The Rule of Law’s Last Stand

As of November 2024, we stand at an unprecedented juncture in American history. Donald Trump has won reelection, reclaiming the Oval Office while simultaneously shaking off most of the legal threats against him. Federal prosecutions that seemed poised to bring accountability are being shuttered, as Trump makes liberal use of his renewed power. Yet, amidst the closing doors of justice, a flicker of hope remains in state-level cases—a flicker that could represent the rule of law’s last stand.

Trump’s victory does more than ensure four more years of contentious politics; it underscores a profound risk to our institutions. As president-elect, Trump has already moved to dismiss the federal charges against him—the classified documents case in Florida and the January 6 charges in D.C.—effectively wielding presidential power to escape accountability. This misuse of executive power sends a chilling message: that the president of the United States can operate above the law, immune from prosecution for his crimes, if only he has the votes to return to office.

And yet, there are limits to presidential immunity—limits which may yet prove meaningful. While Trump can squash federal cases, state-level prosecutions remain outside his reach. His reelection does not grant him the authority to dismantle state court processes, nor can he pardon himself under state law. In Georgia, the prosecution faces a complex web of appeals, but in New York, the legal machinery is ready to move forward.

The case in New York—involving 34 felony counts related to falsifying business records—has emerged as a potential pivot point for justice. Judge Juan Merchan paused sentencing before the election, perhaps concerned about influencing the outcome. But the election is over, and the people have spoken. Now, justice must speak too. The next step is for the judge to impose a sentence—even if Trump’s lawyers plead that governing responsibilities should shield their client from accountability.

There is no constitutional principle that places the president-elect beyond the reach of the law. If Trump’s attorneys succeed in arguing that he should not be sentenced due to his election win, they would, in effect, establish that a presidential candidate’s criminal actions can be expunged by popular vote. This is a blatant affront to the very notion of equal justice under law. Winning an election is not equivalent to being absolved by a jury of one’s peers. The American people might have deemed Trump’s actions forgivable in a political sense—but a jury found his conduct unlawful. These truths can, and must, coexist.

Sentencing Donald Trump is not just about the specifics of his crimes—it is about reaffirming a foundational principle: No one is above the law. Judge Merchan’s decision will be consequential, not only for Trump, but for the future of American democracy itself. It’s an opportunity to show that political power cannot be wielded to erase accountability, that our system of checks and balances still has teeth.

In a time when much of the legal recourse against Trump is being swept away by his newfound authority, the New York case represents the last stand for the rule of law. It’s a reminder that even when a president returns to power, they remain subject to the same legal structures as the rest of us. Justice must be blind to titles, to power, and to political gamesmanship—and now, more than ever, it must be rendered.