Dino is one of the more inspiring and thoughtful authors in Substack. He wrote the following today:

“I’ve been up much of the night and this morning, calling my friends and associates. We’re all in agreement this isn’t a sensational headline or another political football, but that it’s an actual existential boundary crossed in full daylight.

I spent more than two decades inside the immigration system. As I mentioned in a previous response, I worked closely enough with ICE to know the difference between enforcement and domination. What happened here isn’t the hard edge of law doing difficult work. It’s restraint giving way, followed by a rush to explain force after the fact. Those are not the same thing, and anyone who’s worked inside institutions knows how dangerous that substitution is.

Renee Nicole Good’s death is first a human catastrophe. Three children lost their mother in minutes. A family shattered on a residential street. That alone should stop us. But it’s also something else. It’s a legitimacy test.

Legitimacy doesn’t come from uniforms, jurisdiction, or the seal on a press release. It comes from consent, restraint, and accountability. When armed agents kill an unarmed civilian, block medical aid, fabricate a public narrative, and walk away unnamed and untouched, legitimacy doesn’t wobble. It drains out.

This is how institutional rot actually looks. Not as chaos, but as procedure losing its moral anchor. Training shortened. Oversight treated as friction. Speed rewarded. Narrative management replacing truth. Force moving faster than accountability, then daring the rest of us to catch up.

I’ve watched institutions lose their bearings before. It almost never starts with cruelty declared. It starts with language changing. People stop saying, “We need to be careful,” and start saying, “We need to move.” Explanation gives way to assertion. Death becomes a communications problem instead of a moral rupture.

That shift matters more than any single incident, because it carries forward. What’s normalized becomes practice. What’s excused becomes precedent. What goes unchallenged becomes inheritance. Systems trained to act this way don’t self correct. They teach the behavior downward and outward until restraint feels optional and violence feels administrative.

That’s why this moment can’t be absorbed quietly.

A republic doesn’t survive on good intentions or internal assurances. It survives on boundaries that hold even when they slow things down. Especially then. If those boundaries fail here, in public, on a city street, the loss isn’t abstract. It’s civic. It’s moral. It belongs to all of us.

This isn’t about vengeance. It’s about refusing a future where power explains itself only after blood has been spilled, and even then, badly. Accountability isn’t hysteria. It’s the price of legitimacy.

If we can’t say that plainly now, then we’re not preserving order.

We’re surrendering it.”