She Calls It a Performance, Not Justice

In the charged arena of American politics, where late-night comedy bleeds into courtroom drama, Karoline Leavitt, the unflinching White House Press Secretary, has unleashed a scathing rebuke against Stephen Colbert. The trigger? Colbert’s latest monologue on *The Late Show*, a fiery soliloquy defending New York Attorney General Letitia James amid escalating accusations of prosecutorial overreach. Leavitt didn’t mince words: “She calls it a performance, not justice.” In her blistering response, delivered during a Fox News appearance that lit up conservative airwaves like a match to dry tinder, Leavitt accused the comedian of cheerleading a “desperate weaponization” of the Justice Department—one that, in her view, has morphed solemn legal proceedings into tawdry theater, with truth as the unwitting casualty.

To understand the venom in Leavitt’s words, one must rewind to the heart of the controversy. Letitia James, the progressive powerhouse who rode a wave of anti-Trump fervor to her 2018 election as New York’s top prosecutor, has long been a lightning rod. Her office spearheaded a high-profile civil fraud case against former President Donald Trump, culminating in a February 2024 verdict that slapped him with a staggering $454 million fine for inflating asset values to secure loans. James framed it as a triumph of accountability: a bulwark against a billionaire’s alleged deceit that endangered everyday investors. But to Trump allies like Leavitt, it reeks of “lawfare”—a politically motivated vendetta disguised as jurisprudence. Fast-forward to September 2025, and the tables have turned. With Trump back in the Oval Office, his administration launched a federal probe into James, scrutinizing her office’s conduct for potential ethical lapses and selective enforcement. Leavitt, ever the loyalist, hailed it as overdue reckoning. “Letitia James was actively and openly engaged in lawfare,” she declared on air, her tone a mix of righteous fury and calculated precision.

Enter Stephen Colbert, the bow-tied bard of liberal satire, whose September 22, 2025, episode turned the spotlight on James’s plight. In a segment dripping with sardonic wit, Colbert lambasted the probe as “Trump’s revenge tour on wheels,” portraying James as a beleaguered hero standing against authoritarian whims. He replayed clips of her courtroom victories, quipping, “If holding the powerful accountable is a crime, then lock me up with my tax returns.” The audience erupted in applause, but Leavitt saw red. In her rebuttal, she didn’t just counter the jokes; she eviscerated the premise. “Colbert’s not comedy—he’s complicity,” she fired back. “By glorifying this desperate weaponization, he’s turning the Justice Department into a punchline factory. Law isn’t entertainment; it’s the bedrock of our republic. And when you twist it for ratings or retribution, truth becomes collateral damage.”

Leavitt’s critique strikes at a deeper rot in America’s polarized soul. The Justice Department, once an impartial sentinel, now feels like a stage for partisan kabuki. Under James, critics argue, investigations into Trump allies—like the hush-money probe that ensnared his former fixer Michael Cohen—smacked of selective zeal, ignoring similar sins on the left. Leavitt points to James’s campaign promises, uttered in 2018: “We should have a special prosecutor looking into President Trump… because he reeks of criminality.” Was that justice or a job audition? Now, with the DOJ’s gaze fixed on James for allegedly fast-tracking Trump cases while dragging feet on others, the irony is palpable. Leavitt frames it as poetic equity: “If you wield the sword of law as a political prop, don’t cry foul when it swings back.”

Colbert, undeterred, doubled down in his next show, mocking Leavitt as “Trump’s human shield” and urging viewers to “support real justice, not this clown car of corruption.” Yet Leavitt’s riposte resonates beyond the echo chambers. In an era where 62% of Americans distrust the federal justice system—per a 2025 Pew poll—her words tap into a visceral fear: that blind justice has gone blindfolded by ideology. When late-night hosts like Colbert, with their massive platforms, amplify one side’s narrative, they risk eroding the line between fact and farce. Leavitt warns that this “performance” cheapens democracy, reducing grave matters to viral clips. Truth, she insists, isn’t a casualty we can afford.

As the probe into James unfolds, the nation watches a spectacle of its own making. Will it expose genuine abuses, or merely fuel the cycle of vengeance? Leavitt’s blast at Colbert isn’t just personal—it’s a clarion call. “Enough with the theater,” she concludes. “Let’s restore justice before the curtain falls on us all.” In a divided land, where laughter and law collide, her voice demands we choose: applause for the show, or vigilance for the substance?