On a Tuesday morning in February 2025, federal agents descended upon Ayala's Mini Market, a convenience store in Glendale, Arizona, that offered check cashing, money transfer, shipping, and cellphone repair services along with standard items such as groceries, snacks, sodas, and cigarettes. The agents, who worked for the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) and the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), seized three computers, five cellphones, and business records, plus about $460,000 in cash and checks. They did not say why.

Twenty months later, the store's owner, Mario Ayala, still has not received a definitive answer to that question. Nor has the government told him what it plans to do with his property or how he can try to get it back. That Kafkaesque situation is unconstitutional, Ayala's lawyers at the Institute for Justice argue in a motion and memorandum they filed on Tuesday in the U.S. District Court for the District of Arizona. The motion seeks the return of the property seized from Ayala's business, saying there is no legitimate reason for the government to keep it.

"The government can't take your stuff, disappear, and then never explain itself," says Institute for Justice attorney Betsy Sanz. "For over a year and a half, the government has been holding Mario's money and property. This prolonged seizure violates the Fourth Amendment and federal law. The government cannot hold onto your property indefinitely without explanation so it can eventually take it permanently using civil forfeiture."

The raid on Ayala's store happened while he was visiting his ailing father in Mexico, who died a couple of months later. After Ayala's wife and son called to tell him what had happened, he rushed back to Arizona, where he tried to figure out why his business had been targeted by the IRS and the DHS. That was harder than you might think.

Ayala "has heard nothing from the government since they raided his business and seized his property," Sanz and her colleagues note in their memorandum. When the agents left, they told Ayala's son that "the business would receive a letter within thirty days," the memorandum says, but "no letter came," and the government "has not told Mario why it took his property or why it refuses to return it."

The agents left a one-page inventory of the property they took, including the computers, cellphones (two of which belonged to Ayala's customers), documents, and currency, although it did not specify the amount of money. They also left the first page of a warrant signed by a federal magistrate judge, which contained no information about the crime they were investigating or the property they were authorized to seize. It referred to attachments that might have clarified those points, but the attachments were missing.

Ayala still has not seen those attachments. But on the same day the agents raided his store, they also searched 18 other businesses in the Phoenix area, all of which offered money services. Judging from the warrants served on three of those other businesses, which were signed by the same magistrate judge at the same time on the same day as the warrant for Ayala's Mini Market, the legal justification for the searches was suspected violations of 31 USC 5324, which makes it a felony to "structure" a financial transaction with the intent of "evading" federal reporting requirements.

The Bank Secrecy Act requires that financial institutions report cash transactions involving more than $10,000 to the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network (FinCEN). Although that mandate is aimed at money laundering, someone can be guilty of structuring even without evidence of any other crime if he deliberately tries to avoid triggering a FinCEN report by breaking up a transaction into amounts below the threshold. As far as Ayala can tell, the search of his store was based on nothing more than suspicion of structuring.

If so, Ayala's lawyers argue, the IRS agents who participated in the raid violated a 2019 federal law that bars the agency from seizing money when structuring is the only suspected crime. Congress passed that law in response to IRS forfeiture abuses highlighted by the Institute for Justice. "For the IRS to legally seize property based on a structuring offense, it must also have an added suspicion of some other criminal act," Sanz et al. note. "Yet the IRS seized Mario's property, apparently on the sole suspicion of a structuring violation."

That is not the only legal problem with the seizure. Assuming the government plans to seek forfeiture of Ayala's money based on an alleged connection to criminal activity, it missed a crucial deadline. The Civil Asset Forfeiture Reform Act (CAFRA) requires the federal government to notify property owners of attempted forfeitures within 60 days of the seizure. That deadline passed a year and a half ago, and Ayala still has received no such notice.

"This notice is crucial because it informs a property owner that the government intends to forfeit his property and triggers his ability to respond by filing a claim or administrative petition," Ayala's lawyers note. If the government fails to meet that requirement, CAFRA says, it "shall return the property."

The government can seek extensions of the CAFRA deadline "only if there is reason to believe that notice may have an adverse result," such as "endangering the life or physical safety of an individual," "flight from prosecution," "destruction of or tampering with evidence," "intimidation of potential witnesses," or "otherwise seriously jeopardizing an investigation or unduly delaying a trial." None of those conditions applies in this case, Sanz et al. say, and their client "is unaware of the government seeking any such extension here."

Another possible rationale for keeping Ayala's property is that the government needs it as evidence in a criminal investigation. But his lawyers argue that the seized items "have no independent evidentiary value."

The government "cannot claim that it is holding the cash as evidence of the suspected structuring offense, because the government—in the usual course—does not continue to hold the physical cash it seizes but rather promptly deposits it," the memorandum says. "To prove the suspected offense here, the government would present evidence documenting the amounts and frequency of transactions and evidence that the defendant intentionally evaded reporting requirements. No fact the government must prove to establish a structuring offense becomes more or less provable by the government's continued possession of Mario's money."

Although "the checks and business documents that the government seized from Mario may at first have had some evidentiary value," Sanz et al. say, it could have long since returned the originals and kept copies. As for the computers and cellphones, "the government has had ample time to extract and copy" any relevant information.

While the benefits of keeping Ayala's property seem highly dubious, the cost to him has been severe. The seizure of the checks and currency wreaked havoc with his business model, which relies on money received for transfers to cash checks, which in turn are scanned and used to pay the companies that handle the transfers.

"The search and seizure of Mario's property upended his business," the memorandum says. "He had to keep his business closed until March 1, 2025, to replace the seized computers and to figure out how they could keep the business open. He took $50,000 of his own money out of the bank so that he could keep cashing customers' checks. When that ran out, the business had to stop cashing checks for a long time, losing customers."

Ayala "also had to come up with $112,097.20 to pay the money transmitters to cover the balance that had accrued while he was away," his lawyers add. "Since all the cash and cashed-but-unscanned checks had been seized, Mario needed to pay this money to the transmitters on his own. Though he did ultimately pay back all the money transmitters over the following month, the consequences of the raid damaged Mario's business relationship with one of the money transmitters he had formerly worked with, InterMex. Today, the business can no longer offer InterMex as an option for money transfers."

Ayala's business "is now finally stable, but it is still not doing as well as it was before the raid," Sanz et al. say. "Mario has changed the way he runs his business because of the raid. He now scans every customer's cashed check to send it to the money transmitters as soon as it is cashed, rather than collecting [checks] and scanning them together as they previously did. He constantly worries that his business will be targeted again."

In the 20 months since the raid, the government has not filed a forfeiture action or even notified Ayala that it intends to do so. Nor has it filed any criminal charges related to the seizure, as far as Ayala knows. "The government has no lawful reason to retain
Mario's property," his lawyers say, "and this Court should exercise its equitable jurisdiction to order its return."

The motion relies on Federal Rule of Criminal Procedure 41(g), which says "a person aggrieved by an unlawful search and seizure of property or by the deprivation of property may move for the property's return." The U.S. Court of Appeals for the 9th Circuit, which includes Arizona, has adopted four criteria for granting such a motion: whether the government "displayed a callous disregard for the constitutional rights of the movant," whether "the movant has an individual interest in and need for the property he wants returned," whether "the movant would be irreparably injured by denying return of the property," and whether "the movant has an adequate remedy at law for the redress of his grievance."

All of those factors count in Ayala's favor, Sanz et al. argue. Ayala's interest in the property and the injury he is suffering are clear, as is the absence of any other remedy. As for the first criterion, "the government can neither forfeit Mario's property nor justify holding it as evidence, so its continued retention is unreasonable under the Fourth Amendment," the memorandum says. "And its nearly 20 months of silence, without any notice or any forum in which to contest the seizure, offends due process. At every turn, the government has 'callous[ly] disregarded' Mario's constitutional rights."

Ayala immigrated to the United States from Mexico in 1991 and struggled for years to make a go of his business, which was successful enough at the time of the raid that he planned to open a new location devoted to cellphone repair. That plan is now on hold because of the financial difficulties caused by the seizure.

"This business is my American Dream, and the government took years of my hard work without telling me what I did," Ayala says. "This raid hurt me and my family. I hope this lawsuit gets my money back and helps make sure this doesn't happen to anyone else."

The post The Feds Took $460,000 From This Arizona Convenience Store Owner and Never Explained Why appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Since 1871, a federal statute has authorized Americans to sue state and local officials for violating their constitutional rights. But since 1982, thanks to the court-invented doctrine of qualified immunity, such claims have been allowed only when they allege violations of "clearly established" law.

Because courts often require plaintiffs to meet that standard by citing precedents involving closely similar facts, qualified immunity can prove insurmountable even for victims of outrageous abuses. But as two recent cases illustrate, there are limits to this license for misconduct, meaning officials may still be held accountable when they flout longstanding constitutional principles, even when they do so in novel ways.

In 2022, Mario Rosales and Gracie Lasyone sued two Alexandria, Louisiana, police officers, Samuel Terrell and Jim Lewis, alleging that they had pulled Rosales over without legal justification. The cops ordered Rosales and Lasyone, his girlfriend, out of the car and detained them for 21 minutes, during which they grilled the couple about illegal drugs, frisked Rosales, and instructed him to empty his pockets.

Terrell and Lewis sought refuge in qualified immunity. But last month, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 5th Circuit ruled that Rosales and Lasyone had plausibly alleged several Fourth Amendment violations, including a stop based on a "fabricated traffic violation," an improperly prolonged detention, and unjustified searches.

In reaching that conclusion, the 5th Circuit relied mainly on a 1968 decision in which the Supreme Court said police may detain someone only if they reasonably suspect he is involved in criminal activity and may frisk him only if they reasonably suspect he is "armed and dangerous." Assuming the facts alleged in the lawsuit are true, the three-judge panel unanimously held, Terrell and Lewis had failed both of those tests.

When the officers stopped Rosales, the principles that the 5th Circuit applied had been the law of the land for more than half a century. Terrell and Lewis nevertheless argued that "any constitutional violation arising from the traffic stop was not clearly established," which gives you a sense of the chutzpah that qualified immunity invites.

Police commonly pull drivers over, ostensibly for traffic violations, in the hope of implicating them in drug crimes. A case that the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 8th Circuit considered this month involved a much more unusual scenario: a judge who locked two children in jail cells because he was frustrated by their resistance to a parental custody decision.

During a 2019 hearing in Taney County, Missouri, a divorced couple agreed that the mother would have primary custody of their two children, then 12 and 14. But contrary to that agreement, the children did not want to go home with their mother, which led to an argument in the courthouse lobby.

Judge Eric Eighmy intervened, telling the children they had to leave with their mother and repeatedly warning them that they could end up in foster care if they refused to do so. When that did not work, Eighmy jailed them until they became more cooperative.

"The time spent in the holding-cell area was between twenty and forty minutes," the 8th Circuit noted. And since Eighmy did not have probable cause to believe the children had committed any offense, "much less one that justified placing them in a holding cell," the court said, their confinement clearly violated the Fourth Amendment.

If so, Eighmy argued, he had no way of knowing that. The 8th Circuit panel unanimously disagreed: "As we put it over a decade and a half ago, long before the events in this case, 'it is clearly established that a warrantless arrest, unsupported by probable cause, violates the Fourth Amendment.'"

Notably, the 8th Circuit did not think the bizarre details of the case counted in Eighmy's favor. "We are not concerned about the lack of a prior case" with "fundamentally similar" facts, it said. "Indeed, given how clear the law is, it would have been surprising to find one."

© Copyright 2026 by Creators Syndicate Inc.

The post 2 Recent Cases Illustrate the Limits of a Doctrine That Often Blocks Civil Rights Claims appeared first on Reason Magazine.

A Missouri judge who locked two children in jail cells because he was frustrated by their resistance to a parental custody decision is liable for violating their Fourth Amendment rights, a federal appeals court ruled this week. The U.S. Court of Appeals for the 8th Circuit rejected Taney County Judge Eric Eighmy's claim that he was shielded by qualified immunity, a doctrine that blocks federal civil rights claims unless they allege a violation of "clearly established" law.

"A reasonable judge should have known better," Judge David Stras writes in an opinion joined by the two other members of the 8th Circuit panel. "The law was 'clearly established' enough" to "place the issue 'beyond debate.'"

Institute for Justice attorney Dylan Moore, who wrote an 8th Circuit brief arguing against immunity for Eighmy and participated in oral arguments, welcomed the decision. "Every reasonable person knows that a judge can't throw children in jail for no good reason," he said. "Yet Judge Eighmy claimed qualified immunity shielded him from accountability anyway because no prior case told him that imprisoning innocent kids is unconstitutional. That defense is ridiculous, and we are thrilled that the court saw through it. When government officials commit such obvious constitutional violations, qualified immunity should never enter the picture."

The incident at the center of the case happened after an October 2019 custody hearing involving Kadan Rockett, then 14, and his 12-year-old sister, Brooklyn, who had achieved a modicum of fame as magicians performing on America's Got Talent. Their divorced parents, Bart Rockett and Kami Ballard, agreed that Ballard, who at that point lived in Missouri, would have primary custody of the children, while Rockett, who was living in California, would be "responsible for them at the beginning of each month and 'during TV pilot season.'" But Kadan and Brooklyn did not want to go home with their mother, which led to an argument in the lobby of the courthouse.

Eighmy intervened, telling Kadan and Brooklyn to come with him to a conference room, where he informed them that they had to leave with Ballard. "The children would not budge, even after the judge mentioned that the other option was foster care," Stras notes. "Frustrated, Judge Eighmy had the children follow him again, this time to a waiting area in the courthouse's juvenile division." A few minutes later, Eighmy "led them down a hallway to two holding cells."

Outside the cells, Eighmy again threatened Kadan and Brooklyn with foster care, but they were still unmoved. "Lock them up," the judge told an officer, who "patted them down and ordered them to remove their socks and shoes" before confining them in separate cells.

It is not clear exactly how much time Kadan and Brooklyn spent in the cells. The Institute for Justice says "about an hour," while Stras says "the time spent in the holding-cell area was between twenty and forty minutes." In any case, the children's respect for Eighmy's authority had improved by the time he came back. He "asked them one more time whether they would leave with their mother," Stras writes. "This time, they both nodded yes, so he let them go."

In June 2021, Rockett, the children's father, sued Eighmy on their behalf under 42 USC 1983, which authorizes claims against state or local officials who violate constitutional rights under color of law. In his motion to dismiss the lawsuit, Eighmy argued that he was protected by judicial immunity, which is absolute with respect to a judge's official duties. U.S. District Judge Douglas Harpool disagreed, and the 8th Circuit affirmed that ruling in 2023, noting that Kadan and Brooklyn were beyond Eighmy's contempt power because they were not parties to the custody case and that "judges do not do double duty as jailers."

Eighmy reiterated his judicial immunity claim in a motion for summary judgment, and Harpool rejected it again. After the trial began, Eighmy claimed qualified immunity twice, once after all the evidence had been submitted and again after the jury's verdict in favor of Kadan and Brooklyn. Harpool denied him that defense both times.

The jury ultimately awarded Kadan and Brooklyn $5,000 each in damages, and Harpool added about $327,000 in attorney fees. Eighmy appealed again, reiterating his judicial immunity claim. But the appeals court ruled that he had abandoned that argument by failing to raise it during the trial or after the verdict. So Eighmy was left with qualified immunity, which the appeals court said he did not deserve.

Eighmy clearly violated the Fourth Amendment's prohibition of unreasonable seizures, Stras says, because he "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."

Did Eighmy's authority as a judge give him extra leeway? Nope. "Criminal contempt was off the table because the children were neither parties to the custody case nor present inside the courtroom," Stras notes. "Nor could the power to punish a party for violating an injunction have provided the justification, given that Judge Eighmy never issued one."

Eighmy's motive for jailing the children does not change that analysis. "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," Stras writes. "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.'"

What about Eighmy's argument that he had no way of knowing his actions were unconstitutional? "The law in this area" was "clearly established," Stras says. "'[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."

That principle was so well established, in fact, that Kadan and Brooklyn, neither of whom had attended law school, took it for granted. "I don't know how you have a right to lock us up," Kadan told Eighmy when he threatened to jail them, according to Rockett's amended complaint. "We have done nothing wrong." The complaint says Brooklyn raised the same point. "How can you just lock up kids?" she asked. "This isn't legal. We've done nothing wrong."

Given Eighmy's obvious disregard for Kadan and Brooklyn's Fourth Amendment rights, "we are not concerned about the lack of a prior case" with "fundamentally similar" facts, Stras says. "Indeed, given how clear the law is, it would have been surprising to find one." He quotes an observation that Supreme Court Justice Neil Gorsuch made as a 10th Circuit judge: "Sometimes the most obviously unlawful things happen so rarely that a case on point is itself an unusual thing."

The post The 8th Circuit Rejects Qualified Immunity for a Judge Who Jailed 2 Kids for 'Refusing To Follow Directions' appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Kimberly Guilfoyle today resigned from her position as the U.S. ambassador to Greece shortly after the White House confirmed that President Donald Trump had asked her to do so. The main provocation seems to have been Guilfoyle's alleged influence peddling, which reportedly featured a request that Republican donor Eric Deters pay off her $100,000 American Express bill, in exchange for which she promised him special access to "Trump world."

The president signaled his displeasure on Monday, saying "we're looking at" axing Guilfoyle, his son's former girlfriend, because "we're not happy." On Tuesday, Trump added that "we didn't like what we were reading." That reaction is not surprising, since Guilfoyle would have been horning in on Trump's territory by trying to sell access and use her office for personal gain. That's his thing.

Consider Trump's attempts to promote the memecoin that he launched three days before beginning his second term. That April, the top 220 $TRUMP holders were invited to "an intimate private dinner" with the president on May 22. The "top 25 coin holders" were promised "an Exclusive Reception before Dinner with YOUR FAVORITE PRESIDENT," plus a "Special VIP Tour" of the White House the next day. The coin's price, which after an initial surge had fallen dramatically since Inauguration Day, rose by more than 50 percent immediately after that announcement.

"Since the announcement, crypto investors around the world have raced to expand their holdings of $TRUMP," The New York Times reported 10 days before the dinner. "Certain buyers, in interviews and statements, have said they bought the coins or entered the dinner contest with the intention of securing an action by Mr. Trump to affect United States policy."

NBC reported that the coin investors who attended the dinner, which was held at the Trump National Golf Club in Sterling, Virginia, had collectively spent $394 million on $TRUMP. On average, that worked out to about $1.8 million a plate.

"This is my president that we're talking about, but I am willing to say that this gives me pause," Sen. Cynthia Lummis (R–Wyo.) said a few weeks before the dinner. "In abstract," Sen. Thom Tillis (R–N.C.) allowed, the event "is hard to understand." Sen. Lisa Murkowski (R–Alaska) drew an analogy: "I don't think it would be appropriate for me to charge people to come into the Capitol and take a tour."

Donald Sherman, executive director of Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington, was blunter. "This is one of the most blatant and appalling instances of selling access to the presidency I've ever seen," he said.

Compared to that episode, the controversy over the income that Trump's hotel in Washington, D.C., received from influence seekers during his first term might seem tame. But it raised similar ethical questions, albeit in a slightly more subtle way.

The Trump International Hotel's customers included Republican political organizations and a long list of trade groups, such as the National Mining Association, the Independent Petroleum Association of America, the National Confectioners Association, and the Vapor Technology Association, whose interests might be served by currying favor with the president. The hotel also attracted business from the governments of foreign countries, such as Kuwait, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Azerbaijan, Malaysia, and Romania, that likewise may have been investing in Trump's good will.

"Believe me, all the delegations will go there," a "Middle Eastern diplomat" told The Washington Post after Trump's election. "Why wouldn't I stay at his hotel blocks from the White House, so I can tell the new president, 'I love your new hotel!'" an "Asian diplomat" said. "Isn't it rude to come to his city and say, 'I am staying at your competitor'?" The Embassy of Kuwait, which had previously held its annual National Day celebration at the Four Seasons, reportedly canceled its reservation there and switched to the president-elect's hotel under pressure from the Trump Organization.

Trump saw no problem with any of this. "The law is totally on my side," he told The New York Times in November 2016. "The president can't have a conflict of interest." He reiterated that take at a press conference nine days before his inauguration. "I have a no-conflict situation because I'm president," he said.

Trump nevertheless said he would donate the profits from money spent by foreign governments at his hotels to the U.S. Treasury. But that solution did not address the money he was taking in from various domestic interest groups or his ability to enrich himself by encouraging Republican organizations or other federal officials to patronize his businesses.

One example of the latter: Vice President Mike Pence and his party stayed at Trump's golf resort in Doonbeg, Ireland, during an official trip in 2019. Although Trump insisted he "had nothing to do" with that decision, critics perceived a violation of the Domestic Emoluments Clause, which says the president may not receive additional compensation from the federal government beyond his official salary.

Trump later said he regretted his attempts to address conflicts of interest during his first term, including his promise that the Trump Organization would avoid new foreign business deals. "I prohibited [my sons] from doing business in my first term, and I got absolutely no credit for it," he told The New York Times 12 days before his second inauguration. "I didn't have to do that, and it's really unfair to them." The lesson he drew was that "nobody cared."

Consistent with that assessment, Trump has thrown all caution to the wind during his second term, capitalizing on his position to rake in millions of dollars by hawking all manner of presidentially branded merchandise, ranging from bibles to cologne; obtain a $400 million "palace in the sky" from the government of Qatar; extort $1 billion in pro bono legal work from disfavored law firms; earn billions from the same cryptocurrency industry he was simultaneously deregulating; and arrange a sweet IRS immunity deal that could save him more than $100 million in back taxes, interest, and penalties. Any worries about unseemly profiteering by Trump's family are long gone, as evidenced by federal contracts with businesses backed by his sons and highly lucrative foreign deals negotiated by his son-in-law.

Compared to all of that, the $100,000 that Guilfoyle allegedly sought in exchange for using her influence with the Trump administration to help Deters looks like pocket change. Her real sin, one suspects, was failing to offer her boss a piece of the action.

The post Trump Fired Kimberly Guilfoyle for Influence Peddling That Pales Next to His Presidential Profiteering appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Ammon Bundy was once considered the face of America's far-right militia movement. Now he's speaking out against President Donald Trump and his treatment of immigrants. 

"How do you demonize them to the point where they should be rounded up by armed men in the government, kicking down their doors and dragging them off?" Bundy tells Reason.

Bundy views Trump's violent, indiscriminate immigration crackdown as just the latest example of how an oversized, tyrannical United States government is stomping on individual rights. Bundy has sacrificed a lot for his beliefs, including serving a two-year stint in federal prison (though he was ultimately acquitted) and being stripped of his property. It hasn't stopped Bundy from continuing to fight for what he believes in.

The anti-government activist first entered the national spotlight in 2014 when he joined his father, Cliven Bundy, in an armed standoff against the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) at the elder Bundy's Bunkerville, Nevada, ranch. The BLM had impounded 400 of Cliven's cattle after a decades-long disagreement over land rights had ended with Cliven's refusal to pay his grazing fees. Cliven and Ammon solicited militias from around the country to join them in confronting the federal agents guarding the confiscated cattle. The show of force caused the BLM to stand down and release the cows. The conflict, closely followed by the national media, made Ammon and his father celebrities and established a pattern in which the younger Bundy would aggressively challenge what he deemed to be the federal government's violation of individual rights.

Just two years later, Bundy championed the cause of Oregon ranchers Dwight and Steven Hammond, who were imprisoned for allegedly setting fires on federal land adjacent to their property. Bundy says their prosecution was simply another power play by the government. Rather than accept the United States Court of Appeals decision to re-sentence the Hammonds to an additional five years, Bundy led a group of armed followers to occupy the nearby Malheur National Wildlife Refuge in Harney County, Oregon to protest the court's decision. Again, the national media spotlight was on Bundy. The occupation, which lasted 41 days, ended with an FBI ambush, resulting in the death of one of Bundy's allies, an Arizona rancher named LaVoy Finicum. 

"They shot him three times in the back, and he died in the snow," lamented Bundy.

Bundy and his allies were arrested on January 26, 2016. The FBI simultaneously pursued charges against Bundy for the Oregon occupation and the earlier Bunkerville standoff. He faced life in prison. After spending about two years locked up, he was acquitted of all charges. Then on July 10th of 2018, Trump pardoned the Hammonds, and they were released from prison. 

"That wouldn't have happened if we hadn't made such a big deal out of it," continued Bundy.

Bundy was living in Idaho during the COVID-19 pandemic and was arrested multiple times for protesting lockdown measures. In 2022 he challenged Idaho's Republican establishment by running for governor as an independent. Two months before the primary, the 10-month-old grandson of Ammon's campaign manager was taken by Child Protective Services after doctors at St. Luke's Hospital in Boise suspected the parents were neglecting the child's health. Bundy, furious, accused St. Luke's of kidnapping. The child was returned to his parents six days later, but St. Luke's sued Bundy and his campaign manager, saying they bullied and intimidated staff while disrupting business at the hospital. With the lawsuit pending, Bundy lost the election to the Republican incumbent, Brad Little, though received 17 percent of the vote. Bundy did not show up in court, and he and his co-defendants were ordered to pay St. Luke's nearly $53 million in damages. Bundy's home and most of his assets were seized. He faced the possibility of another lengthy jail sentence.  

"They got a gag order against me where I couldn't speak about (the baby) Cyrus's case. And of course, I kept speaking about it. They kept getting contempt charges until finally they ended up getting a $250,000 bond against me, and I had to leave the state."

Bundy fled with his wife and five kids to Cedar City, Utah, where a friend offered them a one-room attic apartment. He joined his brother's diesel truck parts business and was eventually able to move his family into a house.

After vocally opposing Trump's anti-immigrant rhetoric during his first run for president, Ammon continued to criticize Trump in his second term, drawing parallels between the federal agents who seized his father's cattle and U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents acting with impunity in American cities.

"If I and my family were threatened by federal agents in an unconstitutional way, I would do all I could to oppose them. In fact, I have pretty good experience with that," Bundy said in a Facebook post during Operation Metro Surge in Minneapolis in early 2026.

 In 2025, Bundy circulated a self-published essay titled, "The Stranger: A Christian and Constitutional Case for Protecting Those Who Come to America." In the essay, Bundy argues that treating immigrants like criminals simply for lacking "official permission" to cross the United States border violates constitutional ideals and defies the spirit of an American society built by legal and "illegal" immigrants. He also draws heavily on scripture to assert that Christians have a spiritual calling to protect and welcome immigrants.

Bundy's criticisms of Trump's immigration crackdown has cost Bundy friends, including some of his allies from Oregon and Bunkerville. He had a falling out with one former ally who "was bragging about how the ICE agent pulled his gun so fast," to shoot and kill Alex Pretti, the 37-year-old intensive care nurse in Minneapolis. The ally "was someone that literally went to prison with us," continues Bundy. "How in the world do you take that position, after having federal weapons pointed at you? How could you possibly say something like that? It's disgusting."

Despite recent dust-ups with friends and supporters, Bundy remains in high demand for guidance and inspiration. While Reason was filming Bundy in his small auto parts shop fulfilling orders, a friend called him to ask for advice on legal troubles. Bundy reassured him and asked him to send the paperwork over so he could be of better assistance. That inclination just seems to be second nature for Bundy. He's always ready to lend a helping hand, while simultaneously advocating for personal responsibility.

"If you want a healthy nation, you must look at an individual and protect those liberties, protect those freedoms," says Bundy.

As for how Bundy feels about the direction of our current government—it's unflinching. 

"Like George Washington said, government is like a fire. It can be a useful tool or a terrible master. And a terrible master is what our government has become."

 

Photo Credits: Alex Milan Tracy/Sipa USA/Newscom ; Mike Stotts/ZUMAPRESS/Newscom; Andy Nelson/ZUMA Press/Newscom; Vyacheslav Prokofyev/TASS/Newscom; Sean Madden/Planetpix/ZUMA Press/Newscom; Prentice C. James/Cal Sport Media/Newscom; Mark Black/ZUMA Press/Newscom; John Nacion/ZUMA Press/Newscom; Jeremy Hogan/Polaris/Newscom; Karen Focht/ZUMA Press/Newscom; Sarah A. Miller/TNS/Newscom; facebook/realammonbundy; Benjamin Hanson/Middle East Images/StringersHub/Sipa USA/Newscom; Charles Reed/ZUMA Press/Newscom; Carol Guzy/ZUMAPRESS/Newscom; Dave Decker/ZUMAPRESS/Newscom; EyePress/Newscom; Roberto E. Rosales/ZUMAPRESS/Newscom; Carol Guzy/TNS/Newscom; Allison Dinner/ZUMAPRESS/Newscom; National Archives; Library of Congress; Elijah Scott/SiPA USA/Elijah Scott/Sipa USA/Newscom; Jen Golbeck/ZUMAPRESS/Newscom; Lela Edgar/ZUMAPRESS/Newscom; CNP/AdMedia/SIPA/Newscom; Chris Kleponis - CNP/CNP / Polaris/Newscom; Wayne Gooden/Image of Sport/Newscom

Music Credits: "The Tomorrow War" by Or Chausha via Artlist; "Under Pressure" by Michael Kobrin via Artlist; "Beyond the Stories" by Ian Post via Artlist; "Long Road" by Oakfield via Artlist; "Railroad" by Max H. via Artlist; "Hidden Answers" by FableForte via Artlist; "Foreboding" by Kyle Preston via Artlist; "Whodunit" by FableForte via Artlist; "No Decides" by Or Chausha via Artlist; "Witness" by Oliver Michael via Artlist; "It Comes at Night" by Adam Dib via Artlist; "Dusty Roads" by FableForte via Artlist; "Lullaby" by Assaf Ayalon via Artlist; "Unsettled" by Matt Evans via Artlist; "Uneasy Atmosphere" by Matt Evans via Artlist; "Reset" by sero via Artlist; "Dream Life" by DJ Taz Rashid via Artlist; "Can't Lose You" by The Likes of Us via Artlist; "From the Ground Up" by Earth Tone via Artlist; "Pianissimo" by Adrián Berenguer via Artlist; "Washed Away" by Mark Grundhoefer

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