and his agents, facilitated millions of dollars in transfers to and from these accounts, and served as a banking reference for Epstein when he sought to charter his own banking entity. These services, among others, were "integral in helping [Epstein] fuel his international sex trafficking operation." …

The court allowed Molchonova's claim under the Trafficking Victims Protection Act ("on behalf of a putative class of Epstein victims") to go forward:

As this Court recently explained, the TVPA imposes civil liability on any "person or entity that knowingly benefits, or attempts or conspires to benefit, financially or by receiving anything of value from participation in a venture which that defendant knew or should have known has engaged in an act in violation of the TVPA." Participant liability "involves three elements: first, that the defendant participated in a commercial sex trafficking venture; second, that the defendant knew or should have known that the venture either involved the perpetrator's use of force, the threat of force, fraud, or coercion to cause the victims to participate in sex or that the venture involved sex with victims who were under the age of 18; and third, that the defendant benefited from its participation in the venture." …

[F]or her participation claim to survive, Molchonova must allege more than that FirstBank provide routine banking services to the Epstein venture. The Court concludes that she has done so. Molchonova has alleged an extensive, longstanding, and continuous relationship between FirstBank and Epstein. For more than two decades, FirstBank opened and maintained more than 30 accounts for Epstein and related entities. The Complaint alleges that these accounts were used to pay victims, and circulate millions of dollars in funds between various Epstein-related entities and individuals, FirstBank processed millions of dollars in payments from Epstein's personal accounts to the FirstBank accounts of entities held by Epstein and his known associates. Several of these entities owned the properties where much of Epstein's trafficking and sexual abuse transpired, while others made payments to victims of Epstein's abuse.

While such extensive activity was more than "routine," what is crucial is that Molchonova has alleged with specificity that FirstBank maintained this extensive and longstanding relationship with Epstein despite ever more extreme "red flags" that ultimately led every other bank to drop him as a client.

Between 2007 and 2015, HSBC, Goldman Sachs, Bank of America, Merrill Lynch, JP Morgan Chase, UBS, and CitiBank all terminated their relationships with Epstein. But FirstBank simply took advantage of these closures to enhance its profitable banking relationship with Epstein. For example, in 2018, "both Fidelity Investments and Deutsche Bank closed its [sic] accounts with Epstein and sent funds from those closures to FirstBank."

At best, these allegations demonstrate an astonishing ignorance to the apparent consensus of the financial services industry not to provide banking services to someone whose grotesque misconduct was becoming ever more obvious. At worst, drawing all inferences in Molchonova's favor, the complaint alleges that FirstBank provided continuous and substantial financial services to Epstein and his associates despite knowing that these services were being used to further Epstein's sex trafficking venture. See Bank of Am. (finding that facilitating wire transfers constituted participation for purposes of the TVPA because the defendant "had every reason to know that [the plaintiff] had no ability to earn legitimate income in the United States and that Epstein, who arranged the set-up of the account and was involved with the transfers, had already been convicted of sex crimes involving underage girls").

While any one of FirstBank's services to Epstein may be claimed to be "routine" (though in many instances even that is suspicious), together, the complaint alleges that FirstBank was deeply enmeshed in Epstein's misconduct for its own financial benefit….

Having concluded that Molchonova has alleged participation, the Court turns to the second element—whether Molchonova "adequately alleges that [FirstBank] either knew or should have known that Epstein's venture used force, the threat of force, fraud, coercion, or some combination of the same to cause its victims to submit to sex, or that the victims who submitted to sex were under the age of 18." The Court concludes that she has.

As an initial matter, knowledge, for purposes of the TVPA, requires only that the defendant "'should have known' in the usual sense of negligence." … Molchonova's complaint alleges that, throughout its twenty-plus-year relationship with Epstein, FirstBank ignored considerable, publicly available information about Epstein and his close associates. As this Court previously explained with respect to a different bank, "while [FirstBank] was not required to automatically credit" these sources of information about Epstein, "the amended complaint plausibly asserts that the bank turned a blind eye to these repeated, detailed allegations, some emanating from police reports widely circulated in the press, by utterly failing to engage in due diligence about them."

Molchonova also alleges that there was significant FirstBank account activity that itself should have raised red flags. For instance, in 2018—after years of media and law enforcement reports describing Epstein as a sexual abuser and sex trafficker—FirstBank opened a bank account for one of Epstein's victims using the same address in the U.S. Virgin Islands as Epstein and his other related accounts. Likewise, Molchonova alleges with sufficient specificity that Epstein and his agents owned a network of FirstBank accounts including accounts for entities and properties that were publicly linked to Epstein's abuse and trafficking venture that received millions of dollars in transfers from other of Epstein's accounts. And, as emphasized above, the complaint plausibly alleges that FirstBank should have been aware of the laundry list of other banks that cut ties with Epstein in the decade preceding his death in 2019….

The third element of a TVPA participation claim is that a defendant must have benefited from its participation in a sex trafficking venture. This element can be satisfied by "allegations that [FirstBank] knowingly received revenue from its participation in generally assisting a venture that it knew, or should have known, involved sex trafficking."…

Molchonova's allegations easily satisfy this standard. She alleges that "Epstein only offered his business to FirstBank because it was knowingly aiding Epstein's sex trafficking operation and the concealment thereof. FirstBank knew that if it stopped aiding the operation, it would lose the Epstein-related accounts and the financial benefits attached to handling those accounts." She also alleges that "FirstBank financially benefitted in the form of profits, high-net-worth clients, and other financial incentives, for its participation in the Epstein sex-trafficking venture." These allegations plainly state that FirstBank profited from its longstanding and continuous relationship with Epstein, and plausibly proffer that Epstein would not have continued banking with FirstBank if it did not turn a blind eye to his use of FirstBank's services to facilitate his sex trafficking venture….

For similar reasons, the court also allowed Molchonova's claims under the New York City Gender-Motivated Violence Protection Act to proceed. But the court dismissed her claims "that FirstBank obstructed enforcement of the TVPA in violation of 18 U.S.C. §§ 1591(d) and 1595":

As this Court has previously concluded in a substantially similar case, "[b]ecause Congress enacted Section 1591(d) in 2008 and did not give that provision retroactive effect, the investigations that resulted in Epstein's 2006 guilty plea and his 2007 non-prosecution agreement there cannot support plaintiffs' claim for obstruction." Accordingly, the relevant inquiry for purposes of Molchonova's obstruction claim is whether she has alleged that FirstBank knew of a post-2008 effort to enforce the TVPA and intentionally obstructed, or attempted to obstruct, that enforcement effort. The Court concludes she has not….

The post Lawsuit Alleging Bank Played Role in Facilitating "Jeffrey Epstein's … Sex-Trafficking Operation" Can Go Forward appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Imagine getting a bill from your local government for $900,000 because they see a greenhouse on your property and just assume you're growing marijuana without a permit.

Imagine government demanding $400,000 because you didn't know to fill out a single-page form.

Or you get slapped with a $100,000 fine for parking your car on your own property.

It sounds absurd, but as my newest video shows, that's really happening.

How can that be? Doesn't America's Constitution say government may not impose "excessive fines"?

It happens because some bureaucrats, savoring their power, act like tyrants.

At least now there is hope for a remedy. One of these excessive fine cases has reached the Supreme Court.

Ken Jouppi worked as a pilot in Alaska for 30 years, until one day, state troopers stopped his plane before takeoff.

"I didn't think we had anything to hide," he says. "They searched the airplane, opened up this lady's boxes of groceries and found beer."

Transporting beer. That was his crime.

"Isn't beer legal in America?" I ask Jouppi's lawyer, Mike Greenberg.

"In most places," he replies. But some towns in Alaska ban beer.

Jouppi was convicted of bootlegging.

Every pilot must know which town has what rule, and search everybody?

"They think pilots should search people's luggage," says Jouppi. "It was such a terrible thing to do to another individual, invade their privacy, and assault their dignity….I just didn't feel right about doing that."

Alaskan officials say the beer was visible, so Jouppi should have known about it. They jailed him for three days and seized his plane.

"That airplane was my primary source of income," says Jouppi. "Without it, I didn't have a business anymore."

I assumed such excessive punishment would be dismissed quickly by a court. But it wasn't.

"Jouppi has been fighting to keep his plane for 14 years," says Greenberg. "The plane is still sitting on a tarmac….It's a ludicrous situation where the state has every interest in going after valuable assets rather than actually fighting supposed harms of alcohol."

Greenberg's law firm, the Institute for Justice, took Jouppi's case, and now the U.S. Supreme Court will hear it.

I hope he wins. It's just wrong when governments destroy lives for small mistakes.

They're also doing that to Tuncay Saydam, a retired professor.

The IRS demands he pay $400,000 because he didn't know to fill out a one-page form about an old bank account in his native Turkey.

"The fines," says Saydam, "will destroy my life….We have never been rich."

His unpaid tax is less than $30,000. But the IRS demands he pay them more than $400,000. A California court upheld that penalty. Northern Californian Chief Magistrate Judge Donna Ryu wrote, "Government suffered a significant tax loss."

Finally, bureaucrats in Humboldt County, California, took aerial photos of people's property to search for unlicensed marijuana farms.

When they saw greenhouses, they fined property owners.

Blu Graham was fined $900,000, "$30,000 a day, when all I've ever done is grow vegetables in my greenhouses."

"There actually was no marijuana on the property!" says Greenberg. "They were just guessing that if you built a greenhouse, this must be connected to marijuana."

Finally, a lawsuit got the county to promise to end its ruinous fine system.

But it took four years.

Why do governments fight to keep outrageous fines that punish largely innocent people?

"Unlike other forms of punishment," says Greenberg, "fines make the government money. The prosecutor's office, state troopers, they get to keep the proceeds. It's an abusive system because they have every incentive to continue to prosecute."

I invited the heavy-fining judges and government lawyers to appear in my video to explain these fines. None would agree to talk about it.

Bureaucrats always want more money. It's a reason the Constitution prohibits excessive fines.

I trust that the Supreme Court will put a stop to these abuses.

COPYRIGHT 2026 BY JFS PRODUCTIONS INC.

The post How Local Governments Turn Minor Violations Into Financial Ruin appeared first on Reason Magazine.

From Rockett v. Eighmy, decided today by Eighth Circuit Judge David Stras, joined by Judges Bobby Shepherd and Jane Kelly:

When Judge Eric Eighmy had courthouse officers lock two children in holding cells because they refused to leave with their mother following a custody hearing, he violated their clearly established Fourth Amendment rights….

Bart Rockett and Kami Ballard divorced in Missouri, but initially stayed together to give their two kids, who were "aspiring stars," a chance to "make it big" in Los Angeles.  The children found some success in the entertainment industry, including appearing on America's Got Talent, but their parents eventually split up.

Ballard filed a petition for sole custody that landed on Judge Eighmy's desk. During a hearing several months later, the children waited outside the courtroom while their parents tried to work it out. They agreed on primary custody for Ballard, with Rockett responsible for them at the beginning of each month and "during TV pilot season."

Once the hearing was over, however, neither child was willing to leave with her. With an argument unfolding in the lobby of the courthouse, Judge Eighmy walked over, introduced himself to the children, and told them to follow him to a conference room. Once there, he informed them that they had no choice but to leave with her. A youth counselor then reinforced the point by telling them that they "ha[d] to listen to the judge." The children would not budge, even after the judge mentioned that the other option was foster care.

Frustrated, Judge Eighmy had the children follow him again, this time to a waiting area in the courthouse's juvenile division. Once there, he told someone to "[k]eep an eye on" them to "make sure they [did not] go anywhere." After disappearing for a few minutes, he led them down a hallway to two holding cells. A second threat to place them in foster care made no difference, so he had a juvenile officer "lock them up." Before they entered the cells, the officer patted them down and ordered them to remove their socks and shoes. Judge Eighmy stood by as the officer locked the doors behind them.

With the children in their separate holding cells, Judge Eighmy took a seat in a nearby office. After what "felt like forever," the officer opened the cell doors for Judge Eighmy, who asked them one more time whether they would leave with their mother. This time, they both nodded yes, so he let them go. From start to finish, the time spent in the holding-cell area was between twenty and forty minutes.

Following these events, Rockett sued in federal district court for, among other things, a violation of the children's Fourth Amendment rights…. [T]he jury awarded the children $5,000 each on their Fourth Amendment claims. From there, the district court declined to reduce the verdict and added $326,637.22 in attorney fees….

The procedural posture is a bit complicated, but the court denied both judicial immunity (based on an earlier panel decision on the issue) and qualified immunity:

Judge Eighmy violated the Fourth Amendment only if he seized the children and did so unreasonably. Locking the children up after the custody hearing was both….

Not every seizure … violates the Fourth Amendment. To the contrary, "[ ]reasonable" ones, like lawful arrests supported by probable cause, do not. But here, Judge Eighmy did not have "probable cause to believe that [the children had] committed" an offense, much less one that justified placing them in a holding cell. Rather, their only misdeed was one every parent knows well: resisting authority. Even in the context of legal-custody proceedings, refusing to leave with a parent is not a jailable offense. Nor were there "exigent circumstances" arising out of danger to themselves or others.

We have no doubt that Judge Eighmy believed he was acting in "good faith," and possibly even in the children's best interests, by detaining them. But good faith in the Fourth Amendment context is about reasonable reliance, either on binding appellate precedent or a warrant issued by a "neutral magistrate." Neither was present here. No case allows a judge to detain children in a holding cell when they refuse to leave with a parent. And a custody plan is no substitute for a warrant. In short, rough justice does not trump the Constitution….

The law in this area was also "clearly established." "[I]t would have been sufficiently clear [to] every reasonable official," Judge Eighmy included, that locking up two children for refusing to follow directions violated the Fourth Amendment. As we put it over a decade and a half ago, long before the events in this case, "[i]t is clearly established that a warrantless arrest, unsupported by probable cause, violates the Fourth Amendment." …

A reasonable judge should have known better. As we said the first time around [i.e., the first time the case went up on appeal], criminal contempt was off the table because the children were neither parties to the custody case nor present inside the courtroom. Nor could the power to punish a party for violating an injunction have provided the justification, given that Judge Eighmy never issued one….

And here's an excerpt from the 2023 decision denying judicial immunity (a separate question from qualified immunity):

Judicial immunity has been around a long time. See Yates v. Lansing (N.Y. Sup. Ct. 1810) ("The doctrine which holds a judge exempt from a civil suit or indictment, for any act done, or omitted to be done by him, sitting as judge, has a deep root in the common law."), aff'd (N.Y. 1811). In England, it served to insulate common-law judges on the King's courts from their rivals on other courts.

One of the earliest known examples involved a judge who presided over a murder trial. After it ended, he was dragged into a rival court and charged with conspiracy for his role. The prosecution ended, however, when the court recognized that the judge was "immune from prosecution … for [his] judicial act[]." …

As broad as the rule seemed to be, two exceptions narrowed its scope. The first was that judges could still be prosecuted for out-of-court "conspirac[ies]." That is, like any other citizen, judges could be haled into court for any illegal acts they committed outside the courtroom. The second was that, when judges "exceeded their authority" by considering a matter "not within their jurisdiction," their actions were … "without jurisdiction." Acting without "power and authority" eliminated the shield of judicial immunity.

As judicial rivalries began to wane, including in the American colonies, the power-and-authority rationale for judicial immunity did too. The focus shifted to protecting judicial independence: allowing judges "to act upon [their] own convictions, without apprehension of personal consequences." See Pierson v. Ray (1967) (explaining that judges "should not have to fear that unsatisfied litigants may hound [them] with litigation charging malice or corruption").

Judicial immunity continues to apply today, not only in prosecutions …, but in civil-rights actions brought under 42 U.S.C. § 1983…. The exceptions remain largely the same too. Judicial immunity can be "overcome in only two sets of circumstances": (1) when a judge takes "nonjudicial actions"; and (2) when the action is judicial, but is done "in the complete absence of all jurisdiction." …

On one end of the spectrum [of judicial action to nonjudicial action], the classic example of a judicial act is "resolving disputes between parties who have invoked the jurisdiction of a court." Other related acts qualify too, like holding litigants "in contempt," and issuing "search warrant[s]."

But those acts also have their limits. There is no doubt, for example, that judges can "direct[] police officers to bring counsel in a pending case before the court," but they cannot order the officers to beat them with their nightsticks along the way. Nor can judges wake up one day and decide to spontaneously issue a search warrant against a nosy neighbor or a political rival.

Like these examples, Judge Eighmy's decision to personally escort the kids to jail took what would otherwise be a judicial act too far. Judges have the authority to order an officer or a bailiff to escort an unruly litigant to jail. They can also pull the parties into a conference room to discuss what just happened in court.

Judge Eighmy crossed the line, however, when he personally escorted the kids to jail, stood there while they removed their clothes and belongings, and personally came back an hour later to release them. For one thing, the children were not even present in the courtroom, so he could not hold them in contempt for "[d]isorderly, contemptuous or insolent behavior." For another, judges do not do double duty as jailers. So even assuming Judge Eighmy could have ordered someone else to take the kids to jail, he could not put them there himself.

It is no answer that Judge Eighmy believes he was exercising his contempt power. To be sure, absolute immunity is available for judges who hold a litigant in contempt even when they are "not in [their] … robes, … no[r] in the courtroom itself." But here, the children were never parties, they never stepped foot in the courtroom, and Judge Eighmy personally locked them up himself. We have been unable to find any case that extends judicial immunity so far.

Judge Eighmy fares no better with his other argument: that Missouri law allows judges to enforce child-welfare statutes informally. Without question, police officers can take children into custody if they are behaving in a way "injurious to [their] welfare or to the welfare of others." But not judges, who can only order others to "[t]ake charge of children before and after" a juvenile hearing. The point is that judicial immunity is unavailable because what Judge Eighmy did is not "a function normally performed by a judge." …

Thanks to James Creigh for the pointer.

The post No Immunity for Judge Who Locked Children in Holding Cells in Custody Case appeared first on Reason Magazine.

From State v. Amyda, decided Friday by the Iowa Supreme Court, in a unanimous opinion by Justice Edward Mansfield:

In this sexual abuse case, we are asked to decide whether the district court erred in admitting a video. The video graphically shows the defendant abusing the victim. However, there was no chain-of-custody evidence connecting the video to the defendant. The victim was asleep at the time and could not personally attest to the abuse shown in the video. And the defendant claimed "deepfake."

On our review, we conclude that the district court did not abuse its discretion in admitting the video. The video came to the victim's attention about a month after the defendant had been in the victim's bedroom. The video appears to be taken by the perpetrator of the abuse at close range using a cellphone. It shows the victim sleeping, but she testified in detail that she recognized her bedroom, her bed and furnishings, the clothing she had been wearing, her legs and genitalia, and the defendant's tattooed hand—all as they had been that evening.

Collectively, these circumstances were enough to admit the video. And the defendant's mere speculation that the video was a deepfake was not enough to bar its admission….

The court concluded that the video had been adequately authenticated:

To authenticate the video, the State had to "produce evidence sufficient to support a finding that the item is what the proponent claims it is." Iowa R. Evid. 5.901(a). According to Iowa Rule of Evidence 5.901, one example of sufficient evidence is "[d]istinctive characteristics and the like." That is, evidence such as a video may be authenticated by its "appearance, contents, substance, internal patterns, or other distinctive characteristics of the item, taken together with all the circumstances."

We applied this circumstantial-evidence principle in State v. Holderness (Iowa 1980). Holderness, which predated the adoption of the Iowa Rules of Evidence, was a burglary case involving the admissibility of a photograph. There the victim awoke to find that his garage doors were open and some of his property was missing. One of the missing items was a briefcase that contained, among other things, an Instamatic camera. Two hours later a boy in the neighborhood brought by a roll of Instamatic film that he had found. The film was developed. It turned out to have eight photographs the victim had taken recently in the course of his work and two additional photographs. One of those two photographs showed the defendant on his knees in the victim's backyard, near the garage, holding the briefcase partially open.

We held in Holderness that the photograph portraying the defendant with the briefcase outside the garage was properly admitted even though no one could directly confirm its accuracy or testify as to how it was taken. We began our discussion by observing,

Conventionally these foundation elements [for admission of a photograph] are shown by the direct testimony of a person who, although perhaps not connected with the photography, observed the scene and testifies that the picture fairly shows it, or who describes the photographic process employed and testifies it produces accurate pictures. These of course are the easier cases.

The harder cases are those in which direct testimony is not available and the proponent must rely on circumstances to lay a foundation for admission.

This, of course, was one of the "harder cases." … [W]e held [in Holderness] that the photograph could be authenticated based on a series of circumstances. The roll of film had been recovered nearby, the morning after the burglary. The victim had taken the previous photographs on the roll but not the ninth and tenth ones. The victim could identify his boat and his trash-can rack in the photograph in question. He testified that—apart from the presence of the defendant—the scene corresponded to the outside of his garage at the time of the burglary. And the victim further testified that the camera in the past had taken reliable photographs that had never come back modified, altered, or changed.

A few years later, … we … [upheld] the admission of photographs in another case. There the defendant was charged with having committed sexual abuse on three children—two girls and one boy. At trial, a number of photographs depicting the sexual activity were admitted into evidence. Several of the photographs were admitted through the testimony of the two girls. They testified that the defendant, or one of them at the defendant's direction, had taken those photographs. They identified the defendant in the photographs. However, five of the photographs were admitted through the testimony of a detective, who had been neither a photographer nor a firsthand observer. We summarized as follows:

Although the detective was not, like the girl victims, a direct witness to the depicted activities, he had observed the defendant's bedroom where other photographs were taken and testified that the decor of the room pictured in some of the photographs was that of the defendant's bedroom. Moreover, the five photographs in question were graphically similar to the many photographs properly admitted during the victims' testimony.

We concluded that "[t]he detective's testimony about the decor of the room, together with the photographs authenticated by the victims, satisfied the foundational requirements for admissibility of the five photographs admitted during the detective's testimony." …

Turning to the facts of this case, we agree with the district court and the court of appeals that the State presented sufficient evidence to authenticate the video.

The video appears to be taken with a cellphone held in the right hand of the person whose left hand is visible committing sexual abuse. Clara had communicated with Amyda by messaging him that evening; presumably, he would have brought his cellphone to their encounter. Also, Clara fell asleep in her bedroom with Amyda after they both had been drinking; the video shows her face and closed eyes as she is sleeping soundly. Further, Clara identified Amyda's tattooed hand, her bedroom, her bed and pillows, her clothing, and her legs and genitalia in the video. Indeed, the only thing in the video that Clara couldn't personally verify was the abuse itself. Moreover, the video surfaced a little over a month after May 5, and when Clara tried to communicate with Amyda about it, he blocked her.

Amyda argues that "[a]llowing an individual to authenticate a video that portrays an event by simply identifying 'distinctive characteristics' of items in the video, without more, effectively erases any protection that Rule 5.901 provides against the admission of fabricated evidence." But the circumstantial evidence here went beyond just the distinctive characteristics of items in a video. Furthermore, the distinctive characteristics here ranged from the private (Clara's bedroom) to the shockingly private (her genitalia). What third-party fabricator would have access to all that?

As the court of appeals noted, appellate cases from other jurisdictions have upheld the authentication of videos [in such situations]….

We are not oblivious to the risks of video evidence. Like the New York Court of Appeals, we recognize that "most fabricated videos 'leverage' real details from real photos and videos of real places and people, then alter the pieces the person wishes to alter to create a realistic, but manipulated, video." In re M.S. (N.Y. 2026). In In re M.S., New York's highest court ruled, over two separate dissents, that videos of sexual abuse obtained by a self-described hacker and provided to law enforcement well after the events in question—had not been sufficiently authenticated and should not have been admitted in a family court case. But here, by contrast, there are no identifiable circumstances to suggest that the video might be a deepfake.

For all these reasons, we agree that the video was properly authenticated ….

And the court likewise rejected the argument that the video should have been excluded under the so-called "best-evidence rule":

[T]he best-evidence rule … provides, "An original writing, recording, or photograph is required to prove its content, unless these rules or a statute provides otherwise." The rules also contain the following qualification: "A duplicate is admissible to the same extent as the original unless a genuine question is raised about the original's authenticity or the circumstances make it unfair to admit the duplicate."

The State relies on this qualification to rebut Amyda's best-evidence argument. The State maintains that the video here was admissible as if it were the original because Amyda failed to raise a genuine question of authenticity. We agree with the State that Amyda didn't raise a genuine question, only conjecture.

Much of the closing argument made by Amyda's counsel urged the jury to conclude that the video was a deepfake. Yet his advocacy rested on popular culture rather than any of the evidence in the case. The closing argument began, "Is it fake? Is it real? Ladies and gentlemen, we live in the age of artificial intelligence." It continued, "In this state of artificial intelligence, people can manipulate a video to look like whatever they want to look—they want it to look like." Amyda's counsel proceeded to refer to various news stories about celebrities and other people who had been the subject of deepfake videos, including deepfake pornography.

But apart from trying to cash in on the so-called "liar's dividend," Amyda's counsel had little to work with. {The term "liar's dividend" refers to the possibility that public awareness of deepfakes will make it easier to raise doubts about legitimate evidence. See Bobby Chesney & Danielle Citron, Deep Fakes: A Looming Challenge for Privacy, Democracy, and National Security, 107 Cal. L. Rev. 1753, 1785–86 (2019) ("[A] skeptical public will be primed to doubt the authenticity of real audio and video evidence. This skepticism can be invoked just as well against authentic as against adulterated content.").} The prosecutor countered as follows in her rebuttal argument:

So when [defense counsel] is wa[ ]ving around articles and talking about deepfake porn, that is not evidence, ladies and gentlemen. That is not evidence. What is evidence is what you heard from that stand.

Fake video, imagine someone to make a fake video in this matter would have to know, as [Clara] described, the intrinsic details of her body.

Unfortunately, we had to talk a lot about private matters, right? They had her stretch marks on her legs that she identified. They had her vagina and the unshaven position as she recollected. They had stubble on her legs. They had her hair positioned as such.

They had her exact clothing that she would have been wearing the night she was with the defendant, and even more so, when he parted her labia, you can see that she has coloration down there. They would have to know all those intrinsic details to make up this video. Who would know that?

Accordingly, the district court did not abuse its discretion in overruling Amyda's best-evidence objection. See State v. Christian Church (Del. Super. Ct. 2025) ("The mere suggestion that a video may have been altered does not create such a genuine issue."); Perry v. United States (D.C. 2026) (indicating that the defendant needed to provide "some basis" to think that the Instagram video was an inaccurate reproduction)….

Joshua Henry (Iowa Assistant AG) represents the state.

The post Claiming Video Was "Deepfake" Not Enough to Require Excluding It, Even Absent Evidence of Who Recorded It appeared first on Reason Magazine.