Trump’s Unconstitutional Blueprint

A Personal Vendetta Masquerading as Policy

When Donald Trump stormed back into the White House in January 2025, it wasn’t with a vision for the future. It was with a vendetta — and a toolkit built for demolition. Democracy, separation of powers, basic legal norms: everything was once again up for grabs, only this time with fewer grown-ups in the room and an even more exhausted electorate.

If anyone had hoped the gravity of a second presidency might mellow him, the first 100 days smashed those dreams like a cheap wine glass under a steel boot. Trump didn't come back to "serve." He came back to settle scores — and he’s treating the Constitution like the first name on his hit list.

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Act I: Defy, Delay, Deport — The New Normal at the Border

One of the earliest signs that Trump’s second term would be a constitutional trainwreck was his administration's approach to immigration. Within weeks, immigration authorities were back to ignoring federal court orders — but this time, they weren’t even pretending to respect judicial oversight.

Under secretive directives leaked to the press in February, ICE agents were authorised to expedite deportations even when judges issued stays. In other words: "If a court order comes in, move faster."

This wasn’t a new idea. It recycled the infamous playbook from Trump’s first term, like the 2017 deportation of Mahmoud Khalil, a legal U.S. resident whose removal defied a federal restraining order. Back then, Trump’s lawyers spun fairy tales about "airspace jurisdiction." Now, they don’t bother spinning anything. Court orders are simply treated as polite suggestions — the kind you ignore with a smile and a middle finger.

The pattern is unmistakable: in Trump’s America, due process is for suckers, and legal victories for immigrants are celebrated for about as long as it takes ICE to get someone on a plane.

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Act II: Dusting Off the Alien Enemies Act — Now with Hair Gel and Handcuffs

Trump’s second-term immigration war didn’t just push boundaries — it raided the National Archives, blew the dust off a 226-year-old authoritarian fever dream, and called it policy.

Enter the Alien Enemies Act of 1798 — a law so old it predates indoor plumbing, last used to jail Italians during World War II. Its purpose? Allow the president to detain or deport citizens of “hostile” nations during declared wars. Its revival? Trump’s Department of Homeland Security slapped a “national security emergency” label on the southern border and declared the 18th century open for business.

And this time, it wasn’t theory.

Green-card holders from “countries of interest” — vague code for places with brown people and bad headlines on Fox — suddenly found themselves targeted. No trial. No hearing. No phone call. Just zip-ties, press silence, and a one-way trip to legal purgatory.

Like Alexis Romero de Hernández — a Miami-based Venezuelan hairdresser, legal resident, no criminal record, known mainly for balayage skills and feeding her elderly mother. She was picked up in an ICE raid outside a Target. Her crime? Having the wrong passport at the wrong time — and reportedly cutting hair for the wrong cousin. Within 36 hours, she was shipped off to a holding facility in Arizona. Her lawyer filed an emergency stay. DHS responded by invoking the Alien Enemies Act and telling the court they’d already put her on a plane.

Or Mr. Ábrego García — a Salvadoran mechanic from Houston, married to a U.S. citizen, green card in hand, two kids in Little League. His offence? Once, posting a Facebook photo in front of a Salvadoran flag, which some genius at DHS flagged as “foreign sympathies.” He was detained at his workplace, denied a hearing, and deported before his wife could even reach a lawyer. When asked for comment, a DHS official reportedly shrugged and said, “Better safe than sorry.”

The kicker? No war was declared. But Trump had declared a vendetta, and that was enough.

The ACLU, remembering how this movie went last time, dubbed it “the Muslim Ban on ketamine.” They tried suing. Trump’s DOJ responded by suing them, accusing the organisation of “undermining national stability.” You can’t make this up. Unless you’re John Yoo. Or Stephen Miller. Or your uncle on Facebook.

Even inside the conservative legal establishment, some stomachs churned. A Federalist Society panellist was overheard muttering, “This isn’t conservatism — it’s Caesarism with a Twitter account and a Bluetooth headset.” Trump’s response was predictable: an all-caps Truth Social post featuring his face photoshopped onto Rambo’s body.

“TRAITORS LOVE ‘EM OR LEAVE ‘EM!”

The message was clear: under Trump 2.0, the Constitution isn’t a guardrail — it’s a suggestion. And if an old law lets you crush a few thousand lives on the way to a campaign rally, even better. After all, what’s a little 18th-century tyranny between friends?

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Act III: Court Orders? Cute. Let’s Ignore Them.

If the first acts of Trump’s second presidency were a middle finger to immigration law, the next act was a frontal assault on the very idea of judicial authority.

When courts issued rulings unfavourable to Trump’s immigration policies, environmental rollbacks, or financial disclosures, the administration’s new tactic wasn’t to appeal — it was to ignore. Period.

Agencies quietly instructed field offices to "interpret" restraining orders as narrowly as possible, often crossing into outright defiance.
One federal judge in Washington, D.C., described the administration’s conduct as "a deliberate effort to subvert the judiciary’s constitutional role." Translation: Trump wasn’t just stepping on the courts — he was daring them to do something about it.

And with the Supreme Court now firmly packed with loyalists, Trump seemed confident that the worst that could happen was a wrist slap from a court that increasingly sounded like his fan club.

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Act IV: Normalising the Unthinkable — How Trump Waged War on the Judiciary

It wasn’t just the policies that mattered. It was the relentless drumbeat of attacks designed to turn Americans against the judicial branch itself.

Trump’s second term escalated his war of words on the courts to new levels. Judges who ruled against him were branded "radical partisans," "traitors," or, in one infamous Truth Social post, "enemies of the American people." Court rulings were described as "deep state sabotage," and Trump openly floated the idea of ignoring Supreme Court decisions he deemed "illegitimate."

The strategy was clear: delegitimise the courts enough, and eventually, the public stops caring when the executive tramples over them.
Trump wasn’t just defying individual rulings — he was laying the groundwork for a system where the law only exists when it serves him.

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Final: The Blueprint for Breaking America

Strip away the noise, and the blueprint is clear enough for even a fifth-grader to understand:

• Defy the courts.

• Delay any legal consequences.

• Deport or punish vulnerable populations first.

• Distract the public with chaos.

• Delegitimise every institution that stands in your way.

The real danger isn’t just what Trump did in his first 100 days — it’s what he proved could be done when the public is too exhausted, the institutions too weakened, and the opposition too divided.

This wasn’t incompetence. This wasn’t chaos theory.
This was methodical, deliberate constitutional demolition.

And it’s just getting started.