For some of us, those threats have come very close
In the long arc of democratic governance, the judiciary has always depended on a kind of civic faith — that its independence would be honored, its members protected by the legitimacy of the institution itself. That faith is now being supplemented with bulletproof vests. On a July Tuesday in Washington, Justices Elena Kagan and Amy Coney Barrett appeared before Congress not to argue law but to describe a world in which threats against federal judges have become routine, swatting incidents arrive at family homes, and anonymous pizza deliveries invoke the name of a murdered young man as a message. The court's $14.6 million security request is, in its way, a measure of how far the distance has grown between the ideal of blind justice and the reality of those who administer it.
- The Supreme Court Police anticipate a 38% surge in threats for 2026, with 370 threats logged and 512 federal investigations already underway by early July.
- Justice Barrett was issued a bulletproof vest after the Dobbs leak and had to explain its purpose to her then-12-year-old son; six weeks before her testimony, a swatting call sent police cars to her front door.
- Anonymous pizza deliveries — ordered in the name of a judge's murdered son — have been sent to justices' homes in what Barrett described plainly as attempts to intimidate and influence decisions.
- Both Kagan and Barrett drew a sharp line between legitimate criticism and coercion, citing inflammatory rhetoric from figures across the political spectrum, including Senate and presidential voices.
- Congressional response appears bipartisan, with committee chairs from both parties affirming that judicial officers must be able to work without fear — and that the funding to make that possible should follow.
On a Tuesday in mid-July, Justices Elena Kagan and Amy Coney Barrett appeared before House and Senate subcommittees with a request that would have seemed extraordinary in another era: $14.6 million to keep themselves and their colleagues alive. The Supreme Court Police were anticipating a 38 percent increase in threats for 2026. Across the broader federal judiciary, significant security incidents had risen 57 percent in the prior fiscal year. By early July, 370 threats against judges had already been recorded, with the U.S. Marshals Service running 512 investigations. Kagan told lawmakers without ceremony: for some justices, those threats had already come very close.
Barrett's testimony gave the statistics a human face. After the leak of the decision overturning Roe v. Wade, she was issued a bulletproof vest — and found herself explaining to her then-12-year-old son what it was and why she had to wear it. Six weeks before her congressional appearance, her home was swatted: her teenage son opened the front door to find police cars responding to a fabricated report of gunshots. The officers outside coordinated with local police to resolve the false alarm, but the moment had already happened in her family's life.
Both justices also described a pattern of intimidation that had become almost routine — anonymous pizza deliveries sent to judges' homes, ordered in the name of Daniel Anderl, the 20-year-old son of U.S. District Judge Esther Salas, who was shot and killed at their New Jersey home in 2020. Barrett called these deliveries what they were: attempts to intimidate and influence judicial decisions.
Kagan was careful to distinguish criticism from coercion. Criticism of rulings, she said, was fair game. But when political figures of any stripe attempt to pressure judges through intimidation, a line has been crossed. She cited rhetoric from both parties — Chuck Schumer's 2020 warning to justices about releasing the whirlwind, and more recent attacks from President Trump, who had called justices weak, stupid, and fools after rulings against his tariff policies.
The congressional response was notably bipartisan. Sen. Susan Collins called it appalling that inflammatory rhetoric was coming from public officials on both sides of the aisle. Rep. David Joyce affirmed that judicial officers must be able to work without fear for their families. Rep. Steny Hoyer called for sufficient funding to protect all judicial personnel. The court's request — which also included $6.5 million for a visitor screening facility and $2.3 million for cybersecurity — appeared likely to move forward. What the testimony left behind was a portrait of a branch of government no longer protected by the abstract authority of its role, but by officers, vests, and budget line items — and children who now know what those things mean.
On a Tuesday in mid-July, two Supreme Court justices walked into Congress to ask for money—not for the court's operations or its staff, but for protection. Elena Kagan and Amy Coney Barrett testified before House and Senate subcommittees about a straightforward problem: the people trying to hurt them, or worse, were multiplying. The court was requesting $14.6 million in additional security funding, enough to assign six more officers to each justice's detail and to cover travel protection when they left Washington.
The numbers behind the request told a stark story. The Supreme Court Police anticipated a 38 percent jump in threats for 2026. Across the federal judiciary more broadly, security incidents of significant concern had risen 57 percent in the previous fiscal year. As of early July, there had been 370 threats against judges already that year, with the U.S. Marshals Service conducting 512 investigations. Kagan told lawmakers plainly: "For some of us, those threats have come very close, and all of us live with the knowledge that they may again materialize."
Barrett's testimony made the abstract concrete. She described being given a bulletproof vest after the leak of the decision overturning Roe v. Wade—and having to explain to her then-12-year-old son what it was and why she needed to wear it. Six weeks before her testimony, her home had been the target of a swatting incident. Her teenage son opened the door to find police cars responding to a false report of gunshots and raised voices. The Supreme Court Police stationed outside her house coordinated with local officers to clear up the misunderstanding, but the moment had happened. It had been real.
Both justices addressed a pattern of intimidation that had become routine. Judges across the country, including members of the Supreme Court, had received anonymous pizza deliveries to their homes—ordered in the name of Daniel Anderl, the 20-year-old son of U.S. District Judge Esther Salas who was shot and killed by a disgruntled lawyer at their New Jersey home in 2020. Barrett called these deliveries what they were: attempts to intimidate and influence judicial decisions. "It's hard to interpret, particularly those anonymous deliveries that are sent in the name of Judge Salas's murdered son, as anything other than an attempt to intimidate and influence decisions," she told senators.
Kagan and Barrett were careful to separate legitimate criticism from something darker. "Criticism of the court's rulings are fair game," Kagan said. But she drew a line at intimidation. "When political figures of any stripe are trying to intimidate judges and justices to do things that they like rather than the things that they don't, that's where we really have crossed the line." She pointed to inflammatory rhetoric from both parties—citing comments from Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer in 2020 about justices "releasing the whirlwind," and more recent attacks from President Trump, who had called some justices "weak, stupid, and bad" and "fools and lapdogs" after they ruled against his tariff policies.
Sen. Susan Collins, the Maine Republican leading the Senate Appropriations Committee, echoed the concern. "It is increasingly dangerous to be a Supreme Court justice these days, and it's appalling to me that some of the rhetoric is coming from public officials on both sides of the aisle who should know better," she said. The congressional response appeared ready to move forward. Rep. David Joyce, the Ohio Republican chairing the House subcommittee, said judicial officers "must be able to do their jobs without fear for their safety or their family's safety." Rep. Steny Hoyer, the top Democrat on the panel, called for Congress to "provide sufficient funding to ensure the safety of all judicial personnel."
The justices' testimony also touched on other budget requests—$6.5 million for a visitor screening facility outside the Supreme Court building, and $2.3 million for cybersecurity improvements. But the security funding dominated the conversation, and for good reason. Each justice currently had between four and eight officers assigned to their detail, a number that could increase during periods of heightened threat or public appearances. The request for six additional agents per justice represented a significant expansion of what had already become the court's largest budget category. Kagan noted that recent increases to the court's budget had been "almost entirely" for security since the Supreme Court Police took over residential protection from the U.S. Marshals Service.
What emerged from the testimony was a portrait of a branch of government under siege—not from legal challenge or political disagreement, but from threats of violence that had moved from abstract possibility to lived reality. Justices were wearing bulletproof vests. Their children were witnessing police responses to false alarms at their homes. The court was asking Congress for millions to keep its members safe. And Congress appeared ready to say yes.
Citações Notáveis
For some of us, those threats have come very close, and all of us live with the knowledge that they may again materialize.— Justice Elena Kagan, testifying before Congress
It is increasingly dangerous to be a Supreme Court justice these days, and it's appalling to me that some of the rhetoric is coming from public officials on both sides of the aisle who should know better.— Sen. Susan Collins, Maine Republican and Senate Appropriations Committee chair
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does this matter now? Threats against public figures aren't new.
The scale has changed. A 38 percent anticipated increase in threats in a single year isn't a trend—it's a rupture. And these aren't abstract threats. They're showing up at justices' homes, at their children's doors.
Barrett mentioned her son seeing police cars. That seems like the kind of detail that shouldn't matter, but it does.
It matters because it shows what intimidation actually costs. It's not just about the justice's safety. It's about what happens to a family when the job becomes dangerous enough that you need a bulletproof vest and your child has to understand why.
Both justices were careful to say criticism of rulings is fair game. Why make that distinction?
Because they're trying to preserve something—the idea that you can disagree with the court without threatening it. But the distinction is getting harder to maintain when the same political figures who attack decisions are also, implicitly or explicitly, creating an environment where violence feels possible.
The pizza deliveries sent in a dead boy's name—that's almost theatrical in its cruelty.
It is. And that's the point. It's not just a threat. It's a message designed to remind judges of a specific tragedy, to suggest that defiance has consequences. It's psychological warfare dressed up as a prank.
Congress seems ready to fund this. Does money actually solve the problem?
No. Money buys protection, not safety. It lets justices do their jobs without constant fear for their families. But it doesn't address why the threats are escalating in the first place—the polarization, the rhetoric, the sense that the court is a legitimate target for intimidation.
What happens if Congress doesn't fund it?
The court continues operating with inadequate protection while threats keep rising. Or justices start making decisions differently, knowing the personal cost of ruling against powerful interests. Either way, something breaks.