Trump’s ‘slush fund’ scandal has an easy solution: impeachment
Ask Jordan: Does Trump’s ‘slush fund scam’ stop a future DOJ from pursuing him?
“Deadline: White House” legal analyst Jordan Rubin answers your questions about the Supreme Court, Trump administration lawsuits and other issues.
“Donald Trump’s slush fund scam seems to also give him, his family and his businesses immunity from any investigation or prosecution. Does this prevent future DOJs from looking into their scams?” — DMS
Hi DMS,
It purports to do that, but this is yet another untested question that only the future can answer.
In the meantime, let’s take a step back and analyze what we know about the “scam,” as you aptly put it.
On Monday, the Justice Department announced the $1.776 billion “Anti-Weaponization Fund,” which it established as part of a “settlement” in the case of Trump v. IRS. I put “settlement” in quotes because traditionally a settlement is when two parties in our adversarial legal system agree to resolve a case with a deal that benefits each side to the greatest extent possible.
But Trump was on both sides of this one. It was a fake deal, though it carries very real consequences.
Back in January, alongside his sons Eric and Don Jr. and the Trump Organization, the president sued the IRS and the Treasury for “at least” $10 billion over the leak of their tax returns during his first term.
The judge who presided over the case in Florida, Obama appointee Kathleen Williams, observed last month that “although President Trump avers that he is bringing this lawsuit in his personal capacity, he is the sitting president and his named adversaries are entities whose decisions are subject to his direction.” She said it was unclear whether the parties were “sufficiently adverse to each other” such that it was a real case that belonged in court.
But just as she started to probe the case’s fakeness, the Trump plaintiffs moved to dismiss their case. The judge obliged, apparently reluctantly concluding that, however shady the enterprise unfolding before her, she no longer had any role to play or power to wield.
The independent judge therefore had no oversight in the sham “settlement” that occurred between the two parties who were really one party (Trump). The resulting “settlement agreement” between the Trump plaintiffs and the Trump-controlled government said the “Anti-Weaponization Fund” was created to “provide a systematic process to hear and redress claims of others who, like Plaintiffs, state that they incurred harm from similar Lawfare and Weaponization.” As for the president, his sons and company, the agreement says they “will receive a formal apology from the United States, but will not receive any monetary payment or damages of any kind.”
Yet the fund is poised to take care of the extended family, so to speak. Pro-Trump Jan. 6 rioters and other allies of the president are lining up for taxpayer-funded paydays from the pot of money that will be doled out by a panel appointed by acting Attorney General Todd Blanche, Trump’s criminal defense lawyer whom the president brought along to Washington to spearhead the legal apparatus of his revenge-themed second term.
But Trump, his family and his businesses are receiving much more than an apology. And this gets to the “immunity” that you refer to in your question.
As if the settlement and resulting fund announced Monday weren’t corrupt enough, a separate document that emerged Tuesday, signed by Blanche, claims to grant legal immunity to the Trump plaintiffs and any “related or affiliated individuals” arising from “Lawfare and/or Weaponization” and “any matters currently pending or that could be pending (including tax returns filed before the Effective Date [of the settlement]) before Defendants or other agencies or departments.”
The terms are as broad as they are brazen. One tax law expert said the move “purports to put the president, his entities, and his family above the tax laws.” The New York Times reported that it “frees the president from a potential adverse ruling that could have cost him more than $100 million.”
Given that no one in the Trump-controlled government would be likely to take any adverse action against the president’s interests, the question of how future administrations will act becomes more important. The easiest way to answer that question is for a future administration to treat this whole thing like the sham that it is and force Trump and company to prove otherwise in court.
But that’s doubly uncertain, both in terms of when that would happen if it does, and what would happen if it did.
That raises more immediate questions of what can be done now. With the executive branch acting as a subsidiary of the Trump Organization, that trains our attention on the legislative and judicial branches. The former has largely been in Trump’s pocket too, though even some Republicans have spoken out against the sham fund. Still, barring (or on top of) any legislative action moving forward, that leaves us in the familiar territory of looking toward the judicial branch, which has been the bulwark against some of the administration’s excesses.
On that note, a lawsuit was already filed this week against the fund, by two police officers (one former, one current) who defended the Capitol on Jan. 6. They’re seeking to invalidate what their complaint called “the most brazen act of presidential corruption this century.” They allege that Trump created the “taxpayer-funded slush fund to finance the insurrectionists and paramilitary groups that commit violence in his name.” Their suit doesn’t directly challenge the separate Trump family immunity waiver. It’s focused on the fund itself, but if the suit succeeds, then that could call into question the immunity waiver as well.
We’re getting a bit ahead of things, because the case was just filed and it’s an open question whether the officers have legal standing to bring it. Importantly, that standing question must be answered before getting to the potent merits of their claim against the fund’s legality. “No statute authorizes its creation, the settlement on which it is premised is a corrupt sham, and its design violates the Constitution and federal law,” the officers alleged in their complaint, filed in Washington’s federal district court.
Yet if the court finds they don’t have standing to sue, then the merits of the suit won’t be addressed, because cases can be dismissed on standing grounds alone. The Trump government will have a chance to respond in court before a judge rules. If the government loses in the lower courts, it has the Supreme Court on “speed dial,” as Justice Sonia Sotomayor put it in a dissent last year.
All this leaves us in an unsatisfying place, with no clear path to address a clearly corrupt series of maneuvers. In a term already rife with Trump using the White House to enrich himself, this latest chapter of self-dealing to the president’s allies and himself and his family is unfolding in plain sight, all stemming from a sham settlement from a sham lawsuit. But it’s our real money.
As for the tax waiver that’s focused on the president and his family and businesses, it attempts to confer an immunity on top of the broad protection from criminal prosecution that the Supreme Court granted him in Trump v. United States.
But while the court’s GOP-appointed majority gave former presidents sweeping (though not unlimited) immunity for crimes they may have committed while in office, Tuesday’s corrupt addendum seeks to manufacture an extra layer of protection for any civil or criminal liability stemming from entirely personal financial wrongdoing that would not be shielded by the high court’s criminal immunity ruling, which was focused on official presidential acts. And it seeks to manufacture that protection not only for the president himself but also for anyone connected to him. Putting aside the settlement, the fund and whatever consequences come of any of this, Blanche’s signature on that addendum document marks one of the most corrupt presidential acts in modern memory.
One reason that we wind up parsing these unprecedented and uncertain legal questions is that the executive and legislative branches fail to do their jobs, which puts undue pressure on the courts. That is, this latest three-act corruption play — the settlement, the fund and the family immunity waiver, all set in motion by a shady lawsuit — warrants at least contemplation of impeachment for the president and any other officials involved in this abuse of power.
But we have no reason to think that this GOP-controlled House is going to start impeachment proceedings against Trump or any of his allies. I have wondered if this episode makes Blanche less confirmable for the full-time attorney general job if Trump were thinking of nominating him, which would be ironic if the acting AG performed this corrupt task in the hopes of securing that position. But it’s hard to bet on even a modest consequence like that.
Of course, this corrupt chapter comes as Trump has pushed to keep the Congress in the GOP’s control ahead of the November midterms, one of the benefits to him keeping the status quo being that he can ride out the rest of his term freer of any impeachment concerns.
That emphasizes the importance of voters’ power at the ballot box in November — to the extent that the redistricting battle backed by Trump and the Supreme Court’s GOP-appointed majority lets the American people choose their own representatives, rather than the other way around.
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The Boy Who Walked Into the Wedding. The Girl Who Stood Up for the Truth.
At first, everyone thought the boy was there to steal something.
He appeared at the entrance of the grand wedding hall like a shadow that had wandered into the wrong dream.
The ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers, golden curtains, towers of white roses, and guests dressed in silk, satin, and diamonds. Waiters moved between tables carrying trays of champagne. A pianist played softly near the marble dance floor. Everything looked perfect.
And then he walked in.
A skinny teenage boy in dirty white sneakers, an oversized black jacket, and a gray hoodie stained with dust.
The laughter faded.
Heads turned.
Someone whispered, “Is he homeless?”
Another voice muttered, “Security.”
The boy ignored them all.
His dark hair fell over his forehead. His face was pale, smudged with dirt, but his eyes were strangely calm. He walked through the crowd as if he already knew exactly where he belonged.
And then he stopped.
Not in front of the bride.
Not in front of the groom.
But in front of the girl in the wheelchair.
Her name was Clara.
She was sixteen, dressed in a pale-blue gown that shimmered under the chandeliers. Her long brown hair was pinned back with a pearl clip, but her hands were folded tightly in her lap, as if she were trying to disappear.
All evening, people had smiled at her with pity.
They told her she looked beautiful.
They told her she was brave.
But no one asked her to dance.
The boy looked at her and said, “I’ll dance with you.”
The room went silent.
Clara’s eyes widened.
Her mother, standing near the head table, gasped. The groom frowned. The bride placed a hand over her mouth.
Clara looked down at her useless legs.
“I can’t dance,” she whispered.
The boy did not move.
“I can’t walk.”
A painful stillness spread across the ballroom.
The boy slowly held out his hand.
Then he said the words that made every guest stop breathing.
“I’ll make you walk.”
Someone laughed nervously.
Someone else said, “That’s cruel.”
A security guard stepped forward, but Clara raised one trembling hand.
“Wait,” she said.
Her voice was barely audible, but everyone heard it.
The boy crouched in front of her.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Eli.”
“Do you know me?”
His jaw tightened.
“I know enough.”
Clara frowned.
Something about his voice made her heart beat faster. It was not the voice of a stranger. It carried pain. It carried memory.
Her mother rushed toward them.
“Clara, don’t listen to him. He’s confused.”
Eli turned his head slowly.
“No,” he said. “I’m the only one here who isn’t.”
A murmur rippled through the guests.
Clara’s father, Richard Vale, stood from the front table. He was the owner of half the hotels in the city, a man whose smile appeared on charity posters and business magazines.
His voice was cold.
“Remove him.”
Two guards moved in.
Eli didn’t resist. He simply reached into his jacket and pulled out a small silver key.
The moment Clara saw it, her breath caught.
It was shaped like a tiny bird.
Her pendant.
The one she had lost on the night of the accident.
The night everything changed.
Clara’s voice shook.
“Where did you get that?”
Eli looked at her.
“You gave it to me.”
The ballroom erupted in whispers.
Clara’s mind flashed backward.
Rain on glass.
Headlights.
Her father yelling.
A boy screaming her name.
Then darkness.
For three years, Clara had believed the accident was her fault.
She had been told she ran into the road.
She had been told a strange boy tried to help her.
She had been told he disappeared.
But Eli was standing in front of her now.
Alive.
Broken.
Forgotten.
Her father’s face had gone pale.
“Clara,” he said carefully, “this boy is lying.”
Eli stood.
“No. You lied.”
The bride whispered, “What is happening?”
Eli pointed at Richard.
“That night, Clara didn’t run into the road. You did. You were drunk. You hit us both.”
A shocked gasp tore through the ballroom.
Clara’s mother covered her mouth.
Richard’s expression hardened.
“That is insane.”
Eli’s voice cracked, but he kept going.
“You paid people to erase everything. You told the hospital I was a runaway. You told Clara I was nobody.”
Clara stared at her father.
“Dad?”
Richard stepped toward her.
“Sweetheart, don’t let him upset you.”
But Clara was no longer looking at him.
She was looking at Eli.
At the scar near his eyebrow.
At the way his hand trembled.
At the silver bird key in his palm.
A memory struck her so hard she nearly cried out.
She remembered holding that same hand.
She remembered a boy pushing her away from headlights.
She remembered him whispering, “Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.”
Clara’s tears spilled over.
“You saved me.”
Eli swallowed.
“I tried.”
The room fell into a stunned silence.
Then Richard said, “Enough.”
He grabbed Clara’s wheelchair handles.
But Eli moved faster.
“Don’t touch her.”
Richard’s mask cracked.
“You filthy little street rat.”
The words echoed.
Every guest heard them.
Phones rose.
Cameras recorded.
Richard realized too late what he had done.
Clara’s hands tightened on the wheels of her chair.
For the first time in three years, she looked at her father not with dependence, but with horror.
“You knew him,” she whispered. “You knew who he was.”
Richard said nothing.
Eli stepped closer to Clara.
“Your legs were injured, yes. But not destroyed.”
Clara froze.
“What?”
Eli looked toward her mother.
“The doctors said she might walk again with treatment. But he stopped it.”
Clara’s mother began to sob.
Richard shouted, “Shut up!”
But it was too late.
Eli pulled a folded envelope from his jacket.
“I found the medical report. The real one.”
Clara’s mother stumbled backward.
Richard lunged for the envelope, but the groom stepped between them.
“Don’t,” he said.
Eli handed the envelope to Clara.
Her fingers trembled as she opened it.
The words blurred through tears.
Partial spinal trauma. High recovery potential. Intensive therapy recommended.
Clara’s lips parted.
High recovery potential.
Not impossible.
Not hopeless.
Her whole world tilted.
For three years, her father had told her walking again would never happen.
For three years, he had kept her weak, dependent, silent.
Why?
Then she looked across the room at the wedding decorations. At the cameras. At the reporters invited to capture Richard Vale’s “charity wedding donation” announcement later that night.
And she understood.
Her wheelchair had made him look noble.
Her suffering had become his brand.
Her pain had sold his kindness to the world.
Clara let out a broken sound.
“You used me.”
Richard’s face twisted.
“I protected you.”
“No,” she whispered. “You buried me alive.”
Eli knelt again.
His voice softened.
“Clara, I don’t know if you can walk far. I don’t know if it will hurt. But I know this.”
He held out his hand.
“You were never as broken as he made you believe.”
Every eye in the ballroom fixed on Clara.
Her heart pounded.
Her body shook.
Fear screamed inside her.
What if she fell?
What if Eli was wrong?
What if everyone watched her fail?
Then she looked at her father.
And suddenly, falling didn’t scare her as much as staying seated forever.
She placed her hand in Eli’s.
A gasp spread through the room.
“Clara, don’t,” Richard warned.
She ignored him.
Eli gently placed one arm around her shoulders.
“On three,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes.
“One.”
Her fingers dug into his sleeve.
“Two.”
The wheelchair creaked beneath her.
“Three.”
Clara pushed down with everything she had.
Pain shot through her legs.
Her knees buckled.
The crowd gasped.
Eli held her tighter.
“Look at me,” he said.
“I’m scared,” she cried.
“I know.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
Her legs trembled violently. Sweat gathered at her temples. Her breath came in sharp, broken bursts.
Then, slowly—
impossibly—
Clara stood.
For one second, no one moved.
No one spoke.
The entire ballroom seemed frozen inside that single miracle.
Then Clara took one tiny step.
Her mother screamed.
Not in fear.
In joy.
The guests erupted. Some cried. Some clapped. Some simply stared as if they had witnessed the world split open.
Clara collapsed into Eli’s arms, sobbing.
“I walked,” she whispered.
Eli’s eyes filled with tears.
“You did.”
Richard turned to leave.
But the doors opened.
Two police officers stepped in.
Behind them stood an older woman in a nurse’s uniform.
Clara recognized her immediately.
Nurse Helen.
The woman who had disappeared from the hospital after Clara’s accident.
Helen pointed at Richard.
“That’s him,” she said. “He paid me to switch the records.”
Richard’s face drained of color.
The officers moved toward him.
“This is absurd!” he shouted. “Do you know who I am?”
Eli answered quietly.
“A man who thought money could erase the truth.”
Richard was handcuffed in front of everyone.
The cameras captured it all.
The perfect wedding had become a public trial.
But the twist was not finished.
As Richard was dragged away, he suddenly laughed.
Cold.
Ugly.
Desperate.
“You think he came back for justice?” he spat at Clara. “Ask him why he really came.”
Clara turned to Eli.
Eli went still.
Richard smiled like a dying snake.
“Tell her, boy.”
The room grew quiet again.
Clara’s voice trembled.
“Eli?”
He looked down.
For the first time all night, he looked afraid.
“I didn’t just come because of the accident.”
Clara’s heart sank.
“What does that mean?”
Eli reached into his jacket one final time.
This time, he pulled out a faded hospital bracelet.
Clara stared at it.
Her name was on it.
But beside it was another name.
Twin: Male.
Clara stopped breathing.
Her mother let out a strangled cry.
“No,” Clara whispered.
Eli’s eyes shone with tears.
“I was in the car too,” he said. “Not as a stranger.”
Clara’s world went silent.
Eli’s voice broke.
“I was your brother.”
The ballroom disappeared.
The guests vanished.
There was only Eli, holding the bracelet between them.
Her twin brother.
The boy she had forgotten.
The boy her father had abandoned because two injured children would ruin the story.
One disabled daughter made Richard look tragic and heroic.
A homeless son proved he was a monster.
Clara covered her mouth.
Memories returned like lightning.
A little boy laughing beside her.
Two children sharing cake with their fingers.
A silver bird pendant split into two keys.
A voice in the dark saying, “Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.”
Clara reached toward Eli.
“You were my brother?”
Eli nodded, tears slipping down his dirty cheeks.
“I waited for you to remember me.”
Clara sobbed and pulled him into her arms.
This time, the room did not clap.
No one dared.
Because this was not a performance.
This was a family being resurrected from a grave built by lies.
Her mother fell to her knees beside them, crying harder than either of them had ever heard.
“I thought you were dead,” she whispered to Eli. “He told me you died.”
Eli closed his eyes.
“I almost did.”
Clara held him tighter.
The reporters lowered their cameras.
Even the bride cried.
Outside, police lights flashed against the golden windows.
Inside, Clara stood once more—not perfectly, not steadily, but with Eli’s arm around her and her mother holding her other hand.
Together, they faced the crowd.
The girl who had been used as a symbol of weakness had just exposed the empire built on her silence.
The homeless boy who had been thrown away had returned as the only person brave enough to tell the truth.
And Richard Vale, the man everyone had admired, was remembered forever not for his wealth, his charity, or his grand wedding hall—
but for the night his daughter stood up, his son came home, and every lie he had buried finally learned how to walk.
