BY: Pat Trevino

Let’s imagine for a moment that the unthinkable happens right here in DeWitt County.

It’s a Monday morning. Commissioners Court is in session. Judge Fowler is reviewing the agenda. Deputies stand by the door. A few residents are waiting to speak. It’s the kind of quiet, predictable morning we all know.

Then everything changes.

A roar erupts outside. The front doors rattle. Deputies look at each other — confused, then alarmed.

And suddenly, the main entrance explodes inward.

A mob surges into the courthouse. People are shoved to the ground. A deputy is slammed against the wall. Another is knocked down the stairs.

“Get the judge out!” someone shouts.

Commissioners are rushed out a side hallway. Judge Fowler is grabbed by staff and hustled out the back door — practically dragged — as the crowd pours into the building. The courtroom is abandoned in seconds: papers left on desks, microphones still on, chairs overturned.

Inside, chaos spreads like wildfire:

• Windows shatter
• Doors are ripped off hinges
• A laptop disappears from a desk
• Mail is scattered across the hallway
• Judge Fowler’s office is ransacked
• A Bible is taken off a shelf
• A county employee’s purse is stolen
• Security equipment is torn from the walls

And then — because apparently this is something people do now — someone defecates on the floor and smears it on the walls.

The courthouse is locked down. Deputies are overwhelmed. Judges and commissioners are in hiding. The building is trashed.

Now imagine that same person turning around the next day and saying:

“I was victimized. Y’all owe me money.”

Would the people of Cuero, Yorktown, Meyersville, or Westhoff be lining up to compensate that person?

Would anyone in DeWitt County — a place where folks get mad when someone parks crooked at H‑E‑B — be passing the hat to help the courthouse defecator?

Let’s be honest: The only fund that person would qualify for is the ‘You’re Going to Jail’ fund.

Now Here’s the Part That Should Make Every Texan Stop and Think

Because everything you just imagined? It actually happened — not here, but in Washington, D.C., on January 6,2021.

And the people who did it are now potentially eligible for federal compensation under President Trump’s new $1.776 billion Anti‑Weaponization Fund.

Here’s what some January 6 defendants were actually convicted of:

Assaulting Officers

Officers were:

• Beaten with flagpoles
• Sprayed in the face with bear spray
• Crushed in doorways, screaming in pain
• Dragged down steps and beaten
• Hit with stolen riot shields and metal pipes
• Punched, kicked, stomped, and tased

One officer said it felt like a “medieval battle.” Another feared he would be killed with his own gun.

Destroying Government Property

Rioters:

• Smashed windows and doors
• Destroyed historic glass panels from the 1800s
• Ripped out panic buttons
• Ransacked the Senate Parliamentarian’s office
• Caused over $2.7 million in damage

Stealing Government Property

They carried off:

• Nancy Pelosi’s lectern
• Her laptop
• Her mail
• Police shields and batons
• A fox‑fur coat
• A Bible
• A staffer’s purse and wallet

And yes — human feces was smeared on the walls.

These are the people now eligible to apply for compensation.

Who Decides Who Gets Paid?

• Members are appointed by the Attorney General (Don’t forget Trump fired Garland and put in his own personal attorney.)
• One member must be chosen “in consultation with congressional leadership.”
• All members can be removed by President Trump.
• Claims must be processed by December 2028.
• Payments come from the Treasury Judgment Fund, an uncapped federal account.

In plain terms:

The same administration that created the fund also controls who gets the money.

And Texas — which has more January 6 defendants than any other state — will see more applicants than anywhere else.

Why DeWitt County Should Care

Because once Washington starts paying people convicted of violent crimes, it sets a precedent:

“If the federal government paid them, why not us?”

That argument will show up in rural counties — including ours.

It also sends a dangerous message to anyone thinking about confronting law enforcement:

If you frame it as political, you might get paid.

That’s not a message any sheriff, constable, or courthouse security officer wants circulating.

Final Thought

This isn’t about politics. It’s about basic common sense, something DeWitt County has never been short on.

If someone stormed our courthouse, assaulted deputies, forced our judges into hiding, stole county property, and smeared feces on the walls, nobody here would call them a victim. Nobody would be cutting them a check. And nobody would pretend it was harmless.

Sometimes the clearest way to understand national news is to imagine it happening right here at home.

And when you do, the Anti‑Weaponization Fund doesn’t look like justice — it looks like an open invitation for the next angry crowd to cash in on their own destruction.