ANALYSIS: The 1.776 billion anti-gun fund and the January 6 pardons — rewarding the riot

Maxime Marquette

2026-06-27 16:00:39

A collective pardon unprecedented in American history

As soon as he took office, Donald Trump signed a proclamation granting a mass pardon covering nearly all 1,500 individuals charged in connection with the events of January 6. Full pardons were granted to the majority of those convicted. Sentence commutations were granted to members of the paramilitary groups Proud Boys and Oath Keepers, several of whom had been convicted of seditious conspiracy—the most serious offense under U.S. federal law aside from high treason. This sweeping political move has overturned convictions handed down after fair trials by independent juries before judges appointed for life.

The Office of the Attorney General for Pardons is now headed by Ed Martin, a former lawyer for the “Stop the Steal” movement and a central figure in the challenge to the 2020 election. His permanent appointment has been blocked in the Senate, but he remains in office on an interim basis. Liz Oyer, his predecessor, testified publicly that she was fired for refusing to recommend restoring actor Mel Gibson’s gun rights following a domestic violence conviction—a sign of the institution’s ideological drift.

The Real Victims Erased from the Equation

These mass pardons have had a direct and immediate financial impact on real victims. According to a memo from Democratic staff on the House Judiciary Committee, the pardons granted by Trump to Capitol rioters, financial fraudsters, and other convicts could deprive victims and the federal government of up to $1.3 billion in court-ordered fines and restitution. For the January 6 rioters alone, approximately $3 million had been ordered in restitution—of which only 15% had actually been paid at the time the pardons were granted.

Liz Oyer, former head of the Office of Pardons, testified before Congress: “The victims have reason to believe they will recover at least some of the money owed to them. Seeing the president wipe all of that away with the stroke of a pen is, I’m sure, very traumatic for them.” These victims—injured police officers, traumatized congressional staff members, and archivists who repaired the damage to the building—are not included in any of the Trump administration’s compensation plans.

We must clearly name this paradox: the same government that is writing off the debts of the attackers refuses to create an equivalent fund for the police officers beaten that day, or for the Capitol employees who fled under threat. This silence is a policy.

The origin of the fund: an opaque legal agreement between Trump and the IRS

A court settlement that smacks of a conflict of interest

The origins of the so-called “Anti-Weaponization Fund” are as unusual as its purpose. In January 2026, Donald Trump—as sitting president—filed a $10 billion lawsuit against the IRS, the U.S. tax agency that he himself heads through the Department of the Treasury. The reason cited: the illegal disclosure of his tax returns by a former contractor for the agency. The settlement reached shortly thereafter saw Trump withdraw his lawsuit in exchange for the creation of the fund. The agreement explicitly stipulated that his past tax returns would be protected from any future audit or investigation.

The circular logic of this transaction was immediately denounced. The president sued his own government, secured the creation of a $2 billion fund for his supporters, and, as a bonus, guaranteed tax immunity for his family and his businesses. Paul Figley, a former Justice Department official, assessed that the mechanism was likely legal under existing laws—but formal legality is not enough to dispel the obvious conflict of interest.

The source of funding: the Judgment Fund, a bottomless pit

The fund is financed by the Judgment Fund, a perpetual appropriation from Congress designed to allow the Department of Justice to settle judgments against the federal government without having to seek legislative authorization each year. This mechanism, intended to streamline administrative processes, has here become a tool for circumventing congressional oversight. The Department of Justice can draw on this fund without a congressional vote, which explains the strategy chosen by the administration.

Acting Attorney General Todd Blanche—who served as Trump’s personal attorney before being appointed to this position—announced upon the fund’s creation that it would allow for formal apologies and financial compensation to be issued to anyone who could demonstrate that they had been a victim of “weaponization and lawfare.” Five commissioners appointed by the Attorney General—who can be removed by the president at any time—would have been responsible for evaluating the claims. All of this would have taken place without published criteria, without a transparent process, and without prior judicial review.

A president who sues his own government, secures two billion for his allies, and shields himself from taxes in the process—if this scenario were unfolding in a country the United States typically labels a kleptocracy, Washington would be up in arms. Here, we call it a judicial settlement.

The figure of 1.776 billion: symbolism and strategy

A figure chosen for its political message

The specific amount of $1,776,000,000 is not the result of an assessment of actual needs. It is a deliberate choice. 1776 is the year of the United States Declaration of Independence. By invoking this founding symbol, the Trump administration is attempting to cast the Capitol rioters in a tradition of patriotic resistance—on par with the Founding Fathers. It is a remarkably audacious semantic maneuver: equating individuals who attempted to overturn a certified election with revolutionaries fighting for freedom.

This symbolism provoked an immediate reaction from both sides. Republicans themselves—including Senator Thom Tillis of North Carolina—denounced the fund as “a payout pot for punks.” Representatives Brian Fitzpatrick (Republican, Pennsylvania) and Tom Suozzi (Democrat, New York) jointly introduced a bill to abolish it. Rarely has a Trump administration initiative sparked such bipartisan opposition so quickly.

The Individual Amounts Being Sought

The individual compensation claims circulating among the “J6ers”—the nickname given to those who participated in the January 6th events—give a sense of the program’s financial scope. Nine plaintiffs who took part in the Capitol riot filed a class-action lawsuit on May 29, 2026, seeking at least $1 million each. Andrew Taake, who was sentenced to six years in prison for spraying tear gas at police officers and striking them with a whip, is seeking at least $2.5 million, citing inadequate medical care and an unfair trial. Attorney Peter Ticktin says he represents more than 400 plaintiffs who have filed claims under the Federal Tort Claims Act.

By way of comparison, the settlements already secured by senior officials close to Trump through the same Federal Tort Claims Act procedure speak volumes: former National Security Advisor Michael Flynn and former political adviser Carter Page each received $1.25 million in compensation earlier this year. These precedents set a psychological floor for all future claims.

I must admit that the idea of compensating people who have been wrongfully prosecuted is not absurd in itself—miscarriages of justice do occur, and the government may be held accountable for them. But these rioters were not victims of such errors. Most pleaded guilty under oath. Some were filmed assaulting police officers. This isn’t rehabilitation; it’s institutional whitewashing.

The Legal Mechanism: From a Frozen Fund to an Indirect Route

Anti-Weaponization Fund Suspended and Then Abandoned

The Anti-Weaponization Fund never became operational. Announced on May 18, 2026, it was blocked on May 29 by U.S. District Judge Leonie Brinkema of the Eastern District of Virginia, who barred the Department of Justice from taking any further steps to establish the fund or make payments from it. The ruling was intended to preserve the status quo pending the outcome of legal proceedings filed against the fund. On June 2, Todd Blanche informed Congress that the administration “was not moving forward with the fund, period.” A week later, on June 12, Judge Brinkema granted the administration an additional week to provide an affidavit confirming the abandonment of the fund.

Trump himself, during an appearance on NBC News on June 7, refused to categorically rule out payments to rioters who had assaulted police officers: “I wouldn’t be inclined to do that; I’d have to look into it,” he said—a response ambiguous enough to keep hope alive among his supporters. Democratic Senator Adam Schiff of California has introduced legislation to amend the Federal Tort Claims Act to explicitly exclude January 6 participants from any eligibility for compensation.

The Workaround: The Federal Tort Claims Act of 1946

The apparent abandonment of the anti-weaponization fund does not close the case. According to Reuters, Trump’s allies are now exploring an alternative legal route via the Federal Tort Claims Act (FTCA), a 1946 law that allows citizens to file administrative claims against the federal government for alleged wrongs, which can then be settled out of court. The process is remarkably discreet: if the government accepts the amount claimed, no judge reviews the settlement. The payment comes from the Judgment Fund without prior judicial oversight.

Stanley Woodward, the third-ranking official at the Department of Justice, told Reuters: “As far as I’m concerned, the fund is dead. But if anyone wants to file a claim against the government and sue us, they can still do so.” This message, which he described as deliberately ambiguous, was intended to signal that the path to compensation remained open—even without the formal fund. Hundreds of FTCA claims have already been filed by January 6 participants, and at least ten lawsuits have been filed.

This is the perverse ingenuity of the system: the formal fund serves as a lightning rod, absorbing criticism and legal proceedings, then disappearing—while the actual pathway, less visible, less controlled, and less publicized, continues to operate in the shadow of the Judgment Fund. The stage is set; what happens behind the scenes is ignored.

The official justification: the narrative of “weaponization”

A Carefully Constructed Rhetorical Framework

To understand the administration’s logic, one must take its narrative framework seriously—even if only to better deconstruct it. The term “weaponization”—in Trumpist parlance—refers to the alleged use of the federal judicial system for the purpose of political persecution. The argument is simple: the Biden administration has allegedly systematically targeted Trump’s political opponents, members of his inner circle, and supporters of the MAGA movement by exploiting the justice system to neutralize them.

This theory is not entirely devoid of empirical reality. It is true that certain prosecutions initiated under Biden have raised legitimate questions about the criteria used to prioritize cases. But applying this framework to those convicted in connection with the January 6th events ignores a central fact: most of these individuals were found guilty by independent juries or pleaded guilty under oath. Enrique Tarrio, leader of the Proud Boys, sentenced to 22 years for seditious conspiracy, himself received a thorough trial. This is not the “weaponization” of justice—it is justice at work.

The Arguments of the J6ers’ Lawyers

Attorney Mark McCloskey—himself a figure in the pro-Trump movement after brandishing a gun in front of his home during a 2020 protest in St. Louis—represents many January 6 plaintiffs in their FTCA claims. He argues that many were coerced into pleading guilty under the threat of even harsher prison sentences, that falsified evidence was presented, and that the trials were rigged. These serious allegations have not been substantiated by any independent judicial review and are disputed by the prosecutors involved in the cases.

Florida attorney Peter Ticktin, a longtime Trump ally, says he has filed approximately 400 FTCA claims on behalf of January 6 participants and plans to file many more now that the six-month waiting period before legal action can be taken has expired. He himself acknowledges that the interpretation of the law—that “continuing damages” allow one to circumvent the usual two-year statute of limitations—is disputed. He is speaking on the basis of a legal theory that has not been validated by the courts.

There is something deeply troubling about this spectacle of lawyers constructing judicial conspiracy theories to overturn convictions handed down after ordinary trials. This is not civil rights advocacy—it is revisionism in a judge’s robe, funded by potential public money.

The true victims of January 6 excluded from the program

Injured Police Officers, Forgotten by Both Sides

While rioters prepare their compensation claims, the police officers who defended the Capitol that day have received no equivalent funding. Capitol Police Officer Harry Dunn and Washington Metropolitan Police Officer Daniel Hodges filed a lawsuit to block the anti-weaponization fund. Their complaint described the fund as “the most shameless act of presidential corruption of this century” and accused it of violating the 14th Amendment to the Constitution, which prohibits the use of federal funds to finance an insurrection or rebellion against the United States.

The two officers argue that the fund would not only reward the attackers of their colleagues but could also potentially finance the paramilitary organizations that orchestrated the assault—most notably the Proud Boys and the Oath Keepers—thereby encouraging them to commit future acts of violence. Their constitutional challenge will be a decisive test of U.S. case law regarding the limits of executive power in matters of pardon and compensation.

Crime Victim Rehabilitation Funds at Risk

The systemic impact of this measure extends beyond the rioters themselves. Fines and restitution ordered from convicted criminals feed, through the Victims of Crime Act, into a national fund that finances victim assistance: medical care, funerals, psychological support, and social services. According to the Democratic memo, the pardons granted by Trump—which cover financial fraudsters sentenced to massive restitution, such as the founders of a cryptocurrency platform ($20 million in penalties) or Todd and Julie Chrisley, convicted of tax fraud ($21 million in forfeitures)—risk drying up a critical source of funding for the actual victims.

Silk Road founder Ross Ulbricht, pardoned by Trump, had been ordered to forfeit nearly $184 million. That money would have funded victim services across the country. It will likely never find its way back into the public coffers. The real cost of these pardons will be felt not in Washington, but in clinics for victims of violence and mental health support services across America.

This paradox deserves to be highlighted: the administration that claims to defend victims of state violence by creating a $2 billion fund is the same one that cut off the financial flow that supported aid funds for victims of actual crimes. There is a consistency here—just not the one we’re being told.

Political Reactions: A Rare Bipartisan Show of Support

An Unexpected Republican Front

Resistance to the anti-weaponization fund was surprisingly intense, even within Republican ranks. Senator Thom Tillis of Missouri expressed reservations to NBC News. Republican Representative LaLota of New York stated that he did not want money to go to “people who beat up cops,” especially when there is video evidence to prove it. Even within a caucus largely aligned with Trump, the idea of using federal funds to compensate rioters who had assaulted law enforcement officers was a line that several elected officials refused to cross.

This resistance was not solely ethical—it was also political. The fund had been tied to a bill on funding for border enforcement agencies (ICE and Border Patrol): Republicans refused to pass a law that conditioned these appropriations on such a controversial measure. The link between the two issues ultimately contributed to the scrapping of the fund, at least in its original form.

The Democratic Legislative Response

On the Democratic side, the response was immediate. Ninety-three Democratic lawmakers filed a legal brief to block the fund. Senator Adam Schiff of California proposed amending the Federal Tort Claims Act to bar anyone pardoned for acts related to January 6 from receiving compensation. Senators Michael Bennet and John Hickenlooper of Colorado, along with Representative Brittany Pettersen, called in June for a comprehensive audit: who applied for compensation, what amounts were approved or disbursed, and what communications took place between the DOJ, the Treasury, and the White House.

The request for an audit is political and symbolic, but it reveals something important: the total lack of transparency surrounding this program. Trump himself refused to confirm in writing that the fund had been permanently abandoned. No signed documents have been produced. No list of applicants has been released. Senator Bennet has called out this lack of transparency: “The absence of even the most basic documents raises a serious concern: that the fund was used or intended to financially reward individuals involved in the January 6 attack.”

I don’t know if any payments have already been made. What I do know is that the administration refuses to confirm or deny this in writing. In a rule-of-law state worthy of the name, this lack of transparency would be a scandal in itself. Here, it has become a way of governing.

The Constitutional Paradoxes of the System

The 14th Amendment as a Shield

The 14th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, adopted after the Civil War, contains a clause that explicitly prohibits the use of federal funds to pay debts or obligations “incurred in aid of an insurrection or rebellion against the United States.” The complaint filed by Officers Dunn and Hodges is based precisely on this provision. If the courts agree to characterize the events of January 6, 2021, as an insurrection within the constitutional meaning—as suggested by numerous convictions for “seditious conspiracy”—then funding the rioters would be unconstitutional.

This legal question has far-reaching implications. It would extend beyond the January 6 case alone to define the limits of presidential pardon power and executive control over the Judgment Fund. Constitutional scholars are divided. Rupa Bhattacharyya, a former official at the Department of Justice and now legal director of the Institute for Constitutional Defense at Georgetown, has argued that the DOJ could “successfully defend” the malicious lawsuits filed by the rioters—particularly because most have pleaded guilty or been convicted by juries.

A Dangerous Precedent for Western Democracies

Beyond the legal technicalities, it is the political precedent that worries observers of liberal democracy. If a president can pardon individuals who attacked the electoral process, then compensate them with public funds, and then present this as a correction of an injustice—what regime can still be protected by its own institutions against this kind of abuse? The question is not rhetorical. It concerns European parliamentary democracies that are watching this American experiment with dread.

The West has always claimed the superiority of its model of the rule of law—separation of powers, judicial independence, and the primacy of the Constitution. Here, that model is under internal pressure. Not from a revolution coming from outside, but from an abuse of power carried out by an elected executive, using the state’s legal tools to rewrite the narrative of its own history.

I often return to this image: democracies that fought against authoritarian regimes throughout the 20th century and are now watching their most powerful ally pay its own rioters. If I were Zelensky—who is fighting for his democracy against a real invasion—I would wonder what “defending the West” even means anymore.

The Reversal of the Narrative: How January 6 Was Rewritten

From Insurrection to “Peaceful Protest”

On January 6, 2026—the fifth anniversary of the events—the official White House website published a page stating that many of those charged in connection with January 6 had been “unfairly targeted, overcharged,” “left unprotected,” “&strong>punished to cover up incompetence,” and that they were “peaceful protesters treated as insurgents while exercising their First Amendment rights.” This official text erases court convictions, sworn confessions, videos, FBI reports, and the testimonies of injured police officers—and replaces them with a revised and officially approved version.

As of January 20, 2025, the presidential pardon proclamation stated that the DOJ had “relentlessly prosecuted more than 1,500 individuals associated with January 6” and that the White House’s policy was now to “identify and take appropriate measures to correct past wrongs” related to “the militarization of law enforcement.” This institutional terminology creates an official narrative that competes with that of the courts—with the weight of the executive branch behind it.

The Social Rehabilitation of Convicted Individuals

The rewriting of the narrative is not limited to official documents. The “J6ers” are welcomed to the White House, invited to inauguration ceremonies, and presented by the president as heroes. Enrique Tarrio—sentenced to 22 years for seditious conspiracy, later commuted—said of the fund: “There are so many uncertainties, but this seems like a positive step forward.” Antony Vo, a participant who briefly left U.S. territory to evade his prison sentence, expressed “surprise, relief, and gratitude all at once” upon learning of the fund’s existence.

David Johnston, a South Carolina attorney who participated in the assault, is now offering his services to other “J6ers” to help them file their compensation claims—in exchange for a 10% commission on any amount obtained, capped at $5,000. This parallel “pardon” economy developing around the fund illustrates the scale of the phenomenon. This is no longer politics; it’s a business.

There is something about this rewriting of history that goes beyond ordinary cynicism. It is a frontal assault on collective memory, on the right to history. Rewarding those who attacked the Capitol teaches future generations that political violence pays off—literally.

The Judgment Fund as a Tool for Political Rewards

A mechanism designed for another purpose

The Judgment Fund was created by Congress to streamline the payment of judgments against the federal government—an administrative mechanism intended to prevent unnecessary delays in settling legitimate court-ordered debts. It is continuously funded by the Treasury and requires no annual budgetary authorization from Congress. It is precisely this characteristic—the absence of periodic legislative oversight—that makes it attractive to the Trump administration.

According to Georgetown law professor Rupa Bhattacharyya, if the Treasury does not enforce the Judgment Fund’s limits and does not restrict it to settlements of ongoing legal proceedings, “there would be no limit to how it could be used as long as someone files a bogus claim.” This risk of abuse would transform a judicial management tool into a political reward fund at the executive branch’s sole discretion—without transparency, without oversight, and without limits.

The Lack of Published Criteria and the Risk of Fraud

Neither the anti-weaponization fund nor the alternative FTCA process has resulted in the publication of explicit eligibility criteria. Todd Blanche declined to specify whether individuals convicted of assaulting police officers could receive funds, deferring the decision to commissioners who have not yet been appointed. Mark McCloskey himself criticized the original fund for its lack of “standards, procedures, or evidentiary requirements”—a remarkable statement coming from an attorney representing plaintiffs in that very same process.

A former federal prosecutor in Washington stated in February 2026 that many FTCA claims should be dismissed because the wrong defendants were named and the prerequisites for filing had not been met. The Trump administration is, in fact, contesting Andrew Taake’s claim and seeking its dismissal. This contradiction—on the one hand symbolically encouraging claims, on the other contesting them on technical grounds—illustrates the deliberate ambiguity of the mechanism.

This deliberate ambiguity is not a weakness of the mechanism; it is its strength. It allows the administration to signal to its allies that compensation is possible, while reserving the right to reject the most compromising claims on a case-by-case basis. It is the politics of making promises without commitment—an art that this administration has mastered perfectly.

The Issue of Precedent in the U.S. Rule of Law

When a Pardon Also Waives the Obligation to Compensate

U.S. law is clear: a presidential pardon erases a criminal conviction, but should not necessarily erase civil obligations to compensate victims. In practice, the Department of Justice argued in a proceeding that certain pardoned rioters should be reimbursed for the restitution they had already paid for damage to the Capitol—a position that radically reverses the logic of criminal restitution.

The Justice Department’s standard practice, as set forth in its own manual, is that “a person’s acknowledgment of criminal responsibility and restitution to victims are important factors” in the decision to grant a pardon. This standard was completely ignored in the case of the January 6 rioters, many of whom had paid none or very little of their restitution obligations by the time the pardons were signed.

The Cost to Democratic Institutions

Beyond the financial cost—which can be quantified—there is an institutional cost that is more difficult to measure. Every time a president uses his legal prerogatives to reward loyalists who have committed criminal acts for his benefit, he erodes the contract of trust between citizens and institutions. This erosion is particularly damaging in a context where liberal democracies face adversaries—Russia, China, Iran, North Korea—who exploit precisely these fractures to argue that democracy is a hypocritical and failing system.

The West cannot defend its worldview in words while undermining it in deeds. Consistency between the principles it proclaims abroad—the rule of law, separation of powers, judicial independence—and its domestic practices is a prerequisite for credibility. When Washington pays its own rioters, Moscow and Beijing take note—and smile.

Trump may be a necessary evil to maintain the West’s strategic coherence in the face of its adversaries—I have often defended this thesis. But there is a tipping point where the evil exceeds what is necessary. Financially rewarding those who have assaulted American democracy is crossing that line. Strategic firmness does not require corrupting the very institutions one claims to defend.

Where do things stand as of June 23, 2026: Status of the proceedings

Fund Suspended, Claims Still Active

As of the date of this analysis, the anti-weaponization fund is officially suspended. The administration has not produced any written, sworn statement confirming its permanent discontinuation despite the court order. On June 12, Judge Brinkema granted an additional week to obtain this statement. At least four separate legal proceedings are underway to block the fund—including those filed by Officers Dunn and Hodges, and one brought by a former January 6 prosecutor who was dismissed by the administration. Senator Bennet has set a deadline of July 12, 2026, to obtain the requested documents.

Meanwhile, FTCA claims continue to be filed. Attorney Ticktin is waiting for the six-month waiting period to expire before converting the administrative claims into lawsuits. Nine plaintiffs who participated in the assault are seeking at least $1 million each in a lawsuit filed on May 29. Andrew Taake, convicted of aggravated assault on police officers, is still awaiting the DOJ’s response to his $2.5 million claim—which the administration officially contests while refusing to dismiss it on its merits.

The Next Crucial Steps

Several milestones will shape the course of this case in the coming months. Senator Schiff is pushing his amendment to the FTCA, which would constitute a definitive legislative barrier if adopted. The courts will have to rule on whether the “continuing damages” invoked by the FTCA plaintiffs effectively allow them to circumvent the statute of limitations. Finally, the commissioners of the anti-weaponization fund—who were never appointed before the fund was apparently abandoned—could theoretically be appointed if the administration reverses its decision.

Trump himself described the fund as “something beautiful” and “very important” during a public statement in June 2026, saying he did not know whether the abandonment was final or temporary. This sustained uncertainty is consistent with the administration’s strategy: to leave the window for compensation open, without ever formally closing it or locking it shut permanently.

This matter is not closed. It will evolve. But the real question is not a legal one—it is a political one: How long can U.S. institutions resist an executive branch that systematically uses legal instruments to rewrite reality? It is this institutional resistance—imperfect, slow, and costly—that distinguishes a democracy in crisis from a dying democracy.

Conclusion: Rewarding the riot as a symptom of a democracy under pressure

What This Mechanism Reveals About the State of the West

The anti-weaponization fund, in all its forms—the formally suspended fund, the parallel FTCA track, massive claims by rioters, and preemptive pardons—is a symptom rather than a cause. It reveals that liberal democracies can be eroded from within by actors who use their own rules as a weapon. American democracy has antibodies: independent federal judges, Republican elected officials who refuse to cross certain lines, police officers who take their battles to court, and legal scholars who document abuses. But these antibodies are weary.

The real lesson of this episode is not that Trump is a monster who came out of nowhere. It is that his methods work because they build on preexisting realities—institutional distrust, political polarization, and flaws in legislative oversight. Correcting these flaws is a long-term endeavor that neither an election nor a court ruling can accomplish on its own.

The rule of law does not defend itself in silence

In the face of systems that flip the narrative, the answer isn’t silence or resignation: it’s precision. Name the facts. Document the mechanisms. Present the figures. This is what judges do by blocking funding, senators by demanding audits, and injured police officers by taking legal action. Their resistance is imperfect; it often comes too late, but it is real—and it matters. The West does not defend itself only on the battlefields of Ukraine or in NATO councils. It also defends itself in courtrooms in Virginia and in U.S. congressional committees.

Rewarding the Capitol rioters is not a policy of national reconciliation. It is a statement of principle: those who act on behalf of the ruling power will be shielded, pardoned, and reimbursed. This statement deserves to be called what it is—an attack on the rule of law—and fought with the same determination as any other attack on the foundations of Western democracy.

Signed, Maxime Marquette, columnist