“There’s something happening here,
what it is ain’t exactly clear…”
— Buffalo Springfield, (“For What It’s Worth”)

I am willing to bet that most Marylanders reading this article have never heard of the “AHEAD Initiative.”

You are not alone. There was no bill introduced. No legislative hearing was held. There was no floor debate. No up or down vote in the Maryland General Assembly. 

Despite its sweeping scope and massive potential cost, the AHEAD Initiative, short for Advancing All Payer Health Equity Approaches and Development, entered Maryland’s policy bloodstream with barely a whisper. And yet, it may prove to be the most consequential and financially burdensome healthcare program Maryland has undertaken since the creation of Medicaid.

So… what is AHEAD?

AHEAD is a new federal health reform model designed by the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services. It aims to control healthcare costs, improve equity, and restructure how states deliver and pay for care by blending clinical services with social programs, such as housing assistance, food access, transportation support, and behavioral health integration.

In other words, it transforms the traditional health care model into a sweeping platform for population-level social engineering.

In early 2024, Maryland became the first state in the country to be approved for participation in the AHEAD program. The Moore administration signed onto this large spending commitment without legislative approval. Incredibly, none was required. The agreement was struck between Governor Wes Moore, then-Health Secretary Dr. Laura Herrera Scott, and the Biden Administration. Its goal is to redesign substantial portions of Maryland’s health care infrastructure and deliver specific cost savings and “equity outcomes” over the next decade.

Maryland is now the pilot project. The national laboratory. The guinea pig.

It is important to understand that AHEAD is layered on top of Maryland’s existing and already unique “all-payer” hospital system. Under the all-payer model, Maryland is the only state in the country where all insurers (including private plans, Medicare, and Medicaid) are required to pay the same fixed rates for hospital services, which are set by a state regulatory commission. This unified payment structure reduces administrative complexity, limits cost growth, and stabilizes hospital revenues. 

In return, Maryland receives billions of federal dollars and holds a rare federal waiver to set Medicare rates independently. It has worked successfully for decades.

Notwithstanding, AHEAD goes far beyond hospital billing and payment reform. It obliges Maryland to integrate a much broader range of social services into its health care delivery model, with services not previously covered by the longstanding all-payer system. 

These additional social services include publicly funded non-clinical programs such as permanent supportive housing for chronically ill individuals, food delivery for at-risk populations, ride services for medical and non-medical appointments, expanded behavioral and addiction services, and community-based care coordination efforts. 

The state is now responsible for building the infrastructure to manage and fund these services on a large scale.

But here is the part that should give every taxpayer pause: this new framework was not enacted through the democratic process. AHEAD was not introduced in a bill. It was not voted on by your elected representatives. It did not pass through a committee, nor did it undergo rigorous legislative fiscal impact analysis reviewed by the Legislature’s budget analysts or the public.

Instead, it was adopted through an executive agreement. And with it, Maryland has committed to a nine-year comprehensive transformation of its healthcare delivery system, with an unknown and potentially unsustainable price tag.

AHEAD requires Maryland to build out new regional bureaucracies, expand primary care subsidies, and integrate state-funded social services into Medicaid and other payer systems.

Looks like window dressing for a Moore presidential campaign at your expense, doesn’t it?

While federal startup money is modest (just twelve million dollars over several years), the actual long-term obligations for the state are wide open. While no official fiscal note has been released, and no regulations have been proposed, it is reasonable to expect that Maryland’s obligations under AHEAD could reach hundreds of millions, and potentially over one billion dollars annually, as the state expands its responsibility for housing, transportation, and other non-medical services tied to federally mandated “health equity” goals.

This is all happening while Maryland already faces a projected multibillion-dollar structural deficit, compounded by unfunded education mandates under the Blueprint for Maryland’s Future. AHEAD may be the second fiscal time bomb waiting to explode in taxpayers’ wallets, this time buried in the health care budget instead of the schools.

The state will be required to meet stringent federal performance benchmarks. If Maryland falls short, the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services can revoke its waiver authority to set Medicare rates, a unique power Maryland has held for decades. That could destabilize hospital revenues across the state.  Hospitals could potentially close.

Things could be worse… the Trump Administration could discover the one-of-a-kind deal Maryland has with its all-payer system and question why Maryland (a deep blue state) gets billions of federal dollars to pay for the uninsured, underinsured, and hospital write-offs, and eliminate our decades-old successful system. The AHEAD program and all the traditional costs all other states bear will then fall back onto Maryland taxpayers… and insurance premium payers. 

If the Trump administration decides to retreat from the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services’ AHEAD model, Maryland could be left with massive programmatic costs and no federal backstop to help fund them. All of this is happening under the radar, without public scrutiny or proper transparency. 

Sometimes the guinea pig gets slaughtered.

Does anyone remember the Governor or the Secretary of Health discussing this on the news or in any open forum where questions may be asked of them? 

I do not recall any town hall, public briefing, or televised announcement explaining the goals, the risks, or the cost. A program that obligates the state to spend this much tax money over a decade should have been widely advertised with the enthusiasm of an elementary school ribbon cutting… especially if it is such an “impressive” revolutionary program.

I once remember a Governor who said he believed in transparency. I remember promises of open government, listening tours, accountability to the people, and governing in the sunlight rather than behind closed doors. 

Transparency, however, is not what you say after the fact. It is what you practice before the commitment is made. Transparency requires that you trust citizens enough to tell them what you are doing before you obligate their tax dollars, especially on a massive scale.

So here are a few questions worth asking; questions that Governor Moore and his team should answer.

• How much will the AHEAD Initiative cost Maryland taxpayers annually by the year 2033?
• What services or programs will be reduced or eliminated to pay for it?
• What guardrails are in place to prevent uncontrolled spending growth?
• Why was the General Assembly bypassed entirely for something of this magnitude?
• What specific services is the state now obligated to provide under AHEAD that were not previously offered?
• How will AHEAD’s success or failure be publicly measured, and who will be held accountable if it falls short?
• What bureaucratic infrastructure is proposed, and what regulations are being promulgated for this initiative?

Marylanders deserve an honest discussion about the costs and tradeoffs of this initiative, not just slogans about “equity and innovation.” Because eventually, someone will have to pay for it. And that someone will be the Maryland taxpayer.

If the Governor believes this is a sustainable, transparent, efficient, and affordable approach to health care reform, he should make the case openly, publicly, and with quantifiable numbers.

Until then, the AHEAD Initiative will remain what it already is: the largest state spending program you have never heard of.

Clayton A. Mitchell, Sr. is a life-long Eastern Shoreman, an attorney, and former Chairman of the Maryland Department of Labor’s Board of Appeals.  He is co-host of the Gonzales/Mitchell Show podcast that discusses politics, business, and cultural issues.

“He’s a real nowhere man,
Sitting in his nowhere land,
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody.”

–  The Beatles (“Nowhere Man”)

Electric bills across Maryland are set to rise again this July. This is not an isolated spike or a seasonal adjustment – it is part of an ominous emerging trend that increasingly burdens working families. 

The cost of energy continues to climb, and yet the state’s current energy policy offers no immediate relief. In fact, the policies promoted by Governor Wes Moore may very well make the problem worse.

Baltimore Gas and Electric customers, for example, are expected to see an increase of about $16 per month, with other utility providers facing similar jumps. This news comes from reporting by Christine Condon of Maryland Matters, who has tracked the legislative and regulatory developments behind these hikes. 

Condon notes that while consumers brace for higher costs, state leaders, including Governor Moore, are promoting a sweeping energy reform package as a step forward. But for many Marylanders, the direction forward is unclear, and the destination looks increasingly unaffordable.

The centerpiece of this new agenda is the Next Generation Energy Act, which aims to increase in-state energy production and battery storage while capping certain utility expenditures. The law’s stated goal is to curb rising rates and modernize the grid. Yet even supporters of the bill admit that the state has not built up enough alternative energy sources to replace the fossil fuel infrastructure it is retiring. 

The imbalance is already evident – and it is Maryland ratepayers who are left to pay the price.

To mitigate some of the cost pressure, the law pulls $200 million from a renewable energy compliance fund to issue partial rebates to consumers of roughly $80 per household, split into two payments. But as Condon points out, this rebate is merely a temporary cushion against what is becoming a long-term problem: a shrinking energy supply and an unstable regulatory strategy.

One of the more controversial aspects of Moore’s energy agenda is that the Renewable Energy Certainty Act overrides local zoning rules to streamline the siting of commercial solar farms. The law has drawn strong bipartisan opposition, especially from rural legislators who argue that it threatens productive farmland and local autonomy. 

It raises a serious question: why is the state preempting local land-use decisions to accelerate an energy plan that has yet to demonstrate reliability or affordability?

The pushback has not only come from rural Republicans. As Maryland Matters reports, 87 state legislators signed a letter urging the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission to block the rate increases tied to a flawed PJM energy auction held last year. The auction failed to account for two Maryland fossil-fuel plants that were still in operation, leading to inflated prices that will now be passed on to consumers, along with an additional charge to keep those same plants online. 

According to David Lapp, Maryland’s People’s Counsel, ratepayers are effectively paying twice: once for the energy and again to preserve emergency capacity.

Oddly, while Governor Moore supported sweeping legislation on energy infrastructure, he chose to veto one of the least controversial components of the broader package: the creation of a Strategic Energy Planning Office. 

The veto surprised many in the legislature, including Senator Katie Fry Hester, who sponsored the bill. Moore cited costs as the reason. Yet the office would have been funded by the same revenue source that supports the Public Service Commission and the People’s Counsel – offices directly responsible for protecting consumers from excessive rate increases. 

This decision undermines the idea that the Moore administration is serious about long-term planning.

Environmental and consumer groups have offered mixed reactions. Some, like Maryland PIRG, have applauded new limits on natural gas expansion and excessive utility spending. Others, however, have expressed concern over provisions that may fast-track new fossil fuel infrastructure, or weaken oversight of incineration subsidies.

The solar energy bill has generated vehement backlash in areas like the Eastern Shore, where local governments are now sidelined in favor of a one-size-fits-all approach to renewable development. This top-down strategy disregards local needs and sacrifices flexibility in pursuit of policy goals that remain unproven at scale.

It is important to stress that most Marylanders support renewable energy when it is implemented responsibly. The concern is not with the concept of cleaner energy, but with the current pace and structure of implementation. Governor Moore’s energy policy appears more focused on headlines than outcomes. Ambitious goals are paired with insufficient infrastructure, and the burden is repeatedly shifted to households that are already financially stretched thin.

Maryland is not yet prepared to meet its energy needs with renewables alone. By accelerating the retirement of traditional power sources without building sufficient alternatives, the state risks chronic instability in both energy supply and pricing. Until those gaps are addressed with pragmatic, data-driven solutions, no legislative press release will change the facts on the ground… or the numbers on a utility bill.

If the goal is truly energy affordability, then Governor Moore’s policies must be re-evaluated not by political aspiration, but by economic impact. As it stands, the average Marylander is being asked to fund a policy vision that has not been grounded in practical realities. That is not leadership. That is risk without accountability.

So again, I ask: does anyone really believe Governor Moore’s energy policies will work for anyone outside the politically connected class in Annapolis?

Clayton A. Mitchell, Sr. is a life-long Eastern Shoreman, an attorney, and former Chairman of the Maryland Department of Labor’s Board of Appeals.  He is co-host of the Gonzales/Mitchell Show podcast that discusses politics, business, and cultural issues. 

You say you got a real solution
Well, you know…
We’d all love to see the plan
      – The Beatles (“Revolution”)

Governor Wes Moore would like the public to believe that he is the adult in the room. That after another tax-and-spend session of the General Assembly, he alone had the resolve to pull out the veto pen, allegedly for the good of the State.

But the question deserves to be asked plainly: Where was he during the legislative session? And why did he not speak up when his voice was needed?

Throughout the ninety days of session, the Moore administration stood silently while progressive legislators pushed forward a wave of fiscally reckless, ideologically indulgent, and structurally unsound legislation. And now, with the session over and the headlines fading, the Governor wishes to appear as the calm, reasonable figure reining it all in. It is a performance, not a demonstration of leadership.

Governor Moore’s vetoes are not acts of principle; they are acts of political theater. He allowed flawed legislation to move through both chambers, knowing full well their implications, only to veto a few select measures at the eleventh hour.

This is not courage — it is choreography. He is attempting to build a narrative in which he is seen as moderate, measured, and judicious. In reality, he chose to say nothing while his allies in the legislature carried the weight, and now he throws them under the bus to elevate his own image.

This strategy is as cynical as it is transparent.

By remaining quiet during the formation of policy and emerging only at the end to cast vetoes, Governor Moore sidesteps the difficult work of governing. He wants the credit for responsibility without accepting the burden of responsibility. He prefers the applause of pundits to the trust of the people.

Let there be no mistake: real leadership requires presence. It requires engagement during the debates, not grandstanding after the fact. The Governor had every opportunity to voice objections, to shape legislation, to lead.

He chose instead to build a Potemkin village of moderation—a facade of fiscal sensibility and pragmatic governance, constructed on a foundation of silence and passivity.

Marylanders are not fooled. They understand that vetoes made in May do not erase the absence of leadership in January, February, March, and April. They know that the Governor’s failure to confront his party’s excesses during the session is not redeemed by carefully orchestrated vetoes months later.

Governor Moore is not governing—he is auditioning. These late-stage vetoes are not acts of statesmanship but steps in a calculated rebranding effort, designed to position himself for future ambition.

He is more concerned with national optics than with the day-to-day consequences of his inaction on working Maryland families.

And so the question remains: Where were you, Governor? Why did you not speak up when it mattered? Why did you wait until your Democratic colleagues did the heavy lifting before deciding to distance yourself and abandon them?

This is not leadership. This is image management. And I say once again… Maryland deserves better.

Clayton A. Mitchell, Sr., is a lifelong Eastern Shoreman, an attorney, and the former Chairman of the Maryland Department of Labor’s Board of Appeals. He is also the co-host of the Gonzales/Mitchell Show podcast, which discusses politics, business, and cultural issues. 

For years, Democratic voters in Maryland have been asked to fall in line. You are told who the frontrunner is. You are handed the talking points. You are expected to get excited about style over substance, slogans over solutions. And if you question the machine’s chosen candidate, you are labeled a traitor to the cause.

But not this time.

This time, you may have a real choice.

Veteran businessman Ed Hale is not a polished career politician or a darling of the Annapolis donor circuit. He is a businessman, a job creator, and a Blue Dog Democrat who knows how the real world works. He has balanced budgets in the boardroom, not on a spreadsheet filled with gimmicks. He has met a payroll. He has had to make hard decisions when the economy turned south, not issue a press release and wait for someone else to clean up the mess.

In short, Ed Hale is the adult in the room.

While Governor Wes Moore continues to govern by press conference—rolling out sweeping mandates like the state’s 100% clean energy deadline without a viable plan to protect working families from skyrocketing utility costs—Ed Hale brings a practical, clear-eyed approach. Moore tells Marylanders what sounds good. Hale tells them what will actually work.

As sure as the sun rises in the morning, the structural deficit will rear its ugly head again in January 2026. Governor Moore has not shown the intestinal fortitude to cut the budget to levels in proportion to economic reality. On the opening day of the session in 2026, the governor will open up the cash drawer and find it empty. 

Governor Moore faces increasing mandatory Kirwan funding obligations, mounting payments for child-abuse settlements stemming from juvenile justice failures, and ballooning energy costs due to the importation of electricity from other states—a consequence of his misplaced green energy agenda. Ed Hale will not put up with this. He understands that government must live within its means, just as families and businesses do.

Moore soared into office on the wings of charisma and a compelling personal story—but he has governed like a progressive influencer rather than a practical executive. His administration has prioritized performative politics and lofty rhetoric while working families in Maryland struggle to keep up with rising costs, broken schools, and a state government increasingly out of touch with rural, suburban, and even urban voters alike.

Moore talks about “leaving no one behind,” yet he has governed with a narrow, ideological lens that leaves many Democrats… and Republicans… feeling invisible. His energy mandates and labor programs are designed for headlines, not households. And under his leadership, the gap between state priorities and ordinary people’s needs has only widened.

Ed Hale represents a different path. One grounded not in theory, but in results. He is not beholden to the activist wing of the party or the donor class. He answers to the people who wake up early, go to work, raise families, and simply want a government that functions. 

Ed Hale is a voice for ordinary Democrats who still believe in fiscal responsibility, economic opportunity, and common-sense governance.  A government that does not overpromise, underdeliver, and engage in academic frolics that end with the middle-class taxpayers paying the tab.

He will not promise you the moon. He will promise you something better: a governor who listens, works, and understands that leadership is about service, not self-promotion. I believe that Ed Hale has the capability to stabilize not only the Democratic Party, but also an out-of-control state bureaucracy.

Maryland Democrats deserve more than a coronation. They deserve a contest. They deserve a choice.  

This time, you will more than likely not just have a candidate. You will have a real choice.

Clayton A. Mitchell, Sr. is a life-long Eastern Shoreman, an attorney, and former Chairman of the Maryland Department of Labor’s Board of Appeals.  He is co-host of the Gonzales/Mitchell Show podcast that discusses politics, business, and cultural issues. 

If you try to drive… I’ll tax the street
If you try to sit…  I’ll tax your seat
If you get too cold… I’ll tax the heat
If you take a walk… I’ll tax your feet
… Taxman!

-The Beatles

Governor Wes Moore once said raising taxes in Maryland would be a “high bar” for him. After this year’s legislative session, it seems the bar was not merely lowered, it was rolled into a ditch.

In a single session, Moore and his Democrats managed to assemble the most sweeping array of tax increases and new fees in a generation. They taxed your paycheck. They taxed your investments. They taxed your car, your ride-share, your vending machine snack, and your delivery package. They taxed your rental property, your cannabis, and—just for good measure—your next data and IT service invoice. Marylanders can be forgiven for wondering whether they will soon be taxed for breathing air east of Hoye-Crest in Garrett County.

The justification for this assault on taxpayers? A $3 billion budget shortfall. But rather than look inward—at the flabby mass of Maryland’s administrative bureaucracy, its duplicative programs, its gilded agencies—the Moore administration reached, predictably, for the taxpayer’s wallet. 

Not once in this budget cycle did we witness a serious effort to reorganize or reform government. Not one cabinet agency was consolidated. Not one sacred cow slaughtered.

Instead, the General Assembly raised income taxes on so-called “high earners”—code for small business owners, professionals, and retirees who saved a lifetime and now find Maryland penalizing them for their prudence. A 6.5% tax on income over $1 million may sound just to some, but don’t be fooled: when government needs more, that threshold will creep lower.

Capital gains? Now surcharged. Recreational cannabis? Taxed at a rate that would make a bootlegger blush. Even the Maryland Vehicle Emissions Inspection fee—previously a tolerable $14—was doubled, a punishment for the privilege of owning a car. And if you were trying to go green with an electric vehicle, congratulations: the state now charges you up to $182 a year for using fewer fossil fuels. That’s not policy. That’s predation.

All this might be more tolerable if these dollars were dedicated with discipline. Instead, they are poured into an ever-growing web of programs designed less to reform Maryland’s foundations than to cement political coalitions. A taxpayer-funded abortion fund. A reparations commission. A permanent young adult health subsidy. More consultants. More commissions. More bureaucracy.

What’s missing from all of this is the simple, bracing discipline of doing more with less. Maryland’s government has not been right-sized. It has not been restructured. No brave hand has reached into the bloated machinery of state to blare out, “Stop!”

And so, the taxpayer is asked again—and again—to carry the burden of Annapolis’ indulgences. The danger for the Governor and his Democrats in the Legislature is not only in what they’ve done… it’s what they’ll do next. 

Because if, in 2026, Governor Moore’s Democrats return to the citizens of Maryland and ask for more—more taxes, more fees, more patience—they will find none. They will find something else. They will find a voter who is fed up. A business owner who is closing shop. A retiree headed for Delaware. They will find a reckoning.

And when it comes, it will not arrive with a whisper—but with a roar loud enough to shake the marble columns of the Government House.

Clayton A. Mitchell, Sr. is a life-long Eastern Shoreman, an attorney, and former Chairman of the Maryland Department of Labor’s Board of Appeals.  He is co-host of the Gonzales/Mitchell Show podcast that discusses politics, business, and cultural issues. 

Kent County is fortunate to have commissioners willing to lead. Let us give credit where it is due: the April 15 meeting called by the Kent County Commissioners was a textbook example of local government doing its job. As Kent County News reporter Will Bontrager chronicled in detail, Commission President Ron Fithian and his colleagues brought state and local officials into the public square and demanded accountability for the bureaucratic paralysis that is choking economic development in the county.

In twenty-seven years of public service, Fithian said he has never seen this level of frustration from constituents. And who could blame them? Contractors cannot build homes, developers are losing deals, and landowners are stuck in limbo—all because they cannot get a simple percolation test, the first step in obtaining a septic permit.

The permitting system is broken. And the Commissioners are saying so out loud.

The commissioners’ leadership in confronting the Kent County Health Department and the Maryland Department of the Environment (MDE) is a welcome change. The Commissioners will demand follow-through, and that is where the real test begins. Because while the commissioners have stepped up, the bureaucratic system beneath them must stop dragging its feet.

As Bontrager reported, Kent County has not had a licensed well-and-septic specialist on staff since June 2023. Meanwhile, MDE inspectors brought in to pick up the slack uncovered missing data, incomplete files, and inadequate recordkeeping going back decades. So yes, protecting groundwater is important—but what about protecting Kent County’s future?

Contrast this mess with what is happening just thirty minutes away in Middletown, Delaware. That once-sleepy town is now Delaware’s fastest-growing area, with a booming population, a thriving U.S. 301 commercial corridor, new housing developments, and even an Amazon fulfillment center. Middletown is attracting investment, families, and opportunities. Kent County, by comparison, is turning people away at the gate.

Builders here are losing business. Homeowners cannot rebuild on their own land. Developers cannot invest, because permits never arrive. A real estate agent testified to an eighteen-month wait for a single perc test—and no answers in sight. Middletown builds; Kent County waits. Middletown adds police forces and infrastructure; Kent County loses revenue and opportunity. Middletown makes growth work. Kent County makes excuses.

We are watching Kent’s economic engine sputter while Delaware accelerates past us. This is not theoretical. It is not a debate over policy. It is happening now—and we are falling behind fast.

To be fair, Health Officer Bill Webb and MDE’s Nony Howell have offered some interim solutions: clearer documentation, office hours for case-by-case issues, and continued state assistance while staffing shortages persist. These are fine first steps—but they are not structural reform. And they will not matter if the culture of delay, confusion, and cover-your-backside recordkeeping is not rooted out.

Bontrager’s reporting made it clear: Kent County residents are not objecting to environmental protections—they are objecting to incompetence. One cannot defend missing files and glacial timelines with appeals to “science.” And one cannot build a county’s future on a system that does not work.

The Commissioners have done their part by shining a light on this disaster. Now the agencies responsible must do theirs—and they must be held to it. Because right now, Kent County is becoming the place where projects die, and investments flee. And unless that changes, we will keep watching our growth, our jobs, and our young people disappear—heading north to a town that knows how to say yes.

The Kent County Commissioners have made it clear: they will not tolerate this dysfunction indefinitely, and if meaningful progress is not made soon, they appear more than willing to pursue stronger, more decisive action to ensure their constituents are not left behind.

Clayton A. Mitchell, Sr. is a life-long Eastern Shoreman, an attorney, and former Chairman of the Maryland Department of Labor’s Board of Appeals.  He is co-host of the Gonzales/Mitchell Show podcast that discusses politics, business, and cultural issues. 

When I wrote recently about the case of Abrego Garcia and the appearance of due process shortcomings that surround modern immigration enforcement, a volume of well-meaning comments flooded in, I invited thoughtful comments and criticisms, as the article showed my understanding of this complicated case and the governing law.  Several readers had valid criticisms (see postscript below).  All the comments demonstrated that on every segment of the political spectrum, this is an important issue for all of us to discuss.

Many readers asked some version of this question: “How can the government deport someone without giving them their day in court?”   It is a fair question. 

In the American imagination, due process means a judge, a jury, and a fair fight. But that is not always how it works—especially if you are an undocumented immigrant. The reality is that under laws passed with bipartisan support, and used by both Democratic and Republican administrations, the federal government has the legal authority to deport many people without a hearing before an immigration judge.

The modern framework for immigration enforcement comes from a law signed by President Bill Clinton in 1996: the Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act. This law created a process called “expedited removal”, which allows immigration officers—not judges—to summarily deport individuals caught entering the United States without proper documents.

Initially, this power applied only to people arriving at ports of entry or caught within fourteen days of illegal entry. But every president since has either expanded its scope or sustained its use. President George W. Bush broadened it to people found within one hundred miles of the border. President Barack Obama used it selectively while focusing on high priority matters. President Donald Trump has attempted to unleash its full potential, expanding it nationwide to include anyone who could not prove they had been in the United States for two years or more.

In other words, the ability of the executive branch to bypass the courts and deport people on the spot is not a new invention. It is the product of nearly three decades of bipartisan policy.

Critics often ask how this process can be legal under the Constitution’s guarantee of due process. The answer is that non-citizens who have not been lawfully admitted to the United States have fewer constitutional protections, particularly in immigration proceedings, which are civil, not criminal.

Still, expedited removal includes a narrow exception: asylum. If a migrant expresses a demonstrable fear of persecution or torture, they are entitled to (1) a screening by an asylum officer and, if they pass that screening, (2) a full hearing before an immigration judge. But if they do not assert asylum—or do not know to ask for asylum—they may be removed in a matter of hours, without a lawyer or even a phone call.

Some readers might be surprised to learn that this system has not only been used by multiple administrations but has also been upheld as lawful by the federal judiciary. In Make the Road New York v. Wolf, 962 F.3d 612 (D.C. Cir. 2020), the D.C. Circuit Court upheld the Trump administration’s expansion of expedited removal to apply to undocumented immigrants found anywhere in the country who could not prove they had been in the United States for two years. 

The court concluded that the Department of Homeland Security had lawful authority to expand expedited removal under the Immigration and Nationality Act, and that such expansion was not subject to judicial review under the Administrative Procedure Act. Importantly, the court also held that the plaintiffs lacked a valid constitutional claim because individuals who had not been lawfully admitted to the United States do not enjoy full due process rights under the Constitution.

The Supreme Court declined to hear the case, effectively allowing that decision to stand. Thus, the courts affirmed that immigration officers—not judges—may carry out removals in these circumstances, with limited procedural safeguards.

That ruling was consistent with the Supreme Court’s decision just weeks earlier in Department of Homeland Security v. Thuraissigiam, 591 U.S. ___, 140 S. Ct. 1959 (2020). In that case, the Court held that a Sri Lankan asylum seeker apprehended shortly after illegally crossing the border did not have a constitutional right to full habeas corpus review or a judicial hearing before expedited removal.  The Court reasoned that individuals who enter the country unlawfully and have not been admitted do not acquire the kind of legal standing that would entitle them to the full protections of due process. The expedited removal statute, the Court concluded, does not violate the Constitution’s Due Process Clause or Suspension Clause when applied to recent unlawful entrants who lack lawful admission or significant ties to the country.

Taken together, these decisions reinforce a legal reality that many Americans do not fully understand: the federal government may lawfully remove certain undocumented immigrants without a judicial hearing, especially if they have recently entered the country and lack strong legal or physical ties to it.

What we now have is a legal process that permits what most Americans would find antithetical to their values: a system where liberty can be taken without trial, if the person is here illegally and falls within certain enforcement categories.

Whether one believes this system is necessary for border security or an affront to American values, it deserves an honest debate. It is neither accurate nor helpful to throw around accusations of fascism or authoritarianism every time a migrant is deported without a courtroom drama.  At the same time, those who champion strong immigration enforcement must grapple with the moral weight of a due process procedure that operates under Constitutional authority and laws upheld by the courts, which sometimes sacrifice fairness for speed.

If we are to be a nation of laws, we must also be a nation that understands the laws we pass and how they are used.  

Postscript: In the prior article discussing the case of Kilmar Abrego Garcia, I included a paragraph that several readers rightly noted lacked appropriate attribution to accessible public documents. The paragraph read:

“However, this legal sanctuary was not absolute. In June 2020, Immigration Judge Jones apparently vacated the 2019 ruling based on newly submitted derogatory evidence. The court purportedly reinstated the final order of removal to El Salvador. The specifics of this reversal are not detailed in public sources, but the court reportedly held a hearing, considered the evidence, and issued another decision—hallmarks of procedural due process.” 

Mea culpa. This content should not have been included without appropriate references to publicly accessible sources. I regret the error in judgment, and I apologize.

Clayton A. Mitchell, Sr., is a lifelong Eastern Shoreman, an attorney, and former Chairman of the Maryland Department of Labor’s Board of Appeals.  He is co-host of the Gonzales/Mitchell Show podcast that discusses politics, business, and cultural issues. 

If one were to believe Senator Chris Van Hollen, the tale of Kilmar Abrego Garcia is a constitutional melodrama fit for a Frank Capra screenplay—replete with high-minded allusions to liberty and due process, starring the senator himself as the stoic guardian of American ideals. But as with many modern tragedies staged for political theater, the facts—and the law—complicate the narrative.

Let us begin with the constitutional core: due process. The Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments guarantee that no person shall be deprived of “life, liberty, or property without due process of law.” That these guarantees extend to non-citizens is not speculative but judicially affirmed—Yick Wo v. Hopkins and Wong Wing v. United States remain stalwart precedents. And yet, due process is not an amorphous invocation. It is a defined standard, and its contours are best measured by the Supreme Court’s test in Mathews v. Eldridge.

Under Mathews, courts must balance three factors: (1) the individual’s interest affected by official action, (2) the risk of erroneous deprivation under current procedures and the probable value of additional safeguards, and (3) the government’s interest in efficiency and fiscal constraint. The application of this test in immigration matters has been clarified in cases like Landon v. Plasencia, which found that even returning legal residents must receive fundamentally fair exclusion procedures.

So how does Mr. Abrego Garcia fare under this framework? Let us examine the facts and the history of this case.

Kilmar Abrego Garcia, now 29, fled extortion and death threats from Barrio 18 gang members in El Salvador and entered the U.S. illegally around 2011 at age 16. He lived in Maryland for over a decade. In 2018, he moved in with Jennifer Vasquez Sura and her two children in Beltsville, Maryland, after learning she was pregnant.

In 2019, Immigration Judge David M. Jones granted him “withholding of removal” status, concluding there was a “clear probability of future persecution” should he be returned to El Salvador. The court found his testimony credible and documentation substantial. While this protection did not equate to asylum or citizenship, it did block deportation to El Salvador and permitted removal only to a third country willing to receive him. DHS did not appeal, and he received a work permit—living legally in Maryland.

However, this legal sanctuary was not absolute. In June 2020, Immigration Judge Jones apparently vacated the 2019 ruling based on newly submitted derogatory evidence. The court purportedly reinstated the final order of removal to El Salvador. The specifics of this reversal are not detailed in public sources, but the court reportedly held a hearing, considered the evidence, and issued another decision—hallmarks of procedural due process. [Citation: Matter of Kilmar Abrego Garcia, A 206 908 780 (Immigration Court, Baltimore, MD, June 5, 2020). Unpublished, but part of the administrative record reviewed by subsequent courts.]

In 2022, Abrego Garcia was stopped by authorities in Tennessee with eight passengers, all claiming the same Maryland address. Homeland Security suspected human trafficking. A 2019 Prince George’s County Police Gang Unit report identified him as a member of MS-13, and court records documented a history of violent domestic abuse.

On March 12, 2025, Abrego Garcia was detained by ICE outside an Ikea store in Prince George’s County after picking up his 5-year-old son from school. His wife was told to retrieve their son or Child Protective Services would be contacted. According to her, his last words were: “Si fueres fuerte, yo seré fuerte”— “I’ll be strong if you are.” He was not informed of the reason for his arrest.

Under the Trump administration, removal proceedings were reactivated, and Abrego Garcia was deported to Centro de Confinamiento del Terrorismo (CECOT), El Salvador’s notorious mega-prison.

Senator Van Hollen soon boarded a plane to El Salvador, presenting himself as the constitutional conscience of the moment. He claimed Abrego Garcia had been moved to a milder facility in Santa Ana before his arrival and now enjoys a room with a bed and furniture. The senator asserted that the Trump administration had “defied court orders” and “denied one man his Constitutional rights,” casting Abrego Garcia as a civil rights martyr.

The case has since morphed into a confrontation between the judiciary and the executive. U.S. District Judge Paula Xinis and later the Supreme Court ordered the federal government to “facilitate” Abrego Garcia’s return. The Supreme Court has declared that the case must proceed as if Abrego Garcia had never been deported. 

But the practical and diplomatic stalemate remains.  Attorney General Pam Bondi declared that while the U.S. may lift administrative barriers, the final say belongs to El Salvador. El Salvador, under President Nayib Bukele, refused to return Abrego Garcia.

What a mess!

What is disconcerting is not that Senator Van Hollen intervened, but that his compassion appears so asymmetrical. In 2023, Rachel Morin, a Maryland mother of five, was murdered by an illegal immigrant. Her mother, Patty, still awaits a call from the senator.  The White House offered a visual contrast: Van Hollen, seated beside Abrego Garcia in El Salvador; Trump, consoling a grieving Maryland mother. The caption read: “We are not the same.”

The Due Process Clause is not a talisman to be invoked when politically convenient. It is a solemn guarantee, rooted in Anglo-American jurisprudence and clarified by generations of precedent. It applies to all persons—but it does not excuse all behavior.

Mr. Abrego Garcia may be the beneficiary of administrative procedural protections, but he is no martyr. If he is ultimately returned to the United States, let the immigration tribunals adjudicate his claims – once again – in accordance with Mathews and the Supreme Court’s order. But let us not pretend that the judicial process requires judicial sainthood. The Constitution is not a shield for predators, nor a sword for partisans. It is, in the final analysis, a mechanism to ensure that justice—blind, impartial, and dispassionate—prevails.

And if we are to mourn the deprivation of rights, let us begin with American citizens—like the late Rachel Morin, and all the taxpayers who bear the financial and social costs of illegal immigration. They are all too often the forgotten casualties in this politicized pageant.

This is my understanding of the history, facts, and posture of this case as well as the conclusions of law. I welcome all thoughtful commentary and criticisms.

 

In its anxiety to be seen doing something good, the Maryland General Assembly has managed to do something gravely disfiguring. What began as a noble effort to deliver long-overdue justice to survivors of institutional child sexual abuse has now become a cautionary tale in legislative vanity — a textbook example of what happens when lawmakers legislate emotion unmoored from economics.

I refer to the 2023 Child Victims Act, Maryland’s morally urgent and fiscally negligent decision to lift the statute of limitations for abuse claims. The law, passed with great fanfare and a flood of self-congratulation, created what Maryland Matters reporter Bryan P. Sears has since documented as a staggering wave of lawsuits — thousands of them — aimed not just at religious institutions, but at the State of Maryland itself.

The cost? Sears reports that conservative estimates place potential state liability around $4 billion, a figure that rivals Maryland’s already cavernous structural deficit. And the real number may be even higher. Attorneys representing survivors say they’re handling claims from over 4,500 clients — with hundreds, perhaps thousands, more expected.

And yet — stunningly — the Legislature provided no mechanism to pay for this moral reckoning. No appropriated fund. No revenue stream. No reserve. No roadmap. Just a massive, undisciplined release of legal liability, issued in a fit of legislative conscience, with the bill to be settled by future taxpayers.

Now, in a moment of panicked pragmatism, the General Assembly has passed House Bill 1378, which slashes damage caps and narrows victims’ rights before the fiscal hemorrhage becomes uncontrollable. Governor Wes Moore has said he will sign it, noting the need to “preserve the long-term fiscal stability of the state.” As if this consideration — curiously absent when the law was first passed — had only recently presented itself.

Sears, who has provided indispensable coverage of this evolving crisis, noted that attorneys for victims are now racing to file lawsuits before the new, reduced caps take effect on June 1. Robert K. Jenner, one of those attorneys, called the new law a betrayal of the survivors Maryland had once promised to support. “It breaks the faith,” Jenner said, with “thousands of survivors who believed the state was on their side.”

Indeed it does. The state extended its hand to victims and invited them to come forward — and now, discovering that it may have bankrupted its conscience, it is pulling that helping hand back.

Delegate C.T. Wilson, who sponsored both the original law and its subsequent limitation on damages compensation, expressed astonishment at the number of claims. “I could have never comprehended 4,500 claimants,” he told Sears. That statement, dripping with sincerity, should chill every Maryland taxpayer. It is an admission that the General Assembly created a multi-billion-dollar liability without the faintest grasp of its scope.

Meanwhile, it is not clear if the Wall Street bond rating agencies have yet to be formally advised of the full dimensions of this contingent liability — a liability that, were it sitting on a corporate balance sheet, would invite charges of concealment. For a state that worships at the altar of its AAA bond rating, this alleged omission, if true, may prove the most reckless move of all.

This is what happens when symbolism replaces statesmanship. When feelings outrun facts. When the impulse to seem good overpowers the obligation to do good well.

Conservatives, it should be said, do not oppose justice for victims. But they insist on justice that is honest, deliverable, and rooted in prudence. What Maryland has offered instead is a promissory note with no plan to pay — and is now scrambling to shrink the obligation before the ink is even dry. This is the soft tyranny of good intentions unanchored by practical reasoning.   Here, the soft tyranny has become a hard liability — and a bruising one for Maryland taxpayers.

Maryland made a promise. It failed to count the cost. And now, in full view of the victims it once embraced, it is preparing to default — not in legal terms, perhaps, but in moral ones. What began as an act of courage now ends in retreat, with justice rationed and accountability nowhere in sight.

Clayton A. Mitchell, Sr. is a life-long Eastern Shoreman, an attorney, and former Chairman of the Maryland Department of Labor’s Board of Appeals.  He is co-host of the Gonzales/Mitchell Show podcast that discusses politics, business, and cultural issues. 

It requires a certain species of hubris—rare even among the bureaucratic classes of Annapolis—to imagine that the State of Maryland, which struggles to teach its children to read and fill its potholes on time, is uniquely equipped to rehabilitate a century-old horse racing track and somehow turn it into an economic engine. And yet, here we are: the state has already embarked on a taxpayer-funded effort to revamp the Pimlico Racecourse, sinking public resources into a fading relic in the hope of reviving its former glory.

But that horse has left the barn.

The question now is not whether the state should redevelop Pimlico—it already in progress. The more pressing question, in light of Maryland’s looming multi-billion-dollar structural deficit, is whether the state should continue this quixotic endeavor. The answer is no. It’s time to cut bait, sell the project to a private developer, and let those with the vision, capital, and market discipline to succeed take over.

Let us speak plainly. Horse racing, once the “Sport of Kings,” is now the sport of a niche. The crowds have dwindled, the betting pools have migrated to digital bookmakers, and the cultural cachet of thoroughbred racing, outside of the brief flurry of the Triple Crown, has evaporated like cigar smoke in a stiff breeze. The average Marylander has as much connection to horse racing as he does to the sport of curling, and with considerably less interest. It no longer serves as a public good. It is, at best, a private indulgence.

And yet, the state persists in its delusion that it can restore Pimlico to its former 20th-century glory—not through market forces, but through force of public finance. This is not stewardship. This is a bailout, clothed in the language of tradition and civic pride.

Even if one were to indulge the fiction that Pimlico retains some cultural value to Marylanders at large, one must confront an even more inconvenient truth: it serves virtually no benefit to the people who live around it. The citizens of Baltimore—particularly those in the long-neglected Park Heights neighborhood—do not need horse racing. They do not derive employment from it, nor entertainment, nor any sustained civic benefit. They see, instead, a vast parcel of city land used for a handful of days each year, sealed off the rest of the time, insulated from community needs, and animated chiefly by people who come and go like the horses themselves.

This is not just a poor use of taxpayer dollars. It is a poor use of urban space.

Imagine instead a development vision that actually addressed the public interest: mixed-income housing, green space, athletic fields, small business incubators, medical clinics, cultural venues, and relatable events for the community—not for a roving national set of socialites and bettors. Pimlico, properly reimagined, could become a civic anchor. As it stands, it is an anchor in the more nautical sense: a drag on the city’s forward motion, held in place by the weight of nostalgia and the rope of political inertia.

Meanwhile, we are told that the Preakness generates economic activity. Yes, a burst of temporary revenue. But who profits? Not the local residents. Not the struggling businesses of Park Heights. The primary beneficiaries are the racing industry, visiting elites, and the various vendors who circle the event like camp followers at a traveling circus. That is not economic development. That is pageantry.

And then there is the matter of Maryland’s fiscal reality. The state faces a structural deficit projected to materially worsen over the next five years. Annapolis officials, with straight faces and open palms, are already hinting at the inevitability of new taxes to sustain basic government operations. In such an environment, a $400,000,000 public expenditure on a racetrack is not merely extravagant—it is fiscally grotesque.

Consider what that $400 million could do instead: repair dozens of crumbling schools in Baltimore City; expand broadband access across the rural Eastern Shore and Western Maryland; replenish the state’s depleted transportation trust fund; or invest in behavioral health infrastructure to address the fentanyl crisis. That would be public investment. That would be need-based budgeting. The Pimlico Racetrack project is vanity spending masquerading as vision.

It is the classic conceit of government to believe that because it can spend, it can manage. Running a racetrack is not the business of the state. Managing any enterprise involving marketing, real estate, event production, and private capital is precisely what the state has repeatedly demonstrated it cannot do. A legislature cannot horse-trade its way to a successful business model—though goodness knows it tries.

Let us suppose, for argument’s sake, that horse racing in Baltimore has a future. Let that future be built not by the Annapolis bureaucracy but by private actors who understand the sport and are willing to risk their own capital to see it succeed. A re-privatized Pimlico would live or die on its merits. And if it dies? So be it. That is the wager private enterprise is designed to make. The Preakness can be held at another racetrack.

The state has already done what the government does best: write checks. Now it should do what it rarely has the courage to do—walk away. Sell the property, transfer the risk, and let the market decide Pimlico’s fate. The people of Park Heights—and the taxpayers of Maryland—deserve more than a ceremonial money pit occasionally dressed up in seersucker and mint juleps.

Enough with the politics of nostalgia. Enough with the costly fantasy that government can do what markets will not. If Pimlico is to run again, let it run without taxpayer involvement.

Clayton A. Mitchell, Sr. is a life-long Eastern Shoreman, an attorney, and former Chairman of the Maryland Department of Labor’s Board of Appeals.  He is co-host of the Gonzales/Mitchell Show podcast that discusses politics, business, and cultural issues.