Winter’s cold bit fresh and sharp in Washington, D.C., that morning, and within the federal courthouse that morning, the mood was even icier. The people in the gathering crowd were not the usual sort of attorneys and clerks. Instead, political staffers with sharpened pencils, reporters, a smattering of senior operatives from both parties — people who wait in the shadows for hearings, now emerging from the shadows due to whispers about something unusual — were lining the benches. The air was electric, that charged air before the unexpected occurred.
President Trump’s press secretary, Caroline Leavitt came into the courtroom, regally, with the measured stride of one that is accustomed to public scrutiny. Nonetheless, even she hesitated for a beat when she sensed that hush within the chamber – its quality both more reverential in tone and much too quiet a hearing for one described on the docket as “routine.”
The chief justice John Roberts can be seen sitting at the bench, the face of a practiced neutrality. No customary greetings. No gentle preamble. A mere cold declaration with the finality of weight. The defendant offended the Federal Communications Act. A $50,000 fine is imposed.”
There was a sharp pause. No references, no motion to deliberate, no need to refer to precedent or statute in its entirety. Not the least hint that the proceeding had even started officially. Just a declaration—clinical, absolute.
From across Leavitt’s face a flicker of confusion appeared as she stood up to speak. Her voice was controlled, but its sharpness of disbelief could not be missed. “Your honor, we have not even started. I plead to deliver my defense”.
The room remained still. Cameras clacked once and stopped because they were not sure whether this was a matter of formality or violation of the basic norm. Not even the clerks who always went about with bureaucratic efficiency, seemed out of paralysis.
On the streets of the courthouse, whispers were already starting to ripple the feeds of social and the rooms of press. Chief Justice Roberts had in his recent judgment affirmed the place of the judiciary to act as a safeguard against congressional or executive excesses. That morning a headline of the Washington Times had quoted him saying “The courts must check the excesses of Congress or the executive”. The declaration, made in another public address, now reverberated now ominously against the morrow’s events.
Inside, nobody seemed to be quite sure if the Leavitt fine had been intended as a slap to her personally, as a shot across the bow of the administration, or as a judicial assertion of independent power in a hyper-partisan arena. The fact that the $ 50,000 penalty did not appear even legally sustainable without evidentiary proceedings was questioned by some. Others questioned out loud whether the hearing had been only symbolic.
As Leavitt stood there waiting for someone to reply, the courtrooms were still. More remarks were not heard from the bench. The session, apparently, was as good as over before it had even had a start.
On the courthouse steps, the press hustled for quotes and film footage. Real time questions were being witnessed – those of process, of motive, and of legality. The implications were not clear, but the message was clear, loud, and clear. something had shifted. It was either a calculated warning or an institutional failure, but silence inside the courtroom now shouted out louder than any ruling.