The $1 bond was paid. But for someone so eager to torch the American house, Khalil is oddly determined to keep a room in it.
On Friday, the only door that opened was the one back to his cell.
Mahmoud Khalil, Columbia’s most litigious Gaza sympathizer, had seemingly triumphed in federal court—only to find himself right back where he started.
Down in Louisiana, where the alligators grow so mean.
After days of breathless media coverage and a headline-generating injunction questioning the legality of Mahmoud Khalil’s detention, Judge Michael Farbiarz quietly reversed course.
In a terse, two-page order, he declined to release Khalil after all. The reason? The government had landed on firmer legal ground: Khalil allegedly lied on his visa application. And under the law, that alone is enough.
So much for the First Amendment showdown.
So much for judicial scrutiny of Secretary of State Marco Rubio’s motives.
No need for sweeping declarations or a walking tour through the mind of Laurence Tribe.
Lying still matters. Bill Clinton must be stunned.
This saga began with Judge Farbiarz’s May 28 ruling—a judicial odyssey stretching over 100 pages, packed with constitutional speculation and commentary on The Immigration and Nationality Act’s (INA’s) foreign policy removal authority.
A shorter, revised version of that opinion was filed on June 11. The next day, June 12, Khalil posted his symbolic $1 bond. And on June 13—just hours before the DOJ filed its decisive letter shifting the legal grounds for detention—this publication ran my most recent analysis of the case.
The DOJ’s letter cut through the fog, alerting the court that Khalil could—and would—remain detained under 8 U.S.C. § 1227(a)(1)(A), which allows removal for aliens who were inadmissible at entry—including for fraud or material misrepresentation under § 1182(a)(6)(C).
Farbiarz got the message—his Friday afternoon order dispensed with the musings. No injunction. No release. No further editorializing. Just the cold fact that the DOJ had shifted footing—and that he wouldn’t block the path.
Ultimately, this episode serves as a reminder that judicial theater cannot substitute for statutory substance. The administration didn’t win with sweeping rhetoric or media spin—and rest assured, if the legacy press covers it at all, spin is all they’ll offer.
It won because it understood what the law allowed—and used it.
While Secretary Rubio had initially invoked a rarely used INA provision to deport Khalil on foreign policy grounds—citing his role in protests that created a “hostile environment for Jewish students”—that became secondary.
Long ignored or soft-pedaled by prior administrations, the provision is now receiving its intended force under the Trump administration—precisely as Congress designed.
That alone unsettled the legal commentariat, which responded with reflexive panic over “free speech” while ignoring the plain language of the statute.
Still, even that argument collapsed under the weight of Khalil’s apparent deception. By failing to disclose material facts about his affiliations or conduct, Khalil rendered himself removable under well-worn statutory grounds.
Suddenly, this wasn’t about foreign policy anymore. It was about fraud. And the government, to its credit, charged straight through the opening Farbiarz’s order had left.
Indeed, the June 11 opinion explicitly noted that its holdings had “no impact on efforts to remove the Petitioner for reasons other than the Secretary of State’s determination.”
The administration saw the door ajar and promptly walked through it. That’s called knowing your case—and the law.
It also stands as a quiet rebuke of trial court activism.
The DOJ’s precise legal pivot wasn’t just effective—it was necessary. The court’s earlier roundabout order missed the forest for the trees, obscuring the straightforward statutory basis for removal. It was so awkwardly organized, it read like someone filed the judge’s dictation—if anyone still dictates orders—or maybe an early draft a law clerk forgot to edit.
Even the abridged June 11 version couldn’t un-ring the bell. By then, Judge Farbiarz’s lengthy foray into constitutional musings had already seeded confusion, spawned a cavalcade of headlines, and delivered a premature victory lap to Khalil’s legal team.
But by Friday afternoon, it had all evaporated. Confronted with the hard edge of statutory authority and the opening the DOJ rightly seized, the court blinked.
So, Khalil remains in custody in Louisiana. His attorneys, scrambling for sympathy, tried out a new verse: It was a shame, they swore to the world—he’d miss his first Father’s Day.
One outlet even trotted out a video tribute to mark the occasion as if Khalil were a homesick war hero instead of a foreign agitator.
Prisons and detention centers are full of fathers who’d like to spend holidays at home. That’s not a legal standard—it’s a manipulative tactic wrapped in saccharine and served by the media for a fake news sugar rush.
If Father’s Day were truly the concern, Khalil had options.
He can agree to voluntary departure and reunite with his wife and child—both reportedly U.S. citizens—in any of the countries variously claimed as home: Algeria, Syria, or the Palestinian territories. Nothing in U.S. immigration law prevents a family from having a reunion abroad.
But that’s not the story he wants. For a man so indignant about America’s policies, Khalil sure seems unwilling to try his luck elsewhere.
The irony, of course, is that this case could have become a high-stakes Supreme Court showdown. Khalil was a strong test case: prominent, polarizing, and legally vulnerable.
But by shifting its footing, the Trump administration reminded the country—and the courts—that the Immigration and Nationality Act is the law of the land.
If the progressive open-borders cabal wants to challenge the Secretary of State’s removal authority under the INA, that battle is coming. But it’s a risky one.
Should the Supreme Court affirm that power—as precedent strongly suggests it would—it won’t just clarify the law. It will cement it. And for the Trump administration, that authority would become an exceptionally potent tool against foreign agitators masquerading as campus activists.
Will there be more legal twists? Probably. The open-borders cartel never retreats—they reload, reframe, and gaslight with abandon.
But this round went to the administration. Not by accident and not by overreach—by using the laws Congress passed and the Constitution permits.
Khalil may have paid a dollar. But the lie cost him his freedom. And his next adventure will likely take him home—wherever that may be.
Wretched, spiteful, straight-razor alien—Mahmoud Khalil came looking for a fight, but now he’s stuck in the bayou. Here’s hoping the detention center cafeteria cooks up a mean mess of Polk salad.
Chomp, chomp.
Charlton Allen is an attorney and former chief executive officer and chief judicial officer of the North Carolina Industrial Commission. He is founder of the Madison Center for Law & Liberty, Inc., editor of The American Salient, and host of the Modern Federalist podcast. X: @CharltonAllenNC
Image: YouTube video screen grab, edited.
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