My grandparents split their time between a small condo in the city and a small cabin in the woods on a lake, about 35-40 minutes from my hometown. Up into high school, I spent a lot of time there, especially during the summers, where I would sometimes be there for 10-14 days per visit. My older brother would go out there as well, but we rarely went together. It was perhaps in part just easier for my grandparents to have one grandkid at a time, but also because of the age difference (6 years), it was harder to find something to do together that interested us both. Though, really both of our most favorite activities out there were pretty similar: swimming and fishing in the lake, riding ATVs, shooting bb and pellet guns, and just exploring the woods. Nevertheless, I enjoyed my time with my grandparents immensely growing up when I got to visit “the cabin.” There were some rules and reminders, but it was pretty easygoing otherwise.

My grandpa had a checklist by the door of all the things he needed to remember to do on a daily basis; for when he went back to the condo; and for when he was going to be gone for an extended period of time (which was rarely). There were also a couple of general reminders aimed more at us kids and other visitors, and the ones that stick out the most upon reflection are about varmint control. My grandpa had a shoot-to-kill policy on chipmunks because they got into the sheds and ate the bird and deer feed, and he didn’t like the moles and voles digging up holes on the perimeter of the house, so those were open season, too – something my brother had no problem taking advantage of. My grandma was a birder, and she had little tolerance for the “bully” birds, like blue jays, brown-headed cowbirds, and grackles. They picked on the other birds, like the junco, vireo, and the titmouse, so those bigger nuisances were also fair game. I didn’t think much of it, and I didn’t have the stomach for it, as after all, I was a critter lover. Thus, I did not typically participate in these extrajudicial killings. Except for once.

Think about the consequences of your actions. There is reason not to pull the trigger, for if you do, the collateral damage may never stop. (Image retrieved from here and comes courtesy of Tima Miroshnichenko.)

Sitting on the front porch one evening before dusk, I was shooting the wooden door of one of the garages – a permissible activity, for nobody cared about its aesthetics and it was a very wide target away from people with little around or beyond it that could get damaged. I would often size up some rodent or bird in the closer proximity through the gunsight, but I rarely pulled the trigger. On a few occasions when I did, I felt terrible, but relieved that I was such a bad shot, as I really didn’t want to kill anything. Then, on that fateful night, a red-winged blackbird swooped in and started harassing a few wrens and a stray titmouse and I pulled the trigger once more, killing the intended target, albeit shocked that I was able to finally align hand and eye in coordinated fashion.

All the other birds dispersed, and I ran up to it, wide-eyed and speechless, immediately noticing that I’d killed this bird – who, to be fair, was a nuisance, but was in his own territory doing what birds do. I started to cry, and I ran and told my grandma. She was probably happy for one less pest in her sanctuary but understood that I was hurt and confused by my actions. She explained to me that I did a good thing and then had me take the dead bird out back to the sloped hill behind the house and bury it amongst the leaves. I never shot at another living being at my grandparents’ place again. I don’t know that I learned a lesson per se, but I did realize in that moment the fragility of life and how easily it can be ended. I also saw how an arbitrary action can be so consequential. And then I struggled with justifying the killing of this bird, even if it was reasonable to speculate that he’d been a pest and made other birds’ lives hell. It was not a good feeling because I didn’t think the punishment fit the crime.

The president of the United States, among all his scandals, illiberal and corrupt behaviors, and flaunting of norms and precedent, has somehow managed to step even farther past the red line of a democratic society by engaging in the extrajudicial killings of alleged drug traffickers in the waters of the Caribbean; on five separate occasions at the time of writing (October 20, 2025). His vice president, JD Vance, has said he doesn’t “give a shit” if these murders are illegal – which they surely are. Absent due process, not to mention the enactment of capital punishment for nonviolent activity (if the allegations of drug smuggling are true) in international waters, Trump & Co. operate under the banner of no restraint and no respect for laws or life. While we may never know the true identities or intentions of those killed, there is cause to believe that some of those whose lives were taken without reason or respect for humanity were fisherman, simply out doing a day’s work. But even if they were engaged in illicit behavior, this is still not an appropriate course of action – to put it mildly.

But it’s not the first heinous or egregious act of shock and violence and disrespect for human life and dignity taken by this president; those accrue by the day, whether it be through the Gestapo-like raids from the unrestrained and ever-growing legions of ICE, leading to deportations of those detained to countries with which they have no affiliation, or through the rhetoric they spew that does nothing but rile up the vilest of their base to behave as mercenaries in their quest to vanquish anyone not in lockstep with their ideology. Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt said of Democrats and those to the left of the center that they are made up of “Hamas terrorists, illegal aliens, and violent criminals.” It appears she doesn’t even “assume” that there any are “good people” amongst that faction any longer, an allowance Trump at least tacked on to one of his more memorable comments he made while on the campaign trail in 2015 about Mexicans.

While many surely support these abhorrent, indefensible, and illegal actions, others remain unaffected, simply because it’s not happening to them or anyone they know. Others justify that these types of things only happen to those who aren’t citizens of the United States – for now, maybe. But the slope is slippery to authoritarianism, and Trump has already started his police state, eroded trust in elections, the federal government, and civil servants, and cleaved a crevasse between the left and the right so wide that we can no longer even shout across it. Trump and his army of sycophants, including his consiglieres in his cabinet and his spin doctors in the rightwing media, have all sacrificed their credibility, their moral compasses, and their dignity to be as close to power as possible. All of the things they’ve railed about against the left – and to be fair, there is a lot wrong with the left worthy of criticism and reform (but nowhere near as much as what’s happening on the right these days) – they’ve now embraced. Whether it’s issues related to identity, free speech, or using the government as a weapon, Trump’s Republicans are a clear contradiction to what they formerly espoused, now dripping with insincerity and deceit, a true legion of Janus-faced combatants who have no will other than to appease Teflon Don.

The United States is coming up on 250 years, and it may well end up being an expiration date rather than a birthday. It was fun for a while, but now it’s just painful to watch it all unravel so fluidly and without anyone capable enough or willing to challenge our collective demise. What else will we see happen that we always thought imaginable? I’m scared to find out.

Marco Esquandoles
Front Row at the Dumpster Fire