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OPINION: Trump tried to eliminate the right to asylum. Three judges have just reminded him that he is not a king.

Jacques Pj Provost

2026-06-20 17:10:51

Three Judges, One Verdict

At 2:22 p.m. on Friday, April 25, 2026, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit issued its ruling. Three judges. One panel. Judge J. Michelle Childs wrote the majority opinion. Judge Cornelia Pillard heard the case. Judge Justin Walker—appointed by Trump himself—wrote a partial dissent.

The verdict: unlawful. Trump’s executive order on asylum is unlawful. Immigration laws give people the right to seek asylum at the border. The president cannot circumvent this provision. Not by executive order. Not by executive directive. Not by tweet. Not at all.

What This Changes—and What It Doesn’t

This decision suspends the executive order. It does not permanently overturn it. The Supreme Court—the one Trump has reshaped with three of his own appointees—will have its say. The administration will appeal. That’s certain. The legal battle continues. It will last for months. Perhaps years.

Meanwhile, people are waiting at the border. Meanwhile, some have already been sent back. Meanwhile, Form I-589 still exists—on paper.

The appeals court’s decision is a victory. Yes. But it’s a temporary victory in a war of attrition. And in wars of attrition, it’s the most vulnerable who lose first—not the lawyers, not the judges, not the columnists writing from a heated office.

What Trump Actually Tried to Do

Repealing a Law by Presidential Decree

Let’s be clear about what happened. Trump didn’t change the law. He didn’t introduce a bill in Congress. He didn’t launch a democratic debate. He picked up a pen. He signed an executive order. And he decided, unilaterally, that a law passed by the elected representatives of the American people no longer applied.

That’s the turning point. Not immigration. Not the border. Not the numbers. A president who decides that he is the law. That Congress can pass whatever it wants—if it doesn’t suit him, he signs a piece of paper and that’s that.

The Frightening Precedent

If that executive order had stood, if the Court of Appeals had said yes, if no judge had said no—what would have been left? Which law could have been next to be erased? What protection, what right, what constitutional guarantee could have survived another stroke of the pen?

The ACLU—the American Civil Liberties Union—said this decision was essential for those fleeing danger. Yes. But it’s also essential for something greater: the separation of powers. The principle that even the president must obey the law.

I’m not naive. I know the Supreme Court can still overturn everything. I know that three justices appointed by Biden and Obama don’t amount to a permanent victory. But today, Friday, at 2:22 p.m., three people looked the President of the United States in the eye and told him: no. You are not above the law. And that, in itself, is something.

The Man Behind the Form

A name: Lee Gelernt

Lee Gelernt. He is the ACLU attorney who argued this case. In a statement released at 2:37 p.m. this Friday, he said: This decision is crucial for those fleeing danger who have been denied even a hearing.

A hearing. That’s all Form I-589 asked for. Not an automatic visa. Not open doors for everyone. A hearing. The right to speak. The right to be heard. The right to say: I’m afraid, here’s why, here’s my evidence—and let a judge decide.

What Trump Denied

Trump didn’t deny asylum. He denied access to the process. That’s worse. He denied the hearing before the application was even filed. He shut the door before anyone could knock. He said: No matter what you’re fleeing from, no matter what awaits you if you go back, you don’t have the right to explain.

People have been sent back to countries where their lives were at risk. Not because a judge had reviewed their case and concluded they didn’t deserve protection. Because an executive order had stripped them of the right to file a claim. That’s what’s inhumane. That’s the exact word Lee Gelernt used. Inhumane.

I can already hear the objections. “Immigration is out of control.” “We need limits.” ” “We can’t take everyone in.” Yes. All right. These are legitimate debates. But they don’t justify taking away the right to a hearing. They don’t justify deporting people without hearing their cases. There’s a difference between a strict immigration policy and an executive order that says: the law no longer applies. A fundamental difference.

The Supreme Court is waiting

The Next Round

The Trump administration will appeal. It’s a given. It’s inevitable. The case will go all the way to the Supreme Court—where six justices appointed by Republican presidents sit, including three appointed by Trump himself: Neil Gorsuch, Brett Kavanaugh, and Amy Coney Barrett.

This court has already granted Trump near-absolute presidential immunity for his official acts. It has already expanded the powers of the executive branch dramatically. It could—it could—overturn the Court of Appeals’ decision. No one knows. No one can predict it with certainty.

What History Will Remember

What history will remember is that in 2026, a U.S. president attempted to erase by executive order a right guaranteed by Congress since 1980. That lawyers fought back. That judges said no. That the system—imperfect, slow, exhausting—held firm that Friday at 2:22 p.m.

And that throughout this legal battle, people waited at the border. People were deported. I-589 forms were never filled out. Stories were never heard. Lives were decided without a trial.

Form I-589 has survived Trump—for now. But what about the people who were deported while the legal battle was unfolding? What have they survived?

What This Tells Us About America in 2026

A Country at War with Itself

America in 2026 is a country where the president signs executive orders to overturn laws. Where lawyers spend their nights drafting emergency petitions. Where judges work on Friday mornings to issue rulings by 2:22 p.m. Where Form I-589—a 12-page form that has existed for 46 years—has become the subject of a constitutional battle.

This isn’t right. No matter what your opinion on immigration is. No matter what you think about refugees. It isn’t right for a president to decide on his own that the law no longer applies. It isn’t right for this to end up in court. It isn’t right for the outcome to be uncertain.

And we, up north

We’re watching this from Canada. We read the news. We shrug—or we don’t. We tell ourselves it’s their problem—or we don’t. But the border is long. Principles are contagious. What becomes the norm in the south eventually comes knocking at our door.

When a neighboring country decides that the right to asylum is an option rather than a guarantee, when it decides that laws apply only when it suits those in power—that concerns us. Because we, too, claim to be a democracy that respects its laws. And democracies either defend themselves or fade away.

Trump signed his executive order. Three judges said no. The Supreme Court is waiting. And somewhere along the southern border of the United States, someone is still holding an I-589 form in their hands, hoping the system will hold out long enough to hear their case.

Conclusion

The form is still in use

This Friday, April 25, 2026, Form I-589 still exists. The Court of Appeals has ruled that the law is the law. That even the president must abide by it. That the right to asylum is not a presidential favor—it is a legal guarantee, voted on, enshrined in law, and inalienable unless Congress itself repeals it.

Trump will appeal. The battle continues. And in the meantime, people are waiting. Lives hang in the balance of legal decisions. Men and women who have fled wars, persecution, and death threats—they are waiting to find out if America will finally hear them.

Form I-589 is 12 pages long. It has been in use since 1980. It asks for your name, your country, and your fear.

Trump tried to bury it. Three judges have just reminded him that he is not a king.

Signed, Maxime Marquette