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Page B31From§Each · the Justice & Legal book29 September 2026

Justice & Legal

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News outlets ask court for a press-access order the White House won't need reminding about.

I like this motion. I have read it twice — once fast, once slow — and it is a well-made piece of paper. Three news organizations, CNN, MS NOW and Politico, are not asking for anything fancy. They are asking for an order that does not need repeating. That is the entire ask, as far as I can tell. Somebody worked hard to make it sound that simple.

Here is the number that goes with it, and it is not much of a number, which is what makes it worth writing down: this is the second time in five days these same three newsrooms have needed a federal court to tell the White House the same thing.

I wrote the rest of it down in order, because that is the only way I know to keep a thing like this straight.

September 19th — I have the clipping somewhere in this stack, give me a second — the President announces he is banning Politico, CNN and MS NOW from the White House grounds. Not from covering him from a sidewalk. From the building itself. That same week, the White House Correspondents' Association's president, Jacqui Heinrich, calls for access to be restored "immediately." That is the word in the release. I did not put it there.

The same morning, a judge orders it fixed, in the word "immediately." Hours later, it gets fixed. I do not have the exact hour count in front of me — that is written down in a different column, a different day — but it was hours, not minutes.

September 25th — five other networks, the ones the ban never touched, rejoin the White House pool after the standoff. I do not know what to make of that beyond reporting it: five networks decided the pool was worth rejoining the same week three of their colleagues were still fighting to get back into the room at all.

And today, the three banned outlets are back in front of a judge. Not asking for their passes — they already have those back, for now. Asking for an order that does not need a second order standing behind it. NPR carries the filing; so does the New York Times. Both say the same thing in slightly different words: the outlets want the pause to hold while the case is still open, the same case that produced the order five days ago.

I have a car in the garage that does something like this. The check-engine light comes on, I bring it to the guy, he clears it, and inside of two weeks it is back on, same light, and I bring it in again, and he clears it again, and every time he tells me it is fixed, and every time I believe him for about a week. The dog does not lift his head anymore when the car comes back from the shop. I am not saying the White House is my car. I am saying I know what it looks like when the same problem gets cleared and comes back, and somebody has to decide how many times "fixed" gets to mean fixed.

Oh — one more thing, before you go. I almost did not bring this up, because I do not like ending on a question I cannot point to something written down for. But it is right there in the filing from today: they are not asking to get back in. They are already back in. They are asking for an order that does not need repeating. So here is the one I keep landing on, and I will not ask it twice — how many times does a federal court have to tell the same White House the same thing, before the White House stops needing to be told?

The receipts (3)

Administration fights court to save its mail-ballot rule, kills the women's sports rule without one.

The Title IX rule requiring colleges and high schools to provide equal athletic opportunity for women and girls, born in the Biden-era Department of Education, died this week, scrapped by the department under Secretary Linda McMahon.

The trucking rule went quietly. The mail-in voting order has not gone quietly. It has been blocked twice now by the same federal judge, Indira Talwani of Massachusetts, and each time the Justice Department has appealed rather than let the block stand — the second appeal filed the same Friday the trucking rule died without a fight.

The Title IX rule leaves behind a ruling that touches the same office, if not the same regulation. On September 18, a federal judge struck down the department's attempt to cut roughly $600 million from teacher-training grants it had labeled devoted to "divisive ideologies." That case does not save Title IX. It does tell you the habit this department has already formed: write the policy, lose it in court, write the next one anyway, and only fight for the ones that survive to be sued.

Secretary McMahon's release promised the department would "relentlessly champion equal opportunity for all Americans and hold accountable any school or college" that violates it. That is a fine sentence. It is not, itself, a rule with a docket number, a compliance deadline, or a complaint process — the malarkey a parent gets when they call the regional office and ask what standard applies now that the old one is gone.

In lieu of flowers, the department is asked to publish, before the first fall tournament brackets are set, what standard now governs what a school owes its women's teams — not a press release, a rule, with a number the next judge can read.

The receipts (4)

THE COUNT

Senate Republicans call Jack Smith's evidence-based prosecution abuse, demand the same standard for Hunter Biden and Trump Jr.

I wonder if somebody on the Senate Judiciary Committee could do me a favor. I'm not a lawyer. I never got past two years of night school, and there's a word in the title of Tuesday's hearing I can't get to sit right in my head. The committee wrote the title, so the committee's the expert on it, not me. Maybe somebody over there could walk me through it, because I've read it three times now and I keep landing in the same place.

I wrote it down. Just a second — ah, here it is, word for word. The hearing Jack Smith sat for on Tuesday was titled "Oversight of Jack Smith's Abuse of Authority and the Targeting of Republicans and Related Matters." That's the actual title. Not my paraphrase.

In his opening statement, Smith told the committee it was the evidence tied to Trump's own actions that made him bring the charges. Not a hunch. The evidence. That's what he said, under oath, in a hearing the committee had already titled "Abuse of Authority" before he ever sat down.

Back in November of 2024, a federal judge named Tanya Chutkan dismissed both of Smith's cases — the documents case, and the one over the 2020 election — a few weeks after Trump won that November's election. Dismissed. The committee held Tuesday's hearing anyway, almost two years later, to ask the man who built those cases what he thought he was doing.

I wrote something else down, from a week before the hearing, the twenty-second of September. A senator on that same committee asked for subpoenas — one for Donald Trump Jr., one for Hunter Biden — over a wedding party a Russian oligarch reportedly paid for. The senator wants to know whether either man cashed in on being close to the White House. That's an evidence question. It's the same kind of question Smith says he was answering when he brought the Trump charges in the first place.

Down at the corner store, the guy behind the register keeps a running tab for the families he's known twenty years. A stranger walks in wanting the same tab, he cards them, rings it up twice, asks for cash on the counter first. I've stood there with the dog on the leash waiting on a biscuit and watched him do exactly that to two different people ten minutes apart. I'm not accusing him of anything — everybody needs a system. I'm asking whether a committee that says it runs on evidence keeps the same kind of book he does, one for the names it already likes and another for everybody else.

Does the word "abuse" mean something different when the evidence points at a Trump than when it points at a Trump Jr. or a Hunter Biden? Is a subpoena over a wedding party the kind of thing the hearing title says it's worried about, or is that oversight? A judge already dismissed the cases the committee spent Tuesday re-litigating — so what is left in them that a court hasn't already closed?

Oh — hold on, before you go. One more thing, since I've still got the committee's own words right here in the notebook. There's a word in that title I haven't been able to shake since Tuesday. Is that the right word for what happened to Smith's two cases? Or is it the right word for what the committee's own member is now asking the Justice Department to do to Trump Jr. and Hunter Biden? Because holding somebody to the evidence only has the one name, near as I can tell, and the committee already printed it on the door: targeting.

The receipts (6)

Trump priced Congress at $5,000 an adult; twenty days later his party counts his controversies among its headaches

The $5,000 pledge died this week at twenty days old. It is survived by 750,000 Americans who no longer have health coverage, and by five weeks of campaign.

It was born on the ninth of September in Dallas, on the first night of the Republican National Committee's midterm convention, when the president said every American adult would receive $5,000 if Republicans keep both chambers of Congress. Trump dividends, they were called. Announced from a convention stage, which is the best a promise usually does.

It was one day old when Bret Baier pressed the vice president about it on Fox News. Twenty-four hours, and the friendliest room in television wanted to know the mechanism. The governor of Illinois had already supplied his own word for that arrangement, which was bootlicker, and I will leave it where he put it.

At three days The Hill asked the plain question, whether a president can legally promise adults money for an election result. What came back on the fifteenth was not an answer. The Treasury secretary said the department was examining its ability to cut the checks without Congress. Examining. That same week the same secretary was defending a faltering intervention in the bond market. A department still examining whether it needs the legislature is not a department with $5,000 an adult sitting in a drawer.

At two weeks the Times was writing about the big bill and affordability in the midterms, which is the genteel way of saying the arithmetic reached the voters first. In the same stretch CBS reported Americans leaning on multiple forms of credit to cover their expenses, and 750,000 people lost their health coverage. Twenty days is not long to live, and that is the shit of it: the thing was drawn up to be repeated, not paid.

Today The Hill counts five weeks to Election Day and reports the president's propensity for generating controversy undimmed, to the chagrin of some in his own party. Poll after poll has his approval low, with voters naming the cost of living, the economy and the war on Iran. The $5,000 is not on that list. That is the death certificate.

Preceded in death by the confidence of some in his own party, who now discuss the president's output as a headache rather than a platform. Also surviving: the legal question, still open, and the examination, still examining. No malarkey about heaven. Policies do not go there.

In lieu of flowers, ask the candidate on your ballot for two dates in writing — the date of the vote that puts $5,000 in your hand, and the date of the vote that puts 750,000 people back on their coverage.

The receipts (82)

Supreme Court threw out the tariffs' emergency statute; the same tariffs go back this week under another law.

That is how a policy ends when the administration holds the pen: a notice, a filing, a Friday.

The mail-in voting order is the other kind. A federal judge in Massachusetts, Indira Talwani, blocked it, then blocked it a second time, and the Trump administration appealed rather than let the block stand — the second appeal landing the same week the trucking rule went. On September 10 the First Circuit denied that appeal and left the block standing, finding the order likely unlawful: the Constitution's elections clause leaves the running of elections to the states, subject to Congress. The Supreme Court now has the case. Two federal courts, one order, one question — how your ballot gets counted before a midterm.

Then the pen again. On September 18 a federal judge struck down the Education Department's anti-DEI policy for teacher grants. Ten days later the same department, under Secretary Linda McMahon, scrapped the Biden-era Title IX rule requiring colleges and high schools to provide equal athletic opportunity for women and girls. One office, two directions, ten days. What a judge could reach got reached.

Which brings us to this week, and the tariffs. The Supreme Court has already ruled that the president cannot invoke an emergency statute to impose his global trade war. So the tariffs head back to court — the third round this year — with the president pointing to a different law, one everyone agrees does let a president impose tariffs. The challengers' phrase for the exercise is "rinse and repeat." The hope on the other side, stated plainly in the wire, is that the third time will be the charm.

Here is the con, and it is not complicated. A court ruling is being handled as a routing problem. Lose on the emergency statute, refile under a trade statute. Lose on the elections clause, appeal, then appeal again, then wait for the high court. Nothing gets dropped; the name on the authority changes and the same policy walks back through the door.

And the calendar does the work the argument couldn't. Every lap buys months, and months are the whole prize. An order restricting mail ballots only has to be alive through the midterms to have done its job. A tariff only has to be in force while the briefs are being written. Two courts have now told this administration, on two separate policies, that it cannot do the thing. Neither answer was that it would stop. Both answers were the same move under a different name. Somebody should be counting the laps, because the count is the story.

The receipts (3)

Pentagon can't count its breach or its wounded, but cut a fifth of its generals anyway.

It had been ailing a while. CBS News reported the Pentagon took months to discover that a breach had exposed information on nearly 3 million people — the discovery itself late, the count of the damage later still. It has been nearly five months since Secretary Pete Hegseth and General Dan Caine stood at a podium and said how the Iran war is going for the more than 440 U.S. service members hurt in it since March, the same span in which, Common Dreams reported, the department quietly extended Middle East deployments into 2027 without saying so out loud.

The corps meant to carry that accounting has not stayed still either. On September 1, Army Secretary Dan Driscoll resigned, the latest in what the Washington Examiner called a long line of senior leaders pushed out under Hegseth. The next day, Sen. Thom Tillis urged the president to fire Hegseth over what he called "inept management." The day after that, Hegseth's own allies told the Examiner that he and Driscoll had never been aligned on what they termed the "radical transformation" of the department's culture. On September 22, Hegseth announced a new "battlefield test" for promotion to general, pitched on social media as cutting bureaucracy and demanding "true meritocracy."

This week the meritocracy got smaller. Hegseth will use Wednesday's State of the Force address to announce a 20 percent reduction in the leadership positions allotted to generals and admirals, some downgraded rather than eliminated, the services given until the start of 2027 to finish the job. The same week, he ordered a freeze on hiring civilian faculty to tenured positions at the service academies, the schools that train the next generation of officers, directing that future hiring prioritize "institutional flexibility and faculty contribution to the warfighting mission" over the tenure that used to protect a professor's judgment from a general's chain of command.

Bunk, all of it dressed as reform. The department can't say how many people a breach touched or how many soldiers a war has cost it, but it has found the staff to cut and the classroom to close.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks for one briefing, on the record, with a number in it.

The receipts (6)

Pentagon that cut a fifth of its generals can't count its own F-35 parts either

The file on institutional accountability got three new pages this week, and none of them answer the first question anyone asked back in the spring.

The Pentagon has already confirmed it took months to discover a data breach that had exposed records on nearly 3 million people, the discovery late and the damage counted later still. Nearly five months have now passed since Secretary Pete Hegseth and General Dan Caine last stood at a podium and said how the Iran war is going for the more than 440 service members hurt in it since March. The corps built to answer either question is a fifth smaller this month, thinned under a new promotion test, while the department has frozen hiring for the civilian faculty who train whoever remains.

CBS News reported that F-35 fighter jet parts — shipped somewhere, tracked by no one who has said where — turned up in China's hands, the report surfacing the same week President Trump sat across from China's Xi Jinping. The department has not said how many parts are unaccounted for, or how many other programs run the same route.

It had been warned, twice, in writing. On September 3, Undersecretary of War Emil Michael posted, over his own name, that the artificial intelligence firm Anthropic remains a designated "Supply Chain Risk" to the department and the defense industrial base, a federal court's ruling notwithstanding. On September 14, the Department of Energy put money behind the same worry, offering $16 million for mining education programs meant, the agency said, to end China's control of the mineral supply chain. The department left the connection to its own fighter jet unspoken.

On Tuesday, Senator Tom Cotton, who chairs the Senate Intelligence Committee, pressed Hegseth to review the military's supply chains. The request came after the parts had already made the trip. A review is not an inventory, and the department has not said which one it owes first — the parts, or the count.

The arithmetic isn't hard, even where the malarkey around it is thick: an institution that took months to notice a breach, five months to update on its wounded, and cut a fifth of its own generals' corps, now finds its own hardware inside a rival country and calls that an occasion for a memo.

In lieu of flowers, the department is asked to publish one number: how many F-35 parts are missing, and where the rest of them are.

The receipts (4)

Pentagon cuts a fifth of its generals the same week it ends tenure for civilian professors

Tenure for civilian faculty at the United States military academies died this week, by memo, after Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth announced the Pentagon will no longer appoint civilians to permanent teaching posts at West Point, Annapolis and the Air Force Academy. It was one of the older habits in the building: a professor who teaches cadets did not used to lose the job over what they published.

The department that ended it has spent the year losing count of things. It took months to discover a breach of records on nearly 3 million people. It has gone nearly five months without a briefing on the more than 440 service members hurt in the Iran war. Two warnings this month told it that F-35 parts had turned up in China; the department still cannot say how they got there.

The personnel losses started well before this. Army Secretary Dan Driscoll resigned Monday, Aug. 31, after clashing repeatedly with Hegseth's office. Two days later, Sen. Thom Tillis called on the president to fire Hegseth over what he called "inept management." On Sept. 5, reports surfaced that the Pentagon had put some of its highest-ranking officials, including roughly 50 members of the Joint Staff, through polygraph tests in August, hunting for whoever leaked word of dwindling weapons stockpiles. On Sept. 15, Rep. Thomas Massie filed articles of impeachment against Hegseth over the Iran strikes. On Sept. 22, the department rolled out a new "battlefield test" for promotion to general, billed, like most things this year, as a cut to bureaucracy.

This week the bureaucracy cut itself: a 20 percent reduction in generals and admirals, with officials telling reporters they do not yet know how the cuts will be carried out or whether trimming a fifth of the flag officers, in the middle of a war, will disrupt day-to-day operations. Nobody in the building could say which duties go with them. That was Wednesday. The same week, the department decided the civilians teaching the next fifth would not get tenure either. Call it penny-ante bookkeeping if the stakes were smaller.

Survived by: three service academies, several thousand cadets, and a Senate Armed Services Committee. Preceded in death by an Army secretary who quit rather than watch, and by the plain sentence "here is how," last heard in this building some time before spring.

In lieu of flowers, the department might answer, in writing, one of the two questions it was asked this month about its own missing jet parts, before it cuts the next fifth of anyone.

The receipts (10)

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