Donald Trump said there would be peace on Day One.
That’s what he promised: an end to war in Ukraine. A ceasefire in Gaza. Diplomacy with Iran. Calm in American cities. Trump declared he’d bring strength and unity back to the nation and the world.
But now that he’s been reelected and is firmly back in power, we’re living the truth behind that lie.
And that truth is blood-soaked.
This past weekend, two Democratic lawmakers in Minnesota were shot in their homes. Representative Melissa Hortman and her husband were murdered in their Brooklyn Park residence. Senator John Hoffman and his wife were shot multiple times in a separate attack in Champlin. They are expected to survive after surgery.
The assailant posed as a police officer. Badge. Uniform. This wasn’t random. This was targeted political violence. The kind of thing we used to read about in other countries with unstable democracies. Now it’s here. In our neighborhoods. In our homes.
This is what “peace” looks like under Trump’s second term.
This is what happens when democracy is suffocated beneath the weight of violent rhetoric, unchecked executive power, and a political culture that equates dissent with disloyalty.
The Day One Illusion
Trump’s “peace on Day One” pledge was never real. It was a smokescreen. A performance. A siren song for voters desperate for order in their image, even if it came at the price of freedom.
He didn’t want peace. He wanted submission.
In Gaza, the bombing resumed almost immediately after his return to office. In Ukraine, military aid was reduced, then leveraged. In Iran, veiled threats have turned into war. And here in the United States, the suppression of dissent has become local, state and federal policy.
We were told we’d see peace. But we are watching the machinery of authoritarianism accelerate—and the constitutional guardrails dissolve.
The Price of Dissent Is Now Blood
Let’s not mince words. The targeted killing of Speaker Hortman and the attempted assassination of Sen. Hoffman are not isolated events. They are part of a political moment where the cost of dissent is fatal.
We are watching a slow-motion normalization of domestic political violence. Protestors labeled “terrorists.” Faculty called “radicals.” Students expelled and surveilled. And now lawmakers murdered in their homes.
And from the Trump administration? No national address. No tears shed for a public servant whose only “crime” was believing in democracy.
This speaks volumes. And it tells us that violence has been accepted as a legitimate political tool.
“Graveyard Dead”: When Law Enforcement Becomes a Threat
As if to punctuate the point, Florida Sheriff Wayne Ivey issued this chilling warning ahead of planned protests:
“If you throw a brick, firebomb, or point a gun at one of our deputies, we will notify your family where to collect your remains—because we will kill you, graveyard dead.”
Let’s be very clear: the U.S. Constitution does not allow summary execution by police. Even if someone throws a rock, the consequence is not death. That is not how justice works in a democracy. That is how it works under authoritarian regimes—where law enforcement becomes judge, jury, and executioner.
Sheriff Ivey’s words weren’t just rhetorical flourish. They were a declaration. A chilling message to protestors: your rights are irrelevant, your life is conditional, and your resistance will be met with deadly force.
When law enforcement uses the language of lynching, when police publicly declare their willingness to kill Americans for protesting, we are past warning signs.
We are in it now.
Project 2025 and the War at Home
The Trump administration’s return to power was built on the Project 2025 blueprint—a roadmap for dismantling democratic protections and concentrating power in the executive branch.
Journalists are being blacklisted. DEI offices are being dismantled. University faculty are being fired for expressing views counter to MAGA orthodoxy. Peaceful protest is being surveilled, criminalized, and now—under threat of death.
This isn’t accidental. It’s not just chaos. It’s coordinated.
We were told that Trump’s second term would restore order. Instead, it has declared war—on democracy, on truth, and now on the bodies of those who resist.
The peace we were promised has been replaced with punitive control.
From Gaza to Champlin: One Strategy, Many Fronts
Whether it’s Iranians civilians, journalists in Gaza, protestors in Florida, or Democratic lawmakers in Minnesota—the strategy is the same: make examples out of the vocal, the brave, the principled.
Weaponize fear. Legitimize violence. Erase dissent.
And dress it up in patriotism.
In Gaza, we’ve seen U.S. backing of civilian bombings resume. In Ukraine, the signal has been clear: you are on your own. At home, ICE raids have escalated at schools and graduations but been stood down by Trump in businesses that depend on their labor (meat packing, agricultural and hotels). And now, public officials are being hunted by killers disguised as cops.
What unites these moments is not ideology—it’s impunity. A belief, now enshrined in policy, that there is no consequence for crushing resistance. No constitutional obligation to protect life if that life is inconvenient to the regime.
This Is Not Peace. This Is War.
It’s time we stop calling this “polarization.” That word is too soft. Too academic. Too abstract.
This is political warfare.
Trump’s second term isn’t about governing. It’s about dominating. And domination requires fear. Requires enemies. Requires a public too scared to resist.
We are being taught, through spectacle and silence, that challenging this administration is dangerous. That asking questions could get you fired. That speaking truth could get you killed.
The body count has started. And too many are still pretending this is business as usual.
What Now?
We cannot bring back Melissa Hortman or her husband. We cannot undo the bullets fired into Senator Hoffman’s home. But we can say this:
We will not be silent.
We will not call authoritarian violence “peace.”
We will not forget that the First Amendment guarantees not just speech, but protest, assembly, and dissent.
We will organize. We will march. We will protect each other. We will say their names. We will name this moment for what it is: the collapse of constitutional order under a president who promised peace and delivered persecution.
Because if we do not resist now, this won’t be the last time a public servant dies for daring to believe in democracy.
It will be the beginning of something much darker.
Peace was never the plan.
Control was.
And now that we see it clearly, we must decide—individually and collectively—whether we will be remembered as the generation that surrendered to silence… or as the one that stood up and refused to be made “graveyard dead.”
Please share.
In memory of speaker Hortmann.




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