A courtroom in Washington turned tense as a federal judge publicly scolded lawyers from Donald Trump’s administration, accusing them of crossing a line in their defense of a controversial mass deportation. At the heart of it: a centuries-old law, a group of alleged gang members, and a legal standoff that’s beginning to look like a constitutional powder keg.
Judge James Boasberg didn’t hold back during Friday’s hearing. He called the government’s legal tone “intemperate and disrespectful,” raising eyebrows and tempers alike. Without naming the exact language that riled him, he made clear he wasn’t fond of being accused—via court filing—of going on a “judicial fishing expedition” for daring to demand accountability over deportation flights.
The core issue? The administration’s use of the 1798 Alien Enemies Act—a law once used to justify the internment of Japanese Americans during WWII—to quickly deport 238 alleged Venezuelan gang members without formal immigration proceedings. The flights landed in El Salvador, some after Boasberg had already issued a temporary block on such deportations.
The judge now wants an explanation—by Tuesday—as to why he shouldn’t rule that the administration violated his March 15 order. He didn’t mince words about the stakes, pointing to the administration’s potentially reckless path and reminding the courtroom that integrity, not political fervor, should guide legal arguments.
The administration argues it was within its rights. Trump, for his part, stood firm before reporters, claiming the deportees had been vetted and that his team was simply removing “bad people” from the country.
But cracks in the story are emerging. Human rights lawyers say some of the deportees had no ties to the gang in question—Tren de Aragua—while others weren’t even Venezuelan. El Salvador, meanwhile, reportedly refused entry to individuals who didn’t match the administration’s profile, sending some back to U.S. soil.
Boasberg criticized the government’s sweeping application of the 1798 statute, suggesting it lacks the transparency or due process protections expected in modern-day America. He floated the possibility of modifying his deportation block—allowing removal only if someone openly admits to being in the gang—but has not yet made a final call.
Civil rights attorneys are sounding the alarm. “Every nationality has gangs,” one argued, warning that this path could lead to targeting based purely on birthplace and suspicion. Suggestions were made for a review board, a nod to wartime protocols that once sought to balance national security with individual rights.
For now, the judge’s freeze remains in place for another week. But behind the courtroom drama is a larger question: Can a law from the 1700s dictate immigration policy in 2025? Or is this the moment America’s legal system redraws the line between power and overreach?
