Last week, I dropped a column on media manipulation in the immigration enforcement context, centered on the Los Angeles Times’ coverage of ICE raids in California.

That piece—The Ideological Hustle Masquerading as Journalism—examined how “advocates say” and incendiary or manipulative language are increasingly used to distort facts, assign victimhood, and turn criminal enforcement into a moral offense.

Politico offers yet another case study in narrative manipulation—this time leaning hard into passive framing and insinuation by adjacency, subtly recasting law enforcement as persecution and protest as immunity.

What Politico delivered here is gonzo gaslighting—where Molotov cocktails are softened into protest props and federal law enforcement is painted as the villain for doing its job.

Then it doubles down, merging felony charges of incendiary violence with LGBTQ+ advocacy into a single narrative—an insinuation-laden cocktail all its own.

So let’s walk through the passage.

In Los Angeles, his authority [United States Attorney for the Central District of California Bilal ‘Bill’ Essayli] ran up against the most basic form of dissent: public protest. As immigration enforcement officials, aided by Essayli’s search warrants and federal agents, launched targeted raids of migrant communities, they were met by demonstrators who intended to stand in the way. On Monday, Essayli announced that his prosecutors would use social media and video evidence to pursue protesters who threw objects at officers. Yesterday, two protesters were charged with possessing Molotov cocktails, which Essayli said would be punished by up to 10 years in prison.

‘I don’t care who you are—if you impede federal agents, you will be arrested and prosecuted,’ Essayli wrote on X after Huerta’s arrest on June 6.

Immigrant advocacy and LGBTQ+ rights organizations allege that he intends to use that authority to ‘prosecute his political opponents.’

(Politico does not mention it here, but Huerta was arrested for obstruction—not for possessing Molotov cocktails. Those charges were filed against two other individuals several days later. The sequencing, however, makes that distinction easy to miss.)

Let’s pause there.

Politico sets the frame by describing Essayli’s law enforcement efforts as clashing with “the most basic form of dissent: public protest,” laundering the entire episode into a free-speech narrative.

But it doesn’t stop there—the piece further paints the enforcement actions as “targeted raids of migrant communities,” a phrase calculated to suggest ethnic profiling, community-wide oppression, and indiscriminate persecution.

Never mind that the targets were criminal operations and individuals facing specific legal actions—Politico primes the reader to view the entire endeavor not as law enforcement, but as a campaign of intimidation against the vulnerable.

Then comes the surveillance imagery—he would use social media and video evidence.

And then the Molotov charges were dropped as an almost incidental aside.

All of this is designed to downplay the severity of the crimes in question and to precondition the reader to view any federal response as heavy-handed.

Politico spends one breath describing an active federal criminal case involving Molotov cocktails—a crime that can result in a decade in prison. And in the next, it folds in LGBTQ+ and immigration advocacy groups, framing them as potential victims of an allegedly overzealous U.S. attorney.

There is no evidence offered. No specific claim is tied to the case—just the juxtaposition—an insinuation by proximity.

Are these advocacy groups being accused by Politico of making or throwing Molotovs? Obviously not.

Are they being investigated by the Department of Justice? No evidence of that either.

But by sandwiching them in the same narrative, Politico pulls a manipulative sleight of hand: it implies that prosecuting violent crime is politically suspect—either because the perpetrators might belong to a protected class, or because advocacy groups happen to oppose the administration.

And Politico knows exactly what it is doing.

When a U.S. attorney publicly states, “If you impede federal agents, you will be arrested and prosecuted,” and Politico immediately follows with a pivot to minority advocacy groups calling him oppressive, you know you aren’t reading a news report. You’re watching a story being staged.

And this isn’t some oversight in editing—it is a calibrated method to delegitimize the law enforcement process by framing it as inherently discriminatory, a way of recasting criminal acts—even violent ones involving explosives—as mere protest.

If the protestors happen to belong to a group protected by progressive orthodoxy, the law itself must be suspect.

So let’s be clear:

Throwing incendiary devices at federal agents is not a First Amendment right. It is not protected speech. It is not “dissent.”

It is a felony.

And impeding law enforcement can absolutely cross the line into obstruction of justice—a federal crime in its own right, not a protected form of political expression.

You can oppose immigration raids. You can protest immigration policy. You can even campaign against the U.S. attorney. But you don’t get to physically attack law enforcement and then cry persecution when the law responds.

What Politico tried to do—and what too many others in the corporate press now mimic—is flatten distinctions that matter.

They conflate legitimate federal authority with oppression. They weaponize identity to discredit law enforcement. And they recast criminality as virtue when it fits the political script.

And the manipulation did not stop there.

Politico goes on to describe a pressure campaign organized by Essayli’s opponents to block his official confirmation as U.S. Attorney. 

The group, called “Stop Essayli,” is lobbying California Senators Alex Padilla and Adam Schiff—both Democrats—to reject his appointment and strip him of the office. 

But Politico doesn’t even wait for the body copy to set the tone: in the headline itself, Essayli is labeled a “MAGA Prosecutor”—a partisan tag meant to delegitimize not only his role, but the millions of Americans who supported President Trump, before the reader ever reaches the first paragraph.

Then comes the rhetorical kicker: the effort aims to “rid” Essayli from office—language that echoes dehumanizing tropes more suited to pests than public officials.

It’s a subtle but insidious maneuver—one that primes the reader to see this U.S. attorney not as a legitimate legal authority, but as a political contaminant to be purged.

Yet once again, there is no evidence of misconduct. No showing of abuse of power. Just performative, stage-crafted outrage over the fact that a federal prosecutor is—brace yourself—prosecuting.

We’re being conscripted into a narrative war—one where facts are optional, context is erased, and justice is redefined by who can emote the loudest.

As I mentioned in the earlier piece, the best defense is a good offense.

It’s time to call it what it is. Again.

Gonzo gaslighting. Weaponized coverage. And the deliberate erosion of the rule of law—where legitimate law enforcement is reframed as persecution, and conservative public officials are systematically dehumanized.

All courtesy of the same syndicate that styled themselves as defenders of the rule of law—and of law enforcement—until November 5, 2024.

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. His commentary has been featured in American Thinker and linked across multiple RealClear platforms, including RealClearPolitics, RealClearWorld, RealClearDefense, RealClearHistory, and RealClearPolicy. X: @CharltonAllenNC

Image: Politico logo.