The Borderline of Brutes & Blame
Garcia, Tribalism, and the Collapse of Critical Thinking
The Borderline of Blame
A few years ago, I was at our sons’ pre-pubescent basketball game with my wife. You know the age—long limbs, little coordination, big hearts. Most of the boys on the court were still catching up to their bodies, trying to figure out how to move without tripping over their own knees.
But there was one kid—let’s call him Grog. He’d hit puberty like a freight train, a good six months ahead of the rest. Towering. Built. Slightly confused by his own brute strength.
Late in the game, a rebound popped off the backboard. Towering over all the rest, all Garuk needed to do was raise his arms. The "rock" firmly planted, he just stood there like a prehistoric pedestal, slowly turning here, then there, clearly assessing the situation. His teammates darted downcourt, eager for a fast break. Grog hoisted the ball like a sack of potatoes and launched it the full length of the court.
It soared over everyone’s head with mind-boggling torque… nailing his smaller teammate square in the chest and blasting him into the padded wall.
I leaned over to my wife and whispered the only thing that could be said, "ME… THROW… ROCK…"
We chuckled—but I haven’t forgotten that moment. Because it’s not just basketball. It’s human discourse right now.
On the internet, in politics, in cultural commentary, it feels like we’ve all become a pack of Cro-Magnons. A bunch of awkward, premature souls—out of proportion emotionally and intellectually—hurling words and judgments at each other with no self-awareness and no aim.
Every controversy? "ME… THROW… ROCK…" No listening. No logic. No learning. Just volume.
So here’s the question: In how we think, speak, and respond—are we revealing ourselves to be just brutes with better tech… or something more?
Because how we handle hard truths doesn’t just reflect what we believe. It reveals what we are.
The Case of Kilmar Abrego Garcia
Nowhere is this more painfully obvious than in the case of Kilmar Abrego Garcia. His deportation and the events surrounding it have triggered widespread outrage—and not without reason. The situation is legally complex and emotionally charged. But the way the conversation has unfolded reveals a deeper problem: for many, facts are secondary to narrative. Tribal loyalty eclipses legal nuance. And emotional certainty displaces careful thought.
So let’s pause, breathe, and examine what has actually happened.
1. Garcia Had a Final Order of Removal Since 2014 This removal order was issued under the Obama administration following immigration court proceedings. It remained legally valid for years (DOJ EOIR database; Lawfare, April 2024).
2. He Was Granted Withholding of Removal in 2019 This protection barred deportation specifically to El Salvador due to fear of persecution, but it did not grant legal status or prevent removal to other countries. It is revocable in certain cases, such as serious criminal conduct (INA § 241(b)(3); Matter of C-J-H-; EOIR Practice Manual).
3. Multiple Red Flags Regarding Violence and Conduct In 2021, Garcia’s wife filed for a temporary protective order, stating she had suffered a black eye and feared for her safety. The case was later dismissed after she chose not to pursue it. She later reported that they addressed the situation privately and entered counseling (AP News, April 2025). While the incident did not result in a conviction, it raised ongoing concerns about volatility in the home.
4. Gang Allegations Remain Disputed Garcia had previously been found in a vehicle with two known MS-13 gang members, wearing a Chicago Bulls cap—allegedly a gang-affiliated signal—and in possession of drugs (Lawfare, April 2024). While a U.S. judge found no sufficient evidence of gang affiliation in 2019, Salvadoran law enforcement continued to identify Garcia as a former MS-13 affiliate (Lawfare, April 2024; Salvadoran PNC intelligence).
5. The Supreme Court Ruled His Deportation Was Unlawful In April 2025, the U.S. Supreme Court unanimously ruled that Garcia’s deportation violated existing legal protections under his withholding order. The Court directed the U.S. government to “facilitate” his return and uphold his legal rights as if the deportation had never occurred (Supreme Court Opinion, April 10, 2025).
6. Legal and Political Tensions Persist Despite the Court’s ruling, the Trump administration argues that El Salvador's custody of Garcia limits U.S. action. President Bukele has declined to release him, citing sovereign authority. U.S. courts and officials remain locked in debate over how far executive responsibility extends (Time, Vanity Fair, April 2025).
Balancing Justice, Law, and National Security
The Garcia case, though significant, must be understood within the broader framework of national policy. The executive branch—under any administration—is tasked with protecting citizens and enforcing immigration law. Trump’s efforts to secure the border and crack down on drug and human trafficking stem from a very real crisis: unprecedented levels of fentanyl-related deaths, cartel violence, and cross-border exploitation.
We’ve lost over 100,000 Americans to fentanyl in just one year. Traffickers exploit unsecured borders not just to move drugs, but people—including children. In cities across the country, victims of gang violence, sexual slavery, and overdose aren't theoretical. They have names.
Imagine this: a neighbor’s son wanders into your yard, repeatedly, sometimes aggressively. Maybe he means no harm. But your duty to protect your children doesn't require perfect knowledge of his heart. It requires action, even if imperfect. That’s the position our national leadership is in.
Can we responsibly judge an administration’s entire policy framework by one case—especially one involving legal ambiguity and international complexity? What’s missing from many critics isn’t just context. It’s honesty about the scale and horror of what border security actually involves.
Still, the Fifth Amendment isn’t optional. It protects every person on U.S. soil—citizen or not—from arbitrary government action. If this case reveals a failure to uphold due process or if political expediency replaced lawful procedure, that’s not a technicality. It’s a warning.
What’s needed is a sober realization that we’re not always going to get it right. But we must be able to acknowledge mistakes, protect constitutional principles, and still operate with clarity and resolve.
The deeper question remains: how do we, as a nation, hold both principles in tension? Secure borders and human dignity. Executive prudence and constitutional fidelity. Tough enforcement and just restraint.
That’s not easy. But it is necessary.
So Where Does That Leave Us?
Not with easy answers. But with a clear reminder: the facts do matter. Courts do intervene. And sometimes, the story is more complex than our tribes are willing to admit.
The tragedy is not just in what happened to Garcia. It’s in how predictably each side responded. For some, the deportation became proof of fascism. For others, proof of strong leadership. Few took the time to wrestle with the law, the limits of presidential power, the reality of sovereign governments, or the delicate balance between justice and enforcement.
And that’s the deeper point of this essay: whether we still care more about what is true than about what is useful to our cause.
Wormwood doesn’t need us to lie. He just needs us to stop asking questions. To surrender complexity for clarity, truth for convenience, justice for narrative.
That’s the real danger. Not Garcia. Not Trump. Not the Court.
It’s us—if we stop thinking.
The Real Issue
This was never just about Garcia. It’s about whether we as a society are still capable of clear thinking—of sifting through legal, moral, and factual complexities without defaulting to ideology.
Do we want just policies, or just outrage?
Do we want principled leadership, or tribal warfare?
Do we care what actually happened—or only how it can be used?
These are the questions we need to ask—because without that kind of reflection, we aren’t contributing to justice. We’re just contributing to the noise.
The Invitation
This isn’t ultimately about politics. It’s about identity.
You and I were not made to be brutes. We were made to be rational, moral beings—capable of courage, clarity, humility, and love. We were made in the image of God. And in a culture increasingly comfortable with acting like mobs, that truth is both radical and essential.
Whether you identify with the left, the right, or somewhere in between, the invitation is the same: look in the mirror. Ask what’s forming you. Ask what you’re becoming.
We began with "Me throw rock"—the primal impulse to react without reflection. But Jesus offers another path. In Matthew 7:21–27, He warns that it’s not those who shout "Lord, Lord," who enter the Kingdom, but those who do the will of the Father. He describes two kinds of people: those who build their lives on shifting sand—and those who build on the rock.
That Rock is truth. That Rock is Christ.
And that’s the choice before each of us.
We can throw rocks—like the crowd surrounding the adulterous woman. Or we can build on the Rock—like disciples who listen, who obey, who choose the narrow way of integrity over the easy path of outrage.
The world is broken. The lines are blurry. The noise is relentless.
But the Messiah stands in the storm, inviting us not to react, but to rebuild—on Him.
Not Me Throw Rock.
Build on the Rock.
That’s what changes lives.
That’s what saves nations.
That’s what reclaims what it means to be truly human.
Enter the Enchanting World of Pigletsville!
Our Present-Day Plight Wrapped in a Fairytale
“The things I believed most then, the things I believe most now, are the things called fairy tales.” - G.K. Chesterton
Enter the Enchanting World of Pigletsville!
Our Present-Day Plight Wrapped in a Fairytale
“The things I believed most then, the things I believe most now, are the things called fairy tales.” - G.K. Chesterton
September, 2021. Lying in the intensive care unit, I could barely move. Or breathe. An oppressive omen lingered over me, painting the sterile walls in shades of death. I was in a void. Devoid of family or friends. Various beeps and mechanical sounds taunted me, discordant notes adding to an ever-growing cacophony orchestrated by some malevolent maestro waving his macabre baton over the planet. Wearing a crown. Pretending to be on the throne.
I became aware of the battle. And lived to tell about it.
This may be a fairytale, but don’t make the mistake in thinking it is not real. It is very real. And consequential. In the shallows you will recognize present-day political personalities and circumstances; in the depths you will encounter our common aspiration for authentic belonging and becoming. Which happens on a battlefield. Involving formidable forces. Not simply for the likes of passing presidents, but transcending all ideologies. I invite you to go there.
“You were there. As was I. And I am now here. And will forever be.”
- Whisper of the Unseen