What happens when people of opposing viewpoints and diverse backgrounds work in teams, have conversations, or sit across the table from each other at holiday gatherings? This special holiday episode of the Common Ground Committee podcast discusses how we can connect with people who see the world differently.
U.S. Vice President JD Vance speaks during a news briefing in the White House on January 08, 2026 in Washington, DC.
WASHINGTON — Vice President JD Vance on Thursday forcefully defended the Immigration and Customs Enforcement officer who fatally shot 36‑year‑old Renee Good in Minneapolis, asserting the agent acted in clear self‑defense — a characterization that remains unverified as state and local officials continue to dispute the federal narrative.
Speaking from the White House briefing room, Vance said the officer “was clearly acting in self‑defense” and accused journalists of “gaslighting” the public about the circumstances of the shooting. “What you see is what you get,” he said, arguing that media outlets were manufacturing ambiguity around the incident.
But a closer look at available evidence, official statements, and witness accounts shows that several of Vance’s assertions are either unsubstantiated or directly contradicted by what is known so far.
What Vance said:
He insisted “what you see is what you get,” arguing the officer “was clearly acting in self‑defense” and that ambiguity was being invented by the media.
What reporting shows:
• Multiple news outlets note that the facts are not settled.
• Videos show nuance, and “it remains unclear exactly what took place beforehand.”
• State and local officials dispute that the shooting was self‑defense.
• Minnesota’s Bureau of Criminal Apprehension was removed from the investigation, raising concerns about transparency.
Verdict: Unsubstantiated. The investigation is ongoing, and available evidence does not support Vance’s certainty.
What Vance said:
He repeatedly claimed Good attempted to run over the officer with her car.
What reporting shows:
• This claim is disputed by witnesses and local officials.
• Her ex‑husband vehemently denied that she attempted to run anyone over.
• Videos circulating online do not conclusively show an attempt to run over the agent.
Verdict: Disputed and unverified.
What Vance said:
He framed Good as “a victim of left‑wing ideology” and suggested she was influenced by a “network” of political groups.
What reporting shows:
• Multiple outlets note Vance provided no evidence for these assertions.
• Reporting highlights that these claims were made without substantiation.
Verdict: No evidence. This is a political characterization, not a factual claim supported by reporting.
What Vance said:
He accused journalists of “gaslighting,” “propaganda,” and misrepresenting the shooting.
What reporting shows:
• This is an opinion, not a factual claim.
• However, outlets note that Vance’s narrative contradicts emerging evidence and undercuts his own administration’s earlier maximalist claims.
Verdict: Opinion, not fact. But his criticism conflicts with independent reporting.
What Vance said:
He argued that Good caused her own death by interfering with law enforcement.
What reporting shows:
• This framing is not supported by confirmed facts.
• The investigation is incomplete, and key evidence has not been publicly released.
• Minnesota’s governor expressed doubt that the federal probe will yield a “fair outcome.”
Verdict: Unproven and premature.
Across multiple claims, VP Vance presents certainty where the facts remain unsettled.
Independent reporting consistently shows:
• The investigation is incomplete.
• Key claims by Vance are disputed by witnesses, local officials, and video evidence.
• Assertions about ideology or networks lack evidence.
In short, Vance’s statements go well beyond what verified facts currently support.
As scrutiny intensifies, the Minneapolis shooting has become a flashpoint in the broader national debate over immigration enforcement, police accountability, and the role of political rhetoric in shaping public perception of high‑stakes incidents.
The Trump administration may prefer a narrative of clarity, but the facts tell a different story — one defined by gaps, contradictions, and unanswered questions. In a moment this volatile, certainty is not leadership. It is spin. And spin is the last thing the country needs when a woman has been killed, and the truth is still unfolding.
Hugo Balta is the executive editor of the Fulcrum and the publisher of the Latino News Network
Republican presidential nominee, former U.S. President Donald Trump and Democratic presidential nominee, U.S. Vice President Kamala Harris debate for the first time during the presidential election campaign at The National Constitution Center on September 10, 2024 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
One of the most telling aspects of Donald Trump’s political style isn’t a specific policy but how he talks about the world. His speeches and social media posts overflow with superlatives: “The likes of which nobody’s ever seen before,” “Numbers we’ve never seen,” and “Like nobody ever thought possible.” This constant "unprecedented" language does more than add emphasis—it triggers fear-based thinking.
Reporters have found that he uses these phrases hundreds of times each year, on almost any topic. Whether the subject is the economy, immigration, crime, or even weather, the message is always the same: everything is either an unprecedented success or failure. There’s no middle ground, nuance, or room for finding common ground.
This is not just a personal habit. It’s a deliberate strategy to shape public perception. When every issue is called the greatest, worst, biggest, or most disastrous, people react emotionally rather than think critically. Communication studies show that crisis-driven messaging strengthens partisan loyalty and hinders cross-partisan engagement. The world begins to feel in crisis, with the leader as the only solution.
Is this how we want our leader to behave? When leaders exaggerate every challenge as new or disastrous, it weakens democracy, erodes trust, and highlights divisions. Shouldn’t we want leaders who foster unity and thoughtful discussion instead?
Trump uses the same approach when talking about people. His attacks rely on extreme labels: “weak,” “lazy,” “dumb as a rock,” “crazy,” and “incompetent.” These are not criticisms of ideas or policies; they reduce people to a single exaggerated flaw.
During the 2024 presidential campaign, he called Kamala Harris “mentally impaired.” In that speech, he spent far more time mocking her intelligence and character than addressing policy differences. The goal was not to debate her ideas but to demean her as a person and make her seem unworthy before any conversation began.
Trump’s aim is not to persuade, but to dominate. He seeks to define opponents so thoroughly that people stop considering them. This approach reduces issues, treats complexity as weakness, and views cruelty as strength.
This rhetoric affects more than politics. When leaders use absolutes, people do the same. When public figures reduce opponents to caricatures, others follow. Calling every problem unprecedented or catastrophic makes it harder to build steady, patient groups needed in a democracy. Doesn’t decency matter? Isn’t our civic health tied to leaders who show restraint?
We know this because we teach it to children. We tell kids not to call names, judge by a single flaw, or win by putting others down. We teach that words can hurt, respect is vital, and disagreement doesn’t require meanness. When a leader ignores these basics, it tells us that mocking is an argument, put-downs are power, and taking someone’s dignity is just another tactic. This damage is real; it erodes the shared decency that enables a diverse society. Research on civic norms shows that playground rules, such as respect and understanding, apply to public life. Studies find that values from childhood shape adult behavior, and breaking these rules weakens society.
As a country, we want to succeed. We need strong institutions, a stable economy, and leaders who can navigate complexity. But can’t we meet these goals with honor? Don’t strength and decency go together? American history’s greatest moments—from expanding civil rights to landing on the moon—came from cooperation and humility, not insults or exaggeration.
Exaggeration may excite crowds, but it can’t sustain a nation. For that, we need commitment to truth, to each other, and to democratic values. The question isn’t whether we want America to succeed but whether we believe success requires integrity and whether we expect our leaders to live by the values we teach our children.
David L. Nevins is the publisher of The Fulcrum and co-founder and board chairman of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
US Capitol and South America. Nicolas Maduro’s capture is not the end of an era. It marks the opening act of a turbulent transition
The U.S. capture of Nicolás Maduro will be remembered as one of the most dramatic American interventions in Latin America in a generation. But the real story isn’t the raid itself. It’s what the raid reveals about the political imagination of the hemisphere—how quickly governments abandon the language of sovereignty when it becomes inconvenient, and how easily Washington slips back into the posture of regional enforcer.
The operation was months in the making, driven by a mix of narcotrafficking allegations, geopolitical anxiety, and the belief that Maduro’s security perimeter had finally cracked. The Justice Department’s $50 million bounty—an extraordinary price tag for a sitting head of state—signaled that the U.S. no longer viewed Maduro as a political problem to be negotiated with, but as a criminal target to be hunted.
That shift tells us that the United States, even under leaders who claim to reject interventionism, still defaults to force when diplomacy becomes slow or inconvenient. And it tells us that Latin America, despite decades of rhetoric about autonomy and non‑intervention, remains structurally vulnerable to the decisions made in Washington.
Predictably, governments across the region expressed shock. Some condemned the raid as a violation of sovereignty. Others issued carefully worded statements about “regional stability.” But the truth is that many of these same governments had privately urged the U.S. to “do something,” as migration pressures, criminal networks, and political instability spilled across borders.
This is the quiet contradiction at the heart of hemispheric politics: countries want the benefits of U.S. power without the responsibility of endorsing it. They want stability without fingerprints. They want intervention without admitting they asked for it.
The operation was not a spontaneous strike. It was the endpoint of a strategic buildup: intelligence escalation, regional pressure, and a belief that Maduro’s inner circle was fracturing. But the U.S. has now inherited something far more complicated than a criminal case.
It has inherited the story.
Washington will now be blamed for whatever comes next—whether Venezuela fractures, whether migration surges, whether foreign powers attempt to fill the vacuum. The U.S. chose to remove a head of state; it cannot now pretend to be a bystander to the consequences.
The country stands at a crossroads with no easy path forward:
Maduro’s capture may feel like justice to some, but justice without a plan is simply disruption.
The question now is not whether the U.S. was justified. The question is whether the hemisphere is prepared to confront the implications of what it quietly allowed to happen.
If Latin America wants sovereignty, it must build the institutions that make sovereignty real. If the U.S. wants stability, it must resist the temptation to treat military success as political strategy. And if Venezuela wants a future beyond strongmen—whether homegrown or foreign—it must craft a transition that centers legitimacy, not expedience.
Maduro’s capture is not the end of an era. It is the start of a far more complicated chapter.
Nicolas Maduro’s Capture: Sovereignty Only Matters When It’s Convenient was first published on the Latino News Network and was republished with permission.
Hugo Balta is the publisher of the Latino News Network executive editor of The Fulcrum.
When did America replace “for the people, by the people” with “for the wealthy, by the wealthy”? Wealthy donors are increasingly shaping our policies, institutions, and even the balance of power, while the American people are left as spectators, watching democracy erode before their eyes. The question is not why billionaires need wealth — they already have it. The question is why they insist on owning and controlling government — and the people.
Back in 1968, my Government teacher never spoke of powerful think tanks like the Heritage Foundation, now funded by billionaires determined to avoid paying their fair share of taxes. Yet here in 2025, these forces openly work to control the Presidency, Congress, and the Supreme Court through Project 2025. The corruption is visible everywhere. Quid pro quo and pay for play are not abstractions — they are evident in the gifts showered on Supreme Court justices.
Billionaire Harlan Crow purchased and renovated Clarence Thomas’s mother’s home, allowing her to remain rent-free. Justice Samuel Alito accepted a luxury fishing trip from hedge fund billionaire Paul Singer, whose firm later had cases before the Court. These were not harmless tokens; they were violations of ethics and moral conscience, exposing how billionaire money bends justice to privilege.
Billionaire influence seeps even into prisons, creating a pattern of billionaire privilege. The rule of law collapses when billionaires and their allies receive leniency while ordinary citizens face harsher realities. In prison, the late Jeffrey Epstein secured perks and delays unavailable to ordinary inmates. Ghislaine Maxwell, convicted of aiding his crimes, likewise received privileges that ordinary prisoners could never expect. Money and influence bend the rules of justice for the rich, while ordinary prisoners live under rigid, standardized conditions — yet we are supposed to believe that no one is above the law.
Meanwhile, across Congress, billionaire influence may be silent, but it is bold in the policies and laws they shape — and in the campaign funds that sustain leaders. The billionaire‑driven, Big Beautiful Bill is proof: it slashed Medicaid, SNAP, and student aid while delivering billions in tax breaks to the wealthy. Families in every state pay their fair share while billionaires avoid theirs.
In this current system, the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer — Republican, Democrat, or Independent, in red, blue, and purple states. The damage done by billionaires affects the well‑being of all Americans, regardless of party. Politicians in Congress do not appear to empathize with their own constituents crying out for food, housing, and healthcare relief — begging for a piece of the American dream, hanging on the promises made in the Constitution’s principles. Instead of listening, too many leaders bend to donors, leaving families desperate while billionaire interests thrive.
Trump claims to serve the forgotten men and women of America, yet he openly embraces quid pro quo. His presidency itself left a money trail — donations in, favors out — and Americans watched as it happened. He refused to divest from his businesses, allowing foreign governments and lobbyists to funnel money through his hotels. He staffed his properties with immigrant workers on temporary visas, even as he railed against immigration. His golf courses abroad carried heavy debts, yet he used taxpayer-funded trips to promote them. And now, he seeks to reacquire his former Washington, D.C. hotel, once a hub for foreign dignitaries and lobbyists, to again profit from public office. Transparency is undermined, and hypocrisy is glaring, as citizens cannot see where public duty ends and private profit begins.
At the same time, Elon Musk illustrates another dimension of billionaire privilege. The trail of money to Elon Musk is visible and cannot be overlooked. His billions are fueled not only by private ventures but also by taxpayer-funded government contracts. Musk’s billions also influenced the 2024 election, as his platforms and contracts amplified billionaire voices while ordinary citizens were drowned out. His wealth was not just private fortune — it became political leverage. In the billionaires’ world, ordinary citizens have no place. Families struggle to keep health care, while billionaires use their power to strip protections away. Equality is shattered, as billionaire money bends institutions while ordinary citizens are excluded.
By contrast, Presidents Barack Obama and Joe Biden demonstrated what it means to work for the people, by the people. Obama expanded health care through the Affordable Care Act, created jobs with the Recovery Act, and protected families with the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. Biden lowered prescription drug prices through the Inflation Reduction Act, capped insulin costs, and defended voting rights. These policies lifted ordinary Americans. Yet Project 2025 proved to be a blueprint for wealthy conservatives to control government — expanding tax cuts for billionaires, dismantling social programs, and silencing diversity.
The people elect leaders to serve us, yet too many ignore their oaths and work instead for billionaires. The Constitution they swore to uphold becomes secondary to donor checks, luxury gifts, and promises of power. Their allegiance is not to the citizens who trusted them, but to the wealthy interests that fund their campaigns and shape their votes. This betrayal is the money trail in action — democracy bent to serve the powerful, not the people. Thus, the principles of democracy — popular sovereignty, equality, justice, accountability, transparency, representation, and rule of law — are compromised when billionaire money dominates.
The money trail runs long and spreads wide. In silence, billionaire money and influence in our country are taking over our Republic. Yet silence is complicity, and when the people stay silent, they surrender to billionaire power.
To refocus on the people, to reclaim government for the people, by the people, citizens must demand campaign finance reform; insist on transparency in Congress and the Supreme Court; hold leaders accountable to their oaths; and press for binding ethics laws that prohibit donor‑driven policymaking and protect social programs from cuts designed to enrich the wealthy.
The Supreme Court must adopt enforceable ethics codes; end acceptance of gifts; strengthen recusal rules; and reaffirm equal justice under law. Citizens must also demand transparency laws requiring full disclosure of donations, lobbying contracts, and government perks; dismantle dark money networks; end gerrymandering through independent redistricting commissions; and protect election integrity with stronger safeguards.
Above all, I demand that Congress and the Supreme Court honor their oaths, hold themselves accountable, and have the courage to act ethically, make moral decisions, exercise the checks and balances, and the separation of powers. I demand that our country return to a sense of normalcy.
The money trail must be broken — and democracy restored.
Carolyn Goode is a retired educational leader and advocate for ethical leadership and healthcare justice.
