The first time it happens, it’s a fluke. A clerical error. A miscommunication. A single man taken without charge, without trial, and sent elsewhere—somewhere gray and cold where the lights never fully go off. An unfortunate mistake, the government assures us. An isolated incident.

The second time, it’s policy.

At first, no one notices because, let’s be honest, the guy was probably guilty of something. No one wakes up at 6 AM to a raid unless they’ve earned it, right? The headlines are efficient, the language careful: Detained for National Security Concerns. Administrative Transfer. A Matter of Executive Privilege. Fancy ways of saying, Don’t worry about it.

But here’s the thing about due process: It doesn’t just disappear overnight. It dissolves. It erodes. Piece by peace. Peace by piece. Until, one day, you realize it’s gone, and the only thing left is the memory of how things used to work, back when evidence mattered and judges weren’t just rubber stamps.

By the time people notice, it's too late. The rules have changed. The trial isn’t in a courtroom anymore; it’s in an office, a bunker, a dark room where nobody asks the name of the man with the gun. The accused? He isn’t a person now. He’s a problem. A disruption. And in a world without due process, problems don’t get resolved. They get removed.

So tell me—how many people need to disappear before you start to wonder if you’ll be next? And, more importantly, will you say something when they come for your neighbor? Or will you assume, just like they did, that it’s only happening to the guilty?

Are the Conservatives, Are Canadian government's going down this dark path as well?

Context March 2025

Recent events have raised significant concerns about the lack of due process in cases involving individuals transferred to foreign countries under questionable legal circumstances. One such case involves Andry José Hernández Romero, a 31-year-old Venezuelan makeup artist who sought asylum in the United States after facing persecution for being gay. Despite passing an initial asylum screening, he was detained by U.S. officials due to tattoos that were misinterpreted as gang symbols. In March 2025, he was secretly deported to El Salvador under the expanded powers of the Alien Enemies Act, a move that sparked legal and public outcry over the absence of substantial evidence and the failure to provide him with due process (New Yorker, 2025). Similarly, international students involved in pro-Palestinian campus activism have become targets of immigration enforcement, with over 300 students having their visas revoked. Many of these students, despite possessing valid documentation and having no criminal records, were detained or deported, raising concerns over violations of free speech and civil rights (Time, 2025). In another instance, detainees at immigration courts in Louisiana, a region known as “Detention Alley,” faced proceedings without legal representation or interpreters, exacerbating the already dire conditions of detention facilities that lack adequate medical care (Guardian, 2025). Additionally, a federal judge recently criticized the Justice Department for its failure to comply with court orders to halt deportation flights under the Alien Enemies Act, citing grave concerns over due process violations (CBS News, 2025). These cases highlight systemic issues in immigration and deportation practices, emphasizing the urgent need to uphold legal rights and prevent human rights abuses.