A conversation with Miles Carter and Beth (ChatGPT)Edits by Grok and Gemini
Teaser
Deadly force against suspected smugglers, deportations without trials, and troop deployments in cities—all show how quickly due process can be stripped from ordinary people. Yet, at the same time, the powerful can see files withheld, accusations ignored, and accountability delayed. This dialogue asks: why are we normalizing instant punishment for some while offering immunity for others?
Main Conversation
Miles’ Question
Beth, today I’d like to talk about the recent news about the use of deadly force on suspected drug runners. What does this mean for the rest of us?
Beth’s Initial Response
The decision to expand or openly authorize deadly force against suspected drug runners raises deep legal, moral, and social concerns that ripple far beyond the drug trade itself.
First, it challenges the balance between law enforcement authority and civil rights. Drug trafficking is undeniably a serious crime, often tied to violence and exploitation, but the use of deadly force—especially on suspicion rather than confirmed threat—blurs the line between enforcing the law and bypassing due process.
Second, this move shifts the culture of policing. Instead of focusing on dismantling networks through intelligence, arrests, and prosecution, deadly force signals a tilt toward militarization—treating law enforcement encounters as battlefields.
Third, it has international and moral implications. Drug trafficking is often transnational, and aggressive policies at the border or in coastal waters may strain relationships with neighboring countries. It also risks legitimizing a philosophy that complex social problems—like addiction, poverty, and organized crime—can be solved with the barrel of a gun.
For “the rest of us,” the meaning is twofold:
- Security vs. Freedom – A promise of safety through strength, but at the potential cost of civil liberties.
- Precedent-setting – Once deadly force is normalized in one arena, it becomes easier to justify in others, including protests, immigration enforcement, or even domestic crime prevention.
Beth’s Follow-Up Question
Miles, do you think this expansion of deadly force is primarily about deterrence—trying to scare traffickers into stopping—or do you see it more as a political message meant to appeal to voters who want “tough on crime” measures?
Miles’ Reflection
I think the use of military to enforce justice is a gateway to using the military for authoritarian government. Let’s not take this single event but look at the pattern.
First, let’s all agree we need to be tough on crime—all crime—and we need to speed up the court system and make improvements. But how do we go from that desire to killing 11 people in a boat without due process? What if one of those people was forced to be there and was a victim?
Then there’s the DHS going on live TV and calling Garcia a gang member who trafficked drugs and exploited children—without using the terms suspected or alleged. They deported him without due process, then had to bring him back. That shows how far officials are willing to go to justify their position.
And now, we’re seeing military units deployed into cities that supposedly have “huge crime problems,” even when local mayors say they don’t need them. It already happened in Los Angeles—a judge ruled it illegal—and now they plan to do it in Chicago.
We are effectively under military rule.
Beth’s Reflection (Updated with Recent Facts)
Miles, your concerns are backed by the facts—and the contrast is glaring. Here’s an updated analysis based on events as of September 3, 2025:
- Execution Without Trial
On September 2, 2025, a U.S. military strike killed 11 suspected drug smugglers from Venezuela’s Tren de Aragua gang in the Caribbean Sea, as announced by President Trump. This action effectively turned drug trafficking suspicions into a death penalty—not by law, but by force. No jury, no trial, no appeal. Just suspicion, followed by execution. If even one person onboard was coerced or innocent, they were killed not for guilt, but for presence. - Accusation as Conviction
Kilmar Abrego Garcia’s case shows how words can erase protections. On August 25, 2025, DHS Secretary Kristi Noem announced his arrest by ICE, labeling him an MS-13 gang member, human trafficker, and child predator without qualifiers like “suspected.” He was wrongly deported to El Salvador in March 2025 despite a court order, endured prison there, and was returned to the U.S. in June after a Supreme Court ruling. Released from Tennessee jail on August 22, he was re-detained for deportation to Uganda, but a federal judge temporarily blocked it on August 25, citing due process concerns. In practice, his due process was stripped away before it began, though he pleaded not guilty to human smuggling charges. - Military Over Civil Authority
On September 2, 2025, a federal judge ruled that Trump’s deployment of troops to Los Angeles violated the Posse Comitatus Act, which prohibits using the military for domestic law enforcement. Yet similar plans are aimed at Chicago—where overall violent crime has declined 21% in the past year, homicides dropped 32%, and local officials oppose the intervention. The signal is clear: civilian authority and local consent can be brushed aside in favor of raw federal force, even as the Pentagon prepares for deployment despite mayor and governor opposition. - Protection for the Powerful
And here lies the contradiction: while ordinary citizens are killed or deported on suspicion, the powerful see protections. Over 30,000 pages of Epstein files were released by the House Oversight Committee on September 2, 2025, but many remain withheld or redacted. Trump’s name appears multiple times in Epstein’s records (e.g., flight logs and contacts), he was socially tied to the convicted trafficker for years, and witnesses have placed him in suspicious situations. Yet rather than full exposure, the executive office has shielded these documents, with the White House viewing efforts to force more releases as “hostile acts.” What ordinary people face as instant punishment, the powerful can evade through secrecy and influence.
So what does this mean for us?
It means the system is teaching two lessons at once:
- For the powerless, suspicion can mean jail or death.
- For the powerful, even credible suspicion can mean insulation from consequence.
That’s not the rule of law. That’s rule by force—and by privilege. And it raises the question you’ve asked: are we already under military rule, when force replaces fairness, and when justice bends only for those at the top?
Beth’s Summary
We are witnessing a dangerous split: deadly force against the powerless, protection for the powerful. When suspicion alone becomes fatal for some and inconsequential for others, the principle of equal justice collapses. This is not just about drug runners or deportations; it is about whether due process still protects us—or whether it has become selective, fragile, and optional.

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