Forget the Victims—Let’s Cry for the Cartels, Right?

So apparently in modern America, criminals have a fan club. Forget the victims—the real tragedy, we’re told, is that the poor drug traffickers didn’t get tucked into bed and handed a taxpayer-funded lawyer before their boat got turned into confetti.

Eleven guys on a floating pharmacy, knowingly breaking laws that come with deadly consequences. The Navy makes them an unscheduled fireworks show, and suddenly the outrage isn’t “look at the poison they were pushing,” it’s “oh no, did we blow them up politely?”

For years, we’ve arrested these clowns, fed them three meals a day, and gave them free gym time—all on your dime. Meanwhile, their buddies keep shipping poison strong enough to drop a rhino. But sure, let’s keep the “catch and release” program alive so they can rest up and try again.

Politicians say crime can’t be controlled, like it’s the weather. But the second someone proves you can hit crime hard, those same politicians start acting like cartel defense attorneys. Because God forbid criminals ever feel consequences—might hurt their self-esteem.

These guys aren’t just pushing drugs anymore—they’re cooking up products that come with a free death certificate. And yet, the conversation isn’t about saving lives. Nope, it’s about whether we gave Pablo and his friends a fair chance before they went scuba diving without gear.

So I’ll ask again, America: when do we stop babysitting criminals and start treating them like what they are—volunteers for Darwin Awards?