Trump Blasts ‘Broken System’ After Habba Forced Out as U.S. Attorney

Paul Riverbank, 12/10/2025Alina Habba’s ouster as New Jersey’s top federal prosecutor exposes escalating legal and political battles over interim appointments, spotlighting how executive ambitions, Senate traditions, and judicial oversight continue to clash in shaping American justice.

The heart of the matter wasn’t about the cases she brought or left unfinished, but rather how she got the job in the first place. Habba, who took office in March, was first tapped for a 120-day interim term. When that clock ran out, Trump’s team, undeterred, shifted her status to “acting” U.S. attorney—a not-uncommon workaround. Soon enough, federal judges weighed in. District Judge Matthew Brann, first to rule, wrote that Habba’s continued service didn’t square with federal law. A Third Circuit panel agreed, and none of the judges seemed inclined to split hairs over the technicalities.

Somewhat surprisingly, the Justice Department hasn’t yet decided to appeal, at least for now. Habba, unfazed in her public statements, took to social media: “Do not mistake compliance for surrender,” she wrote. Her resignation, she claimed, was not about giving in but about ensuring the office itself wasn’t entangled in uncertainty. There was promise, too, that this would not be her last word in the department.

The reaction in political circles was swift, if predictable. Pam Bondi, the Attorney General and loyal Trump ally, responded with disappointment—“flawed,” she called the court ruling—and stressed that the administration would still push for Habba’s return, should the legal tides shift. Meanwhile, Trump himself took a characteristically dim view of the process. “It makes it impossible to appoint a judge or a U.S. attorney,” he declared, venting at a press gathering about what he described as a broken system strangled by tradition and Senate custom.

The real snag lies in the rules: U.S. attorneys are supposed to be vetted and confirmed by the Senate, and home-state senators, via their so-called blue slips, can stall or block a nomination. In New Jersey, that means Cory Booker and Andy Kim—both Democrats—hold considerable sway. For a White House seeking friendly faces in prosecutor seats, it’s a political minefield.

With Habba out, three career DOJ lawyers—Philip Lamparello, Jordan Foxas, and Ari Fontecchio—will divide the office’s leadership for now. Todd Blanche, the Deputy Attorney General, issued a steadying hand, making clear the department still had faith in its lineup. It was an attempt, perhaps, to soothe nerves rattled by the shuffle and to restore some semblance of continuity.

Despite the headlines, Habba isn’t leaving government service entirely. She’ll stay on as a senior advisor, standing by as the courts—and the administration—sort out the limits of presidential authority over these appointments. She remains, by all accounts, staunchly loyal to Trump and Bondi, insisting that her “fight” will expand, not ebb.

This isn’t a saga unique to New Jersey. Similar disputes have been playing out in federal courts from Virginia to California, with the administration’s reliance on acting appointments increasingly under judicial fire. In Virginia, Lindsey Halligan faced a parallel legal hurdle and was also ordered out of her role as acting U.S. attorney. Other federal prosecutors appointed without Senate blessing—especially those who exceeded their acting terms—have found themselves similarly sidelined.

Critics argue these appointments are more about sidestepping democratic oversight than filling gaps. For Trump’s critics, it’s just the latest effort to plant loyalists in key jobs. Defenders of the administration, though, see judicial interference where there ought to be deference to executive authority. It’s a deepening constitutional debate, echoing through the halls of federal courthouses and the corridors of power alike.

For Habba personally, the limelight has never been too far off. Her prior involvement in Trump’s civil cases—some of them ending with court-imposed penalties—made her a lightning rod long before her brief stint as New Jersey’s top prosecutor. In office, she tried to make a mark, bringing charges against local elected officials—a mayor and a member of Congress—but saw both efforts falter.

In the end, the real story isn’t just about one lawyer’s short-lived appointment. It’s about the persistent tension between the president’s desire for control, the courts’ insistence on legality, and the Senate’s jealous guarding of its prerogatives. The blue slip custom, once seen as a formality, has become a high-stakes weapon of partisan warfare. The result, for now, is uncertainty—for Habba, for New Jersey, and for the broader justice system.

What’s next? There’s no clear answer. Bondi, Trump, and their allies appear ready to fight on. The courts could shift again—or not. One thing feels certain: this debate about the boundaries of executive and judicial power is only growing more urgent. For those watching the evolution of federal law enforcement and the separation of powers, New Jersey’s recent turmoil offers a bracing glimpse of how unfinished this national conversation remains.

Alina Habba’s tenure as the federal prosecutor in New Jersey ended almost as abruptly as it began, and with more drama than most in Washington anticipated. Only months ago, Habba stepped into the top prosecutor’s seat for the District of New Jersey, her résumé flashing a blend of small-firm civil cases and prominent roles in Donald Trump’s legal fights. Yet this week, citing a pair of bruising court rulings, Habba handed in her resignation—though not, as she put it, her resolve.The heart of the matter wasn’t about the cases she brought or left unfinished, but rather how she got the job in the first place. Habba, who took office in March, was first tapped for a 120-day interim term. When that clock ran out, Trump’s team, undeterred, shifted her status to “acting” U.S. attorney—a not-uncommon workaround. Soon enough, federal judges weighed in. District Judge Matthew Brann, first to rule, wrote that Habba’s continued service didn’t square with federal law. A Third Circuit panel agreed, and none of the judges seemed inclined to split hairs over the technicalities.Somewhat surprisingly, the Justice Department hasn’t yet decided to appeal, at least for now. Habba, unfazed in her public statements, took to social media: “Do not mistake compliance for surrender,” she wrote. Her resignation, she claimed, was not about giving in but about ensuring the office itself wasn’t entangled in uncertainty. There was promise, too, that this would not be her last word in the department.The reaction in political circles was swift, if predictable. Pam Bondi, the Attorney General and loyal Trump ally, responded with disappointment—“flawed,” she called the court ruling—and stressed that the administration would still push for Habba’s return, should the legal tides shift. Meanwhile, Trump himself took a characteristically dim view of the process. “It makes it impossible to appoint a judge or a U.S. attorney,” he declared, venting at a press gathering about what he described as a broken system strangled by tradition and Senate custom.The real snag lies in the rules: U.S. attorneys are supposed to be vetted and confirmed by the Senate, and home-state senators, via their so-called blue slips, can stall or block a nomination. In New Jersey, that means Cory Booker and Andy Kim—both Democrats—hold considerable sway. For a White House seeking friendly faces in prosecutor seats, it’s a political minefield.With Habba out, three career DOJ lawyers—Philip Lamparello, Jordan Foxas, and Ari Fontecchio—will divide the office’s leadership for now. Todd Blanche, the Deputy Attorney General, issued a steadying hand, making clear the department still had faith in its lineup. It was an attempt, perhaps, to soothe nerves rattled by the shuffle and to restore some semblance of continuity.Despite the headlines, Habba isn’t leaving government service entirely. She’ll stay on as a senior advisor, standing by as the courts—and the administration—sort out the limits of presidential authority over these appointments. She remains, by all accounts, staunchly loyal to Trump and Bondi, insisting that her “fight” will expand, not ebb.This isn’t a saga unique to New Jersey. Similar disputes have been playing out in federal courts from Virginia to California, with the administration’s reliance on acting appointments increasingly under judicial fire. In Virginia, Lindsey Halligan faced a parallel legal hurdle and was also ordered out of her role as acting U.S. attorney. Other federal prosecutors appointed without Senate blessing—especially those who exceeded their acting terms—have found themselves similarly sidelined.Critics argue these appointments are more about sidestepping democratic oversight than filling gaps. For Trump’s critics, it’s just the latest effort to plant loyalists in key jobs. Defenders of the administration, though, see judicial interference where there ought to be deference to executive authority. It’s a deepening constitutional debate, echoing through the halls of federal courthouses and the corridors of power alike.For Habba personally, the limelight has never been too far off. Her prior involvement in Trump’s civil cases—some of them ending with court-imposed penalties—made her a lightning rod long before her brief stint as New Jersey’s top prosecutor. In office, she tried to make a mark, bringing charges against local elected officials—a mayor and a member of Congress—but saw both efforts falter.In the end, the real story isn’t just about one lawyer’s short-lived appointment. It’s about the persistent tension between the president’s desire for control, the courts’ insistence on legality, and the Senate’s jealous guarding of its prerogatives. The blue slip custom, once seen as a formality, has become a high-stakes weapon of partisan warfare. The result, for now, is uncertainty—for Habba, for New Jersey, and for the broader justice system.What’s next? There’s no clear answer. Bondi, Trump, and their allies appear ready to fight on. The courts could shift again—or not. One thing feels certain: this debate about the boundaries of executive and judicial power is only growing more urgent. For those watching the evolution of federal law enforcement and the separation of powers, New Jersey’s recent turmoil offers a bracing glimpse of how unfinished this national conversation remains.