Biden Pardons For Cheney, Fauci, Others Could Backfire: Legal Expert

In a round of last-minute pardons aimed at shielding allies from potential reprisals by President-elect Donald Trump, President Joe Biden granted clemency to a select group of individuals—but the move is not without complications for the recipients.

Former Wyoming Republican congresswoman and Jan. 6 Committee co-chair Liz Cheney and Dr. Anthony Fauci were among the limited list of pardon recipients, a gesture Biden’s aides say was intended to preempt acts of vengeance by Trump or his incoming administration.

However, legal experts were quick to point out that the pardons would not exempt either individual from having to testify under oath if subpoenaed.

Federal litigation attorney Jesse Binnall pointed out that Biden’s pardons do not shield Cheney Fauci from consequences if they lie under oath, should the GOP-controlled Congress subpoena them to testify. In his words, the pardons could be “great news” for anyone seeking to see the two prosecuted.

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HE HAD NO HOME, NO FAMILY—EXCEPT FOR THE CAT THAT SLEPT ON HIS CHEST EVERY NIGHT. “SHE CHOSE ME,” HE SAID. “THAT’S ALL THAT MATTERS.” The first time I saw him, it was just past midnight outside the 24-hour laundromat. He was curled up on a ripped camping mat like it was the softest bed in the world, the dim neon sign flickering above him. On his chest lay a small orange cat, her fur patchy, one ear half-gone. She was draped over him like she belonged there—her rise and fall perfectly in sync with his breathing. His shoes were held together with duct tape. A trash bag sat beside him in place of a backpack. You could see life had weathered him in ways most of us couldn’t imagine. I started leaving food from the café where I worked the night shift—an extra muffin, a cup of soup, once even a leftover grilled cheese from a missed pickup. He never asked. Always thanked me. And always made sure the cat ate first. One night, I finally sat down beside him and asked her name. “Hazel,” he said, gently stroking the ragged patch behind her ear. “She chose me,” he added softly, eyes on her, not me. “That’s all that matters.” Over time, I learned pieces of his story—how his brother stopped answering his calls, how his mother had passed three winters ago, how he’d tried shelters but Hazel wasn’t allowed in. “So I chose the cold,” he said simply. “Because without her… there’s nothing to come in for.” And then, last week, they were gone. Three nights in a row—no Hazel, no sleeping bag, no trace of them except the bare concrete where they’d always been. I asked around. A few people mumbled about a city crew clearing the area. No one knew where he went. No one had seen the cat. Until this morning. On my walk to work, I saw a flash of orange at the bus stop. It was Hazel. Alone. She looked right at me… like she’d been waiting. (continue reading in the 1st comment)

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