A jury just let a man walk free after he openly fantasized about violence against President Donald Trump. Peter Stinson, a former Coast Guard officer, was acquitted of soliciting a crime of violence despite posts that many would find beyond the pale. This case isn’t just a courtroom drama; it’s a lightning rod for the clash between free speech and public safety.
According to Fox News, here’s the crux: Stinson faced charges for urging violence against Trump, but after a swift two-day trial, the jury cleared him of the single solicitation charge, raising eyebrows about where the First Amendment’s protections end.
Let’s rewind to how this started. Stinson, a longtime Coast Guard veteran, took to platforms like X and Bluesky with incendiary posts, including a call for someone to "take the shot" against Trump. His words weren’t subtle, and they painted a vivid, disturbing picture of hostility.
Digging deeper, Stinson didn’t hold back, writing that he’d personally "twist the knife" after harming Trump. “I would twist the knife after sliding it into [Trump’s] fatty flesh,” he posted, a statement that’s hard to read as anything but vicious (Peter Stinson). Yet, his defense claimed this was mere political venting, not a crime.
During the height of the COVID-19 crisis, Stinson also wrote, “He wants us dead. I can say the same thing about him,” referring to Trump (Peter Stinson). It’s a sentiment that, while raw, echoes the heated rhetoric we’ve all seen online—hardly a justification, but context matters. Initially slapped with two counts of threatening the president, Stinson saw the Department of Justice pivot to a single solicitation charge. Their argument? His violent musings, paired with his self-identification as an Antifa member, crossed a legal line—but the jury wasn’t buying it.
Stinson’s legal team leaned hard on the First Amendment, arguing his posts lacked the specificity and immediacy needed to be criminal. They insisted his words were political advocacy, not incitement, and the jury’s quick verdict suggests they agreed. It’s a win for speech, perhaps, but a head-scratcher for those worried about escalating political venom.
The backdrop to this case couldn’t be more tense. Political violence is spiking, with incidents like the tragic assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, attacks on immigration enforcement officers, and ongoing threats to figures across the political spectrum. Stinson’s acquittal lands like a grenade in this already volatile landscape.
Compare this to other cases where speech turned actionable. A man convicted for attempting to harm Justice Brett Kavanaugh in 2022 took concrete steps—online searches, armed presence near Kavanaugh’s home—that crossed into clear danger. Stinson’s case, lacking such specifics, seems to skate on thinner legal ice.
Then there’s the January 6 rioter convicted of firearms charges and making a hoax threat against former President Barack Obama. Livestreaming near Obama’s neighborhood with talk of detonators, armed with a machete and illegal weapons, earned him a sentence of time served this week. That’s a stark contrast to Stinson’s free pass.
Another ongoing case involves a man charged with threatening federal judges through graphic messages on the Supreme Court’s website. A judge refused to dismiss it on free speech grounds, leaving it to a jury to decide. These cases show the judiciary wrestling with the same thorny question: when does speech become a crime?
History offers some guidance, like the 1969 Supreme Court ruling on a Vietnam War protester’s hyperbolic remark about harming President Lyndon Johnson. Deemed political hyperbole, not a true threat, it set a high bar for prosecution. Stinson’s case seems to echo that precedent, for better or worse.
Attorney General Pam Bondi, reacting to Charlie Kirk’s assassination, initially vowed to target hate speech before clarifying that only threats of violence are prosecutable. Her stance reflects the tightrope walk between curbing dangerous rhetoric and respecting constitutional rights. It’s a messy line, and Stinson’s case just blurred it further.
Critics of progressive overreach might argue this acquittal exposes a double standard—imagine the outrage if similar words targeted a left-leaning figure. Yet, the First Amendment doesn’t pick sides, even if its application sometimes feels like a cultural Rorschach test. The question remains: are we safeguarding liberty or inviting chaos?
Ultimately, Stinson’s acquittal isn’t just about one man’s rants—it’s a mirror to our fractured discourse. Political figures across the board face routine threats, from public forums to private messages, and this verdict won’t cool those tempers. If anything, it’s a reminder that words, even protected ones, can still wound a nation’s psyche.
