DOJ Strikes Back: Trump Team Revives Cases Against Comey & Letitia James!

Paul Riverbank, 12/23/2025DOJ revives high-profile cases, battles states, and targets minority-serving college funding amid legal upheaval.

It’s the kind of footnote in legal filings that sends ripples through major investigations. U.S. District Judge Cameron Currie threw out both cases after determining that Lindsey Halligan, the attorney behind their indictments, wasn’t actually eligible to serve in her role. “Ms. Halligan has been unlawfully serving in that role since September 22, 2025,” the judge wrote, effectively forcing the government to abandon prosecutions—at least for the time being.

For those imagining a quiet retreat, though, think again. Attorney General Pam Bondi wasted little time making her stance clear: appeals would be “immediate,” with more legal maneuvers on the horizon. Over at the FBI, Director Kash Patel noted they’re “exploring other options” to keep the Comey matter afloat. That’s easier said than done. For one, a separate judge ordered much of the most sensitive evidentiary material against Comey—emails, server data—purged from the record, an unusual move even for high-profile political cases. And let’s not forget time: federal prosecutors now find themselves up against the ironclad statute of limitations, with five-year windows threatening to slam shut. Whether that clock can be restarted, as Trump-era attorneys now argue, is a knot only the appeals court can untangle.

Letitia James’s case, meanwhile, faces its own headwinds. Two distinct grand juries have declined to re-indict her, a result that puts DOJ attorneys in a bind—press forward and risk further public rebuke, or regroup and decipher whether any charges could withstand new scrutiny.

Meanwhile, as legal attention shifts, the DOJ’s aggressive posture isn’t confined to old cases. Just as court headlines started piling up, federal authorities opened a fresh legal war: this time against the state of Illinois. At issue are two immigration laws—the Bivens Act and the Court Access, Safety, and Participation Act—which, according to DOJ officials, impede officers attempting to enforce federal policy. The move isn’t isolated; rather, it’s part of a pattern of litigation targeting states the Trump administration believes are placing their own priorities over federal supremacy.

Simultaneously, another fault line has emerged—this one running straight through America’s system of higher education. The DOJ’s Office of Legal Counsel released a blunt legal opinion: many grants historically offered to “minority-serving institutions” (MSIs) are, in their words, now unconstitutional. The legal basis? A Supreme Court decision from the previous year, which reined in the use of race in college admissions, now serves as grounds to scale back funding for universities whose eligibility was tied to student demographics.

Reaction was swift, if not entirely predictable. Senator Alex Padilla, a leading advocate for Hispanic-serving institutions and chair of a key Senate caucus, lambasted DOJ’s rationale as “baseless.” In his view, federal support for MSIs isn’t just legal—it represents a national investment with longstanding bipartisan backing. “Donald Trump and his Administration are once again attacking the institutions that expand opportunity for millions of aspiring students of all backgrounds,” he argued, voicing what many educators feel: that this legal shift threatens both budgets and missions.

Campus presidents, meanwhile, find themselves in the unenviable position of picking up the pieces. “We recognize that this news creates uncertainty and anxiety for the students, faculty and staff whose work and educational pathways are supported by these funds,” wrote Wendy F. Hensel, who leads the University of Hawai’i. The task at hand is daunting—how to reassure communities while reshuffling budgets amidst such regulatory flux.

On the other side of the aisle, the Justice Department’s report drew applause from lawmakers who’ve often championed a race-neutral approach to education aid. Representative Tim Walberg, who chairs the House committee overseeing education policy, denounced what he called “arbitrary, race-based quotas.” He framed the policy reversal as a return to American ideals, where “every citizen can chase the American Dream,” untethered from institutional classifications.

The Department of Education, a bystander in some respects but now very much in the thick of it, is still counting the real costs. For 2025, most MSI grants are being phased out, though programs like TRIO—which target low-income and first-generation students—have yet to face the chopping block. Still, the department’s public signals list such initiatives as “affected,” raising inevitable questions about how much insulation even longstanding programs truly have.

So what does all this mean, in practical terms? For universities, law enforcement agencies, and state governments, it means a season of second-guessing and strategic planning—one where courtroom setbacks don’t necessarily translate into lasting victories, and every judicial decision seems liable to be reversed, appealed, or circumvented in the next legal round.

The bigger takeaway is the Justice Department’s increasingly bold, and at times improvisational, legal strategy. Pushing disputed cases up the ladder, contesting state statutes, and rooting out race-conscious funding programs reflect an administration intent on shaping federal policy—not through legislation, but via courtroom battles and administrative re-interpretation. No one—whether prosecutor, legislator, or university president—should expect the dust to settle soon.

For now, appeals are underway, lawsuits are multiplying, and the only constant appears to be uncertainty. In this new landscape, those who depend on government programs and regulatory clarity may find themselves waiting for answers that, even in calmer times, rarely arrive all at once.

The legal temperature in Washington, always prone to sudden spikes, has risen sharply again this week, thanks to a cascade of Department of Justice actions that have courtrooms and government offices alike buzzing. At the heart of this latest turmoil are two headline cases the DOJ wants desperately to keep alive—criminal proceedings against former FBI Director James Comey, as well as New York Attorney General Letitia James. While each faced very different charges—ranging from obstructing Congress to alleged bank fraud—both now share a peculiar twist: their indictments didn’t collapse due to unavailable evidence or legal exoneration, but a procedural snag over the appointment of a key federal prosecutor.It’s the kind of footnote in legal filings that sends ripples through major investigations. U.S. District Judge Cameron Currie threw out both cases after determining that Lindsey Halligan, the attorney behind their indictments, wasn’t actually eligible to serve in her role. “Ms. Halligan has been unlawfully serving in that role since September 22, 2025,” the judge wrote, effectively forcing the government to abandon prosecutions—at least for the time being.For those imagining a quiet retreat, though, think again. Attorney General Pam Bondi wasted little time making her stance clear: appeals would be “immediate,” with more legal maneuvers on the horizon. Over at the FBI, Director Kash Patel noted they’re “exploring other options” to keep the Comey matter afloat. That’s easier said than done. For one, a separate judge ordered much of the most sensitive evidentiary material against Comey—emails, server data—purged from the record, an unusual move even for high-profile political cases. And let’s not forget time: federal prosecutors now find themselves up against the ironclad statute of limitations, with five-year windows threatening to slam shut. Whether that clock can be restarted, as Trump-era attorneys now argue, is a knot only the appeals court can untangle.Letitia James’s case, meanwhile, faces its own headwinds. Two distinct grand juries have declined to re-indict her, a result that puts DOJ attorneys in a bind—press forward and risk further public rebuke, or regroup and decipher whether any charges could withstand new scrutiny.Meanwhile, as legal attention shifts, the DOJ’s aggressive posture isn’t confined to old cases. Just as court headlines started piling up, federal authorities opened a fresh legal war: this time against the state of Illinois. At issue are two immigration laws—the Bivens Act and the Court Access, Safety, and Participation Act—which, according to DOJ officials, impede officers attempting to enforce federal policy. The move isn’t isolated; rather, it’s part of a pattern of litigation targeting states the Trump administration believes are placing their own priorities over federal supremacy.Simultaneously, another fault line has emerged—this one running straight through America’s system of higher education. The DOJ’s Office of Legal Counsel released a blunt legal opinion: many grants historically offered to “minority-serving institutions” (MSIs) are, in their words, now unconstitutional. The legal basis? A Supreme Court decision from the previous year, which reined in the use of race in college admissions, now serves as grounds to scale back funding for universities whose eligibility was tied to student demographics.Reaction was swift, if not entirely predictable. Senator Alex Padilla, a leading advocate for Hispanic-serving institutions and chair of a key Senate caucus, lambasted DOJ’s rationale as “baseless.” In his view, federal support for MSIs isn’t just legal—it represents a national investment with longstanding bipartisan backing. “Donald Trump and his Administration are once again attacking the institutions that expand opportunity for millions of aspiring students of all backgrounds,” he argued, voicing what many educators feel: that this legal shift threatens both budgets and missions.Campus presidents, meanwhile, find themselves in the unenviable position of picking up the pieces. “We recognize that this news creates uncertainty and anxiety for the students, faculty and staff whose work and educational pathways are supported by these funds,” wrote Wendy F. Hensel, who leads the University of Hawai’i. The task at hand is daunting—how to reassure communities while reshuffling budgets amidst such regulatory flux.On the other side of the aisle, the Justice Department’s report drew applause from lawmakers who’ve often championed a race-neutral approach to education aid. Representative Tim Walberg, who chairs the House committee overseeing education policy, denounced what he called “arbitrary, race-based quotas.” He framed the policy reversal as a return to American ideals, where “every citizen can chase the American Dream,” untethered from institutional classifications.The Department of Education, a bystander in some respects but now very much in the thick of it, is still counting the real costs. For 2025, most MSI grants are being phased out, though programs like TRIO—which target low-income and first-generation students—have yet to face the chopping block. Still, the department’s public signals list such initiatives as “affected,” raising inevitable questions about how much insulation even longstanding programs truly have.So what does all this mean, in practical terms? For universities, law enforcement agencies, and state governments, it means a season of second-guessing and strategic planning—one where courtroom setbacks don’t necessarily translate into lasting victories, and every judicial decision seems liable to be reversed, appealed, or circumvented in the next legal round.The bigger takeaway is the Justice Department’s increasingly bold, and at times improvisational, legal strategy. Pushing disputed cases up the ladder, contesting state statutes, and rooting out race-conscious funding programs reflect an administration intent on shaping federal policy—not through legislation, but via courtroom battles and administrative re-interpretation. No one—whether prosecutor, legislator, or university president—should expect the dust to settle soon.For now, appeals are underway, lawsuits are multiplying, and the only constant appears to be uncertainty. In this new landscape, those who depend on government programs and regulatory clarity may find themselves waiting for answers that, even in calmer times, rarely arrive all at once.