Sen. Bill Cassidy, R-La., says Todd Blanche, President Donald Trump’s former personal attorney and his nominee for attorney general, should be judged not by the client he once represented, but by the public official he has become.
That is exactly right. And on that record, the case against Blanche was overwhelming. Unfortunately, though, the Senate, thanks in large part to Cassidy’s last-minute decision, voted 50-49 early Saturday morning to confirm Blanche.
The problem with Blanche’s nomination was not that he once defended Trump. Defense lawyers are supposed to be loyal to their clients. The problem is that since he first took an oath to the United States as deputy attorney general and later acting attorney general, Blanche has been pursuing Trump’s enemies, abandoning or undoing cases against Trump’s allies, driving career prosecutors from the department, hollowing out institutions designed to protect its independence and repeatedly defending a vision of federal law enforcement in which the president may influence whom the government investigates.
Blanche’s confirmation almost foundered over the extraordinary settlement of Trump’s $10 billion lawsuit against the IRS. But focusing on that episode alone badly understates the case.
Blanche’s confirmation almost foundered over the extraordinary settlement of Trump’s $10 billion lawsuit against the IRS. But focusing on that episode alone badly understates the case. The IRS deal was not an aberration. It was one entry in a much longer record.
In criminal practice, that record might be called a bill of particulars.
Here are the particulars:
After the Justice Department’s first prosecution of former FBI Director James Comey collapsed — he was accused of lying to Congress and obstruction of a congressional proceeding — Blanche’s Justice Department indicted him again. That second indictment concerned a photograph Comey posted on Instagram of seashells arranged to spell “86 47,” which prosecutors treated as a threat to Trump, the 47th president. The first case produced judicial findings of serious problems in the grand jury presentation and handling of evidence. The department came back anyway with another attempt to prosecute Comey.
Then there is Kilmar Abrego Garcia. A federal judge dismissed the government’s human-smuggling prosecution as retaliatory. He found an “abuse of prosecuting power” and cited Blanche’s own televised statements as evidence tying Justice Department leadership to the retaliation.
The department subpoenaed Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey and other Democratic officials in the state over their opposition to the administration’s immigration crackdown. A judge appointed by President George W. Bush quashed the subpoenas, called the government’s legal theory “risible” and found that their dominant purpose was to “harass” and “retaliate.”
In New Jersey, Blanche authorized federal agents to make an arrest during the confrontation in which Newark Mayor Ras Baraka was arrested for trespassing at an immigration detention facility. The charge against Baraka was dropped days later.
The retaliatory pattern is not limited to whom the department prosecutes. It includes what happens when career prosecutors resist.
Ten Justice Department lawyers ultimately resigned over the handling of the corruption case against New York Mayor Eric Adams. Seven resigned rather than participate in dismissing the case. Three more later told Blanche that they understood returning to work would require them to express regret and admit wrongdoing. They resigned instead. The judge who dismissed the case said the department’s stated rationale — freeing Adams to assist the administration’s immigration agenda — “smacks of a bargain.”
Then Jan. 6. Under Blanche, the Justice Department moved to erase convictions of Oath Keepers and Proud Boys leaders, including seditious conspiracy convictions. It removed Jan. 6 prosecution materials from its website. Blanche boasted that the department and FBI had “cleaned house” of people associated with investigations involving Trump. A pardoned Jan. 6 defendant who was captured urging rioters attacking police to “kill ’em” later worked as a senior adviser in the deputy attorney general’s office and with the department’s so-called weaponization operation.
The Jeffrey Epstein case provides another example. Former Attorney General Pam Bondi told the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform that she delegated responsibility for releasing the Epstein files to Blanche, then a deputy attorney general. The department then published material that exposed victims’ identifying information. Blanche has acknowledged the department’s failure to protect victims while he oversaw a release of millions of pages of documents.
As for the institution Blanche helped lead, Justice Department records obtained by Reuters showed roughly 11,200 fewer employees than before Trump’s second term. The National Security Division lost nearly 38% of its staff. Roughly three-quarters of the Civil Rights Division’s lawyers had left by late 2025. Thousands of employees left the FBI, DEA and ATF. Federal drug trafficking prosecutions fell to their lowest level in more than two decades.
Even the machinery for policing misconduct inside the department withered. The Office of Professional Responsibility shrank dramatically even as misconduct complaints reached a 20-year high and the number of investigations it opened fell to a 20-year low.
And that is hardly the full bill.
Blanche fired career pardon attorney Liz Oyer, who says she was dismissed after refusing to recommend restoring actor Mel Gibson’s gun rights; the department disputes her account. Armed U.S. marshals were then mobilized to deliver Oyer a warning before her congressional testimony.
Any one of these episodes can be debated in isolation. That is precisely why the cumulative record matters.
The Public Integrity Section — created after Watergate to prosecute corruption and provide a check against politically motivated cases — was stripped of much of its traditional authority and saw its staff fall from more than 30 lawyers to a handful. Blanche disbanded the department’s national cryptocurrency enforcement team and narrowed foreign bribery enforcement. His department intensified the investigation of former CIA Director John Brennan and brought Trump allies into the effort to examine investigations of the president.
Any one of these episodes can be debated in isolation. That is precisely why the cumulative record matters.
As for the theory behind Blanche’s actions, he has rejected the idea that the Justice Department is independent of the president and has defended presidential influence over investigations, including investigations of people the president believes should be investigated.
The Justice Department gives prosecutors extraordinary power over other people’s lives. Its legitimacy depends on something more than whether a prosecutor can identify a statute or obtain an indictment. It depends on the public believing that the department uses that power for law enforcement rather than political reward, retaliation or personal loyalty.
That is why Cassidy’s formulation matters. He, and all his Senate colleagues, should have judged Todd Blanche as Todd Blanche.
The particulars speak for themselves.
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