Trump's New Favorite Law for Criminalizing His Opponents

Sign up for the Slatest to get the most insightful analysis, criticism, and advice out there, delivered to your inbox daily.
Imagine this: You're in a heated public confrontation with a person on the street. A chaotic scene, raised voices, they shove you and you shove back. The problem is that the person you shoved is an undercover federal officer. No badge. ID No. No uniform. Next thing you know, you're charged with a federal crime by a federal prosecutor and facing eight years in federal prison. Bond denied. Trial delayed. And the government gets to call you a violent criminal on every news channel until your day in court.
Now imagine you're a sitting member of Congress.
On May 19, 2025, federal prosecutors charged Rep. LaMonica McIver, a New Jersey Democrat, under a little-known federal statute —18 US Code Section 111 — for allegedly assaulting and impeding Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers during a visit to a Newark detention facility. The officers refused her entry to conduct a federally authorized oversight visit . It's still unclear whether the claimed assault was alleged to be physical or verbal. But what's clear is that Rep. McIver's prosecution reveals something much larger: Under the current administration, Section 111 is being reimagined as a blunt political weapon . Not to deter violence—but to silence dissent and criminalize opponents.
Section 111 makes it a crime to “forcibly assault, resist, oppose, impede, intimidate, or interfere with” federal officials engaged in their duties. But here's the problem: You don't even need to know they're federal officials. You can be convicted for shoving someone you think is just someone yelling in your face, even just placing them in “ reasonable fear of harm ” without physical contact—if they turn out to be a plainclothes agent. That's not hypothetical. That's precedent, courtesy of the Supreme Court over 50 years ago.
Which means this: An undercover agent embedded in a protest, a public meeting, even a constituent town hall could claim to have been “impeded,” and the federal government can treat that moment as a federal crime. Under the current administration's appetite for authoritarianism, that's not a loophole, it's a feature.
The right to resist illegal force, including by the government, is as old as American law itself . As Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia explained, the Constitution's Bill of Rights is “ designed to guard against a spirit of oppression and tyranny on the part of rulers .” The Second Amendment enshrines the right to self-defense as a “ direct check against government oppression .”
To this end, courts have recognized the legitimacy of self-defense, defense of others , and deadly force against state officers when force is excessive or unlawful. But by not requiring knowledge that the person is a federal officer, Section 111 erodes that principle, creating a chilling catch-22: Lawfully defend yourself against someone who looks like an attacker, and you could still spend months or years in jail before you are acquitted. Why? Because self-defense is a question for the jury at trial—not arraignment or pretrial. Trial may not come for months or years . Meanwhile, the prosecution insists: We're just following the law.
In practice, it's even worse. Federal agents increasingly operate in masks and plain clothes , drive unmarked SUVs , and make arrests without warrants or even identifying themselves. Meanwhile, impersonators are exploiting this ambiguity often without fear of federal prosecution. Despite impersonation being a federal crime , federal prosecutors have not prosecuted ICE impersonators—armed with ICE-branded clothes and SUVs that look just official enough—who have improperly removed people from jail , kidnapped civilians , and terrorized neighborhoods. In many communities, the difference between a rogue officer and a criminal impersonator is nearly impossible to discern . Yet the law criminalizes any mistaken resistance.
All of this is politically useful.
Because now, prosecutors and politicians don't have to justify the force, the policy, or even the officer's conduct. Prosecutors just have to say, “We’re enforcing the law.” And nontargeted politicians can merely deflect as their colleagues are silenced and worse—as Rep. Don Bacon, A Nebraska Republican, did when asked about Rep. McIver's case, saying, “ I trust our law enforcement. In the end, we've got judges and juries, appeals .” A confrontation becomes a crime. The arrest becomes the message. The criminal charge becomes the narrative: Criminal. Vermin . Thug . Enemy from within .
McIver's case is a warning shot. And she won't be the last. Under this administration, Section 111 will be the perfect cudgel: hard to challenge, easy to abuse, and ready-made for headlines. You don't need conspiracy theories when the statute is already written.
Congress has a solution: Amend the law. Require that the defendant knew —or at least should have known —that the person they allegedly resisted was a federal officer. That's not radical. That's just fair. Such a requirement would not only align Section 111 with foundational principles of criminal culpability but also prevent the statute's overreach into matters more appropriately handled by state law. Litigating a shove between two people who perceive each other as private citizens in federal court federalizes conduct that lacks any meaningful federal interest . Without this fix, we're one shove away from turning routine political protest, or routine oversight, into a federal crime.
This isn't just about Rep. McIver. It's about every journalist, activist, legislator, or citizen who lawfully defends themselves against unlawful force. The government's message is clear: obey or be made an example.
And if this sounds like a law President Trump would love—it's because it is.
