When Vice President Gerald R. Ford assumed the presidency on Aug. 9, 1974, he sought to offer a sense of assurance for a nation battling uncertainty post the resignation of President Richard M. Nixon, who was facing impeachment for his role in the Watergate scandal.
“I assume the presidency under extraordinary circumstances,” he said. “This is an hour of history that troubles our minds and hurts our hearts.”
He continued, telling Americans, “Our long national nightmare is over.”
President Ford’s words promised healing, decency, and a return to normalcy.
Fast-forward almost exactly 51 years, and these exact words resonate with bitter irony. Under President Donald J. Trump’s renewed grip on the presidency, our long national nightmare isn’t over.
Instead, with the elimination of diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) programs, the threat of revoking federal funding for teaching parts of Black history, and attacking the LBTQIA community, it’s well underway just 100 days into his second term.
What was once a phrase of closure, now feels like a warning that has been ignored. While Ford offered unity, Trump sows division.
For example, when an individual’s freedom is unjustly taken, it establishes a dangerous precedent for everyone. This erosion doesn’t occur all at once; it begins small, often with someone whom society may overlook or label as “other.”
The case of Maryland husband and father Kilmar Abrego Garcia is more than an isolated incident—it’s a warning sign.
When the Trump administration denied Abrego Garcia his fundamental rights without due process or transparency and, by admission, wrongfully deported him to El Salvador, it undermined the constitutional protections that every American relies on, thus disobeying a judge’s order.
Further, Trump ignoring district, federal and Supreme Court orders mandating his return, shows his lack of appreciation for the law of the land.
Our democracy is founded on the principle that all individuals are innocent until proven guilty, and everyone is entitled to fair treatment under the law. When this principle is bent or broken for one person—especially someone lacking wealth, power, or status— it becomes easier to justify bending it for others.
Abrego Garcia’s case serves as a test of our commitment to justice. Ignoring his rights has opened the door to government overreach, racial profiling, and unchecked detention.
It risks normalizing a system where freedoms are conditional and selective, undermining the very foundation of equality under the law.
By standing up for Abrego Garcia, we stand up for ourselves. When the freedom of one is denied, the freedom of all is at risk.
The Trump nightmare isn’t something we’ve awoken from. It has only begun, and it’s something we must now fight wide-eyed, clear-headed, and more determined than ever, before we forget what daylight even looks like.
