Ever wonder if the folks who once guarded our laws could switch gears to make them? That's the intriguing twist unfolding as several former Justice Department attorneys, disillusioned by recent policy shifts under President Trump's second term, are stepping into the political ring to challenge the very system they once served.
According to CBS News, from Pennsylvania to Seattle, these career prosecutors are trading courtroom battles for campaign trails, citing a politicized Justice Department as their motivation to seek elected office.
The exodus began with notable resignations, like that of Hetal Doshi, who left her post as deputy assistant attorney general for the Antitrust Division in January when Trump was sworn in, now aiming for Colorado attorney general next year.
Following closely, Ryan Crosswell, a longtime federal prosecutor, resigned on Feb. 17, protesting the Justice Department's decision to drop a corruption case against New York Mayor Eric Adams and the gutting of the public integrity division.
Crosswell, now running for the Democratic nomination in Pennsylvania's competitive 7th District, has raised over $300,000 since June, though he’s up against incumbent Republican Rep. Ryan MacKenzie's hefty $1.4 million war chest.
As a Marine reservist, Crosswell leans on his service record, stating, "If you're a Marine and you're a former prosecutor, you are protecting people." Admirable, sure, but one wonders if military grit and legal chops translate to political savvy in a district that flipped red in recent years.
Similarly, Erika Evans exited her "dream job" at the Justice Department in March, disturbed by the dismantling of the Civil Rights Division, and is now seeking the city attorney position in Seattle with primaries looming on Tuesday.
Evans, granddaughter of civil rights icon Lee Evans, didn’t mince words, saying, "We received emails requiring that we report any colleagues doing diversity work." Such mandates raise eyebrows—shouldn’t a department of justice prioritize fairness over ideological purges?
Her campaign video boldly promises to "take on Trump" for community safety, a fiery pledge that might resonate with voters but risks sounding more like a personal vendetta than a policy platform.
Then there’s Victor Salgado, who anticipated the shakeup in the Public Integrity Division and prepared to leave on Election Night last year, later running for lieutenant governor in Virginia’s June primary, though he only garnered about 5% of the vote.
Salgado, with a decorated career including a major cryptocurrency investigation, admitted, "I was just reading tea leaves" about Trump’s influence. Predicting doom is one thing, but jumping ship before the storm even hits might not scream steadfast leadership to voters.
Meanwhile, Doshi, reflecting on her departure, told CBS News the changes "really weighed on my heart." Heartfelt, no doubt, but when the rule of law is at stake, conservatives might argue emotions shouldn’t steer the ship of state.
These candidates, none with prior political experience, are united in criticizing what they see as a politicized Justice Department, a concern that resonates even among those who support Trump’s broader agenda of shaking up bloated bureaucracies.
Yet, as Stacey Young of the Justice Connection noted, it’s "rare for career DOJ attorneys to run for office" due to their aversion to partisanship. Could this wave of candidacies signal a troubling blurring of lines between justice and politics, ironically, the very issue they protest?
While their campaigns—laden with personal stories like Crosswell’s coal town roots or Doshi’s first-generation American narrative—aim to connect with voters, skeptics might ask if these newcomers are ready to navigate the rough-and-tumble of elected office or if they’re just riding a wave of anti-Trump sentiment. After all, shaking up a department doesn’t mean dismantling justice; it could mean cutting through years of entrenched progressive bias, though the optics of dropping high-profile cases certainly don’t help the administration’s case.
