COLUMN: The U.S. justice system is buckling under the weight of a man who refuses to give in

When the Supreme Court Redraws the Boundaries of Power

July 2024. The U.S. Supreme Court issues a ruling that upends the balance of powers. In Trump v. United States, the justices rule that a president cannot be prosecuted for his official acts. Absolute immunity applies to the essential functions of the presidency. Presumed immunity applies to other official acts. Only purely private acts remain subject to prosecution. This decision, passed by a 6-3 vote, reflects the Court’s conservative makeup. The progressive justices vehemently dissented. Sonia Sotomayor wrote that this decision placed the president above the law. But the majority stood firm. For them, protecting the presidency requires this immunity. Without it, every president would be paralyzed by the fear of future prosecution. Trump’s lawyers immediately seized this opportunity. If any evidence in the trial pertains to official acts, then the entire verdict could be overturned.

Presidential immunity. Those words sound noble, almost necessary. Protecting the leader so he can govern without fear. But look at what we’ve created. A shield that becomes a sword. A protective mechanism that turns into a tool of impunity. I think of all those ordinary citizens who appear before judges for minor offenses. They have no immunity. They don’t have an army of lawyers to delay, challenge, and appeal indefinitely. A two-tiered justice system is no longer a metaphor—it is our daily reality, set in stone by the nation’s highest court.

Two Rejections, One More Chance

Judge Alvin K. Hellerstein, appointed by Democratic President Bill Clinton, has already refused twice to transfer the case to federal court. The first time was in March 2023, after Trump was indicted. The second time was in 2024, following the conviction and the Supreme Court’s ruling on immunity. For Hellerstein, the arguments were clear: the alleged acts concerned Trump’s private life, not his presidential duties. Paying a porn actress to buy her silence is by no means an official act. Falsifying business documents to conceal that payment is even less so. But the 2nd Circuit Court of Appeals disagreed. In November 2025, a three-judge panel ordered Hellerstein to reconsider his decision. Their criticism? The judge had not sufficiently analyzed whether certain evidence presented at trial pertained to official acts—specifically, testimony regarding conversations at the White House. Documents exchanged during the presidency. According to Trump’s lawyers, these items are protected by evidentiary privilege.

Imagine being that judge. You’ve studied the case for months. You’ve weighed every argument, analyzed every precedent. You’ve rendered your decision—twice. And now, you’re being asked to start over. Not because you made a glaring error. But because the rules changed along the way. Because a Supreme Court ruling has redrawn the playing field. I can’t help but feel a certain empathy for Hellerstein. He embodies a justice system that tries to hold its ground in the face of forces beyond its control. A justice system that knows every decision will be scrutinized, challenged, and politicized. A justice system that must choose between the letter of the law and the spirit of democracy.

A Woman at the Center of a National Scandal

Stephanie Clifford, known by her stage name Stormy Daniels, never set out to become a political symbol. In 2006, she allegedly had an affair with Donald Trump during a golf tournament in Lake Tahoe. Trump had been married to Melania for a year. Their son Barron had just been born. Daniels claims the encounter took place. Trump categorically denies it. Ten years later, in October 2016, the presidential campaign was in full swing. The scandal over Trump’s remarks about women—caught on an open microphone—had just broken. Michael Cohen, fearing that a new revelation could tip the election, negotiated with Daniels. $130,000 for her silence. She signed a confidentiality agreement. The money was funneled through a shell company. Daniels honored the agreement for months. Then, in 2018, she decided to speak out. Her testimony at the 2024 trial was devastating: intimate details, text messages, and evidence that Cohen was acting on Trump’s orders.

Stormy Daniels. That name has become a punchline, an easy joke for talk shows. But behind that name is a woman who dared to stand up to the most powerful man in the world. Think about what kind of courage that takes. Or what kind of desperation. Or maybe just a need for the truth. She knew what was in store for her—the insults, the threats, the public humiliation. She did it anyway. And now, while lawyers debate immunity and jurisdiction, she remains there, somewhere, a witness to a story that is beyond her control. I wonder if she regrets speaking out. If she would make the same choice again. If she knew her truth would be drowned in an ocean of legal proceedings.

The Betrayal That Changed Everything

Michael Cohen was more than just Trump’s lawyer. He was his fixer—the one who handled delicate problems. For over a decade, Cohen served Trump with absolute loyalty. He described himself as the kind of person who would take a bullet for his boss. In 2016, when the Daniels scandal threatened to blow up, Cohen acted quickly. He set up a shell company, Essential Consultants LLC. He paid $130,000 out of his own pocket. He had her sign the nondisclosure agreement. Then he waited to be reimbursed. Trump reimbursed him, but disguised the payments as legal fees—monthly invoices for $35,000. In total, $420,000 to cover the initial payment, taxes, and a bonus. Everything is documented. Everything is traceable. In 2018, Cohen was arrested. He pleaded guilty to several crimes, including violations of campaign finance laws. He claimed to have acted on Trump’s orders. He became the Manhattan district attorney’s star witness.

Cohen both fascinates and repulses me. This man who boasted of his loyalty, who threatened journalists, who intimidated witnesses—now he’s turned into a snitch. Some see him as a hero who has found his conscience. Others see him as a traitor who switched sides to save his own skin. For me, he is above all a man broken by a system that used him and then discarded him. He served three years in prison. Trump is president again. Once again, the justice system seems to have its favorites. Cohen is paying for crimes committed while working for Trump. Trump, meanwhile, continues to deny, contest, and appeal. And in the meantime, Cohen testifies, again and again, in the hope that his truth will eventually matter.

Convicted but free, guilty but unpunished

On January 10, 2025, Donald Trump appears in court for sentencing. Judge Juan Merchan, who presided over the trial, must decide on the sentence. There are many options: prison, probation, a fine, or community service. Prosecutors are not seeking a prison sentence. They acknowledge the exceptional circumstances: Trump is president-elect and will take office in ten days. Merchan hands down his decision: unconditional acquittal. Trump remains convicted but faces no punishment. No prison. No probation. No fine. No community service. The conviction remains on his criminal record. But in practical terms, Trump pays nothing. Merchan justifies his decision on the grounds of respect for the presidency. Imprisoning a president-elect would create a constitutional crisis. Even probation would complicate the exercise of his duties. Trump, who attended the hearing virtually, immediately denounced the trial as a political one. He promised to appeal. His lawyers filed their appeal the very same day.

An unconditional discharge. Those words ring like a capitulation. Judge Merchan did what he believed was right—respecting the institution of the presidency. But at what cost? We have just set a terrifying precedent: you can be convicted of 34 crimes and face no consequences. Absolutely none. If you’re powerful enough. If you have enough influence. If you’re about to lead the country. The justice system turned a blind eye. It looked the other way. It chose political stability over equality before the law. And I understand why—I really do. But that doesn’t make the pill any less bitter. It doesn’t change the message being sent: some people are untouchable.

Alvin Bragg, the Man Who Dared to Prosecute Trump

Alvin Bragg, Manhattan’s district attorney since 2022, knew what he was getting himself into. Prosecuting a former president—and potentially a future president—is no trivial matter. His predecessors had investigated Trump for years without ever filing charges. Bragg took the plunge in March 2023. His indictment sparked a political storm. Republicans cried “witch hunt.” Democrats praised Bragg’s courage. He remained focused on the case. The evidence was solid: forged documents, consistent testimony, and bank records. The trial lasted six weeks. The jurors heard from 22 witnesses. They examined hundreds of pieces of evidence. Their verdict validated Bragg’s work. But now, faced with Trump’s legal maneuvers, Bragg must defend his case before new courts. He argues that the case involves purely private acts; that presidential immunity does not apply; and that the verdict must stand.

Bragg carries a burden that few of us can imagine. Every decision he makes is analyzed through a political lens. Every argument is dissected by millions of people. He cannot afford to make a mistake. A single flaw, and everything comes crashing down. I think about the pressure he’s under—not just professionally, but personally. The threats. The insults. The certainty that half the country hates him. And yet, he keeps going. He defends his case with a determination that commands respect. No matter what we think of Trump, no matter our political views, we must acknowledge this: Bragg did his job. He enforced the law. He secured a conviction. The rest—the appeals, the maneuvers, the delays—is the system working against him.

When Justice Becomes a Political Battleground

This case goes far beyond the Trump case. It raises fundamental questions about the U.S. judicial system. Can a sitting president be prosecuted? Where does presidential immunity begin? Where does it end? Are acts committed before the presidency protected? What about acts committed during the presidency but unrelated to official duties? The Supreme Court attempted to answer these questions in July 2024. But its decision raised more questions than it resolved. The justices established three categories of acts: essential official acts (absolute immunity), non-essential official acts (presumed immunity), and private acts (no immunity). But who decides which category a given act falls into? The courts, of course. Which means years of litigation. Appeals. Cross-appeals. Conflicting rulings across jurisdictions. The Trump case perfectly illustrates this chaos. A case that should have been simple—document tampering—has become an endless legal maze.

We’ve turned justice into a combat sport. Every decision is a victory or a defeat. Every judge is an ally or an enemy. Every verdict is political before it is legal. And while we fight over these constitutional issues, we forget the essential point: a man has been convicted of lying, cheating, and concealing the truth. Thirty-four times. This isn’t a question of immunity. It isn’t a question of jurisdiction. It’s a question of truth. But the truth, in this media-judicial circus, has become the least important factor. What matters is who wins. Who loses. Who controls the narrative. And meanwhile, trust in our institutions is eroding, day after day, decision after decision.

A Battle That Redefines Democracy

On February 4, 2026, Judge Hellerstein will hear arguments that could change the course of American legal history. Whatever his decision, it will be contested. If he upholds the verdict, Trump will appeal. If he transfers the case to federal court, the prosecutors will appeal. This legal battle could last for years. Meanwhile, Trump governs. He appoints judges. He influences the very system that is judging him. The irony is cruel: the president who should be the guardian of the law is the one who challenges it most vigorously. The implications for American democracy are profound. If Trump succeeds in having his conviction overturned, what message are we sending? That legal persistence pays off? That financial resources allow one to evade justice? That political power shields one from criminal liability? These questions will haunt America long after this case is resolved. For beyond Trump, beyond Stormy Daniels, beyond the $130,000, it is the very idea of equal justice for all that is at stake.

I end this column with a sense of vertigo. Not anger—I’ve moved past that stage. Not resignation either—I refuse to give in to it. Just this vertigo in the face of the magnitude of what’s at stake. We are at a turning point. Not just for America, but for all the democracies watching us. If Trump wins this battle, if his conviction is overturned, we will have established a simple rule: power absolves all. Lies. Manipulation. Crimes. Everything can be forgiven, forgotten, undone if you climb high enough. And if he loses? If the verdict stands? Then perhaps—just perhaps—we will have proven that justice still exists. That it is slow, imperfect, frustrating—but that it exists. I don’t know what will happen. No one does. But I know this: we will remember this moment. We will remember the day a convicted president defied justice. And we will remember what we did—or failed to do—in the face of that challenge.

Signed, Jacques Provost