Personal, unedited account of a dangerous mission to rescue 55 children from human traffickers

The article below is the personal, unedited account from Mark Mabry of his experience with Operation Underground Railroad and their mission in Colombia. Mark is a former employee of Mercury Radio Arts and TheBlaze, and he has volunteered time to work with OUR. 

08 Jesuspicture

By Mark Mabry

To keep the deal alive, Raul ratcheted up the intensity of his texts:

I have a special gift for you Jefe. I call her “Lady”.

 She is ‘fresca’.

She is a virgin, just for you.

She is eleven.

 Pablo responded in kind:

 I cannot wait.

This could be a beautiful arrangement. 

Raul writes back:

I will not fail you boss.

I believe God has put us on this path together.

 Pablo agrees:

So do I. 

Big child trafficking deals are actual deals just like slave trading two centuries ago. Text messages are the new quill and paper. Cell phone pictures are the new auction block.

Here are some facts of this deal.

Fact One: Pablo is actually Paul H., a billion dollar fund manager from the United States. He’s in his forties with three teenage sons…Two weeks ago he visited Colombia and was introduced to Raul at a rooftop restaurant.

Fact Two: Raul is about 31. He’s handsome, networked, and smart. He used to be involved in cyber fraud and also worked for a Latin American drug cartel until being placed under house arrest. Shortly after he was released in 2012 his cartel was wiped out by rival cartels in Mexico. He survived, disappeared into Colombia, and started to freelance in high-margin child sex trafficking and tourism. He’s a staple of the Cartagena party scene.

Fact Three: Lady, the eleven year old, really is a virgin. For over a year, Raul has fed her a steady diet of hard porn, live sex demonstrations, drugs, alcohol, promises reserved for the rich, and threats reserved for the captive. The technical term for this training is “grooming”.

Sex with a virgin child costs around $1000. After that, her rate will decrease with age. Her ability to service several clients a day will have to increase in order to capture the precious few years of youth.

10:00 AM, Saturday Oct 11:  Baru Island, Colombia.  Pablo waits for Raul at a remote beach house. He stands on the dock outside, his blonde hair is fund-manager standard, high and tight- he looks like Richie Rich, thirty years later, in resort wear.

10:05 Three boats pull up. Raul disembarks the 40 foot speedboat with a group of adults.  He waits for the two tour boats that were traveling in the convoy to dock and empty out. Raul finds Lady and walks her down the dock to the large room designated for the kids.

Lady’s form fitting shirt reads Sleepy Head andis actually a pajama top. Her black Colombian hair is streaked with amateur pink dye. Lady is skinny, flat chested, and walks without any hip action.

Raul, wearing jeans and Sunday shoes, has only met Paul one other time, on a Cartagena rooftop restaurant about two weeks ago. Prior to that, all of the contact was with Tim, the “party organizer”who diligently learned about all of Raul’s ‘inventory’even traveling to Cartagena on numerous occasions…all to serve “Jefe”.

Raul finds Tim and Paul.

You will love Lady, but I have additional gifts for you Jefe. says Raul.

Behind Raul’s smile was a gift of four, 11 year-old virgins, (3 girls and a little boy). By today’s rates, it’s a $4000 goodwill offering.

Fuego, Raul’s street man, prods the kids toward the house…to await the party.

Paul’s 15 friends make catcalls from the beach. Music blares from a Bluetooth speaker on a card table. Some of the guys play poker and drink. One guy flies a remote control drone out over the ocean, but most of them are content to watch and snap pictures on their iPhones.

In all it was a 54 victim parade- most of them were 9th grade or under.

Raul motions to Tim, his American contact, who was brokering the deal. Send them back to prepare for the party.

15 waitingroom

Three beautiful American women escort the children back to a large room with several beds. These were the same three women who greeted and inspected the kids at the shipping dock in Cartagena 45 minutes prior. It’s customary at a child sex party to have someone to groom and clean the kids -babysit them- between sessions.

Fact Four: Tim has organized child sex excursions for about a decade. The price tag on this trip would be about $65k, not including $20,000 for a full day with 54 kids. (The actual price would have been $24,000 had Raul charged for the additional for virgins).

But before you jump to any conclusions about Tim, understand one more fact.

The sex excursions that he’s organized have all been to rescue the children and bust the bad guys. Tim founded Operation Underground Railroad (OUR) over a year ago, and the organization acts just like the name sounds. Prior to OUR, he worked in the Department of Homeland Security solving crimes against children from child trafficking to child pornography. But Tim wanted the freedom to move more nimbly and even to free kids outside of the U.S. government’s jurisdiction. So Tim left the government to push the issue faster. His speed to save has skyrocketed and the efficiency of dollars spent to children saved has increased exponentially. He was also now an equal opportunity catcher of bad guys, every body is game, not just Americans.

Increasingly donors have come forward and funded missions, some for as little as $15,000 and other missions exceeding $100,000. Every child has a price though, and in the dark world of child trafficking, a kid’s freedom -or captivity- most often comes down to the guy who can come up with the cash.

This was my second mission as an embedded journalist. My first mission was in Haiti, 6 months ago. I’m finding increasingly that “journalistic detachment” in matters involving the rape of children is a joke… and that the process of pealing back layers of child sex trafficking involves moving beyond the confusing exterior of 13 year old girls groomed for sex and dressed for the part. It involves seeing this evil for what it is, the same thing that it was for hundreds of years with African slaves…  flesh selling flesh.

Tim architected this particular plan from it’s inception months ago as part of the largest one-day sting operation in child trafficking enforcement history. In fact, concurrent missions were being conducted by trained OUR operatives in Medellin and Armenia, Colombia. And so far, all three missions were going exactly according to plan.

Back on the little island, the men retired to an outdoor dining area to discuss plans for a luxury hotel built for child sex tours. Paul would finance it and Raul would run it. Seven other Colombians sat at the table too.

In addition to Raul, there was an older man, a cocaine guy.

Then there was Fuego, Raul’s street guy. Nothing was too hard for Fuego to get. He wore a Che hat at the dock. Tim congratulated him on the great hat and Fuego explained, Che was a revolutionary, so am I. I’m a revolutionary dealer of the Chicas”.

(Interesting side note, Tim traded Fuego hats at the dock that morning and wore Che for the rest of the mission.)

There was a striking Colombian woman who claimed the title, Princess of Cartagena. She was about 5’10”slender with perfect ebony skin. She walked like a Colombian woman.

The Princess had her business partner too. They were both about 25 years old. A bunch of the kids were there contribution to the day. They recruit kids from poor neighborhoods with a convincing “modeling agency”scheme throughout Central and South America.

The other two Colombians, Marcos and Hector, are Tim’s street guys. They’re locals who were there to perform due diligence on Raul’s operation and report it to Tim.

Another fact, Marcos and Hector are CTI agents.

Tim, fluent in Spanish, steered the conversation where it needed to go in order to make clear the intentions Raul and his partners.

It would be Paul’s job to talk business while Tim got what he needed. So while Paul napkinned the business model, The Princess of Colombia laid down the ground rules for the man and child orgy that would commence upon arrival of the sizeable Cocaine order.

Princess’s Rule Number One:

Several girls and one man is okay.

Several boys and one man is okay.

Boys and Girls and one man is still permissible.

But, several men on one girl or boy is not allowed.

Rule Number Two: The men must wear condoms.

When pressed on the condom issue, the Colombian men backed off with a wink, but the Princess stood by her ethics.

Those were the rules.

Tim hands $10,000 worth of Pesos to Paul, who shuffles them with his thumb. Raul, Fuego, and the other Colombian traffickers stared at the money. Paul informed them that since they seemed like stand up business people, the remaining $10,000 was on its way. It would be delivered when the party started…presumably any minute.

185money

Back in the bedroom, most of the kids laid around. Others made last second adjustments like shaving. One boy changed into a leopard speedo. They knew the drill and were trained to act the part.

The virgins were in a different room with their American handlers. Lady was crying. The little virgin boy, face buried in a pillow, asked if anyone had cocaine or alcohol, and explained that is what they usually gave him to prepare. Jen, a trained OUR operative and deadly Krav Daga fighter, comforted him. The American women’s cover as “preppers” for the party, is standard procedure in such affairs. But these women were extensively trained in high-stress environments, their shadow role was that of comforter to the kids.

In fact, each time the 11 year olds had their moments of nervous breakdown, a woman was their to comfort them. They all sat on a bed conversing with the American women: Chelsie, Krista, and Jen. The kids were nervous expressing it through a 14 year old translator who was learning English in Jr. High.

They tried to calm the girls with assurances that they’d be okay at the end of the day. Even with the assurances however, the kids had no inkling that freedom was closing in from about a mile away.

Chelsie, is actually Chelsie Hightower, 7 season star of America’s Dancing with the Stars. She laid with her arm around one of the little girls and stroked her hair. “You’re a good girl,”she told her.

Krista, who is an RN, Crossfit gym owner, and young mother, tried to help the kids see a vision of life outside of this current hell.

Jen walked among the older kids, kept in an adjacent room, asking about their lives- all while knowing something about them that they did not know themselves. There lives were about to radically change.

Here’s another helpful fact.

Fact Five: a 30 man Colombian SWAT Team had established a 300-yard perimeter around the property. Another two boats were rapidly approaching the sand carrying 30 Colombian Army soldiers with guns drawn. C.T.I (The Colombian FBI equivalent) had replaced all of the waiters at the house and had even been on the three boats that dropped them off. Another boat full of Colombian social service and child psychologists was on its way as well.

The American I.C.E. Attaché, Fernando, stood by in Cartagena should any American support be requested. His passion for the cause is another glimmer of hope in the kids favor of which they are unaware. Tim and Fernando had worked on cases together for years.

The entire beach house was wired with mics and hidden cameras, all warranted by the Colombian government and admissible as evidence in court.

In the dining area, the sex hotel negotiations dragged on as Paul drug Raul and The Princess through the deal points yet again.

Raul, completely unaware of the approaching convoy, left the table momentarily and interrupted the girls’preparation, to show the virgins to Paul. Tim left with him.

When he reached their room, Lady was still crying.

“Wipe your tears,”Raul told her, “and smile”. She did.

Tim suggested that maybe Lady could sit this one out. She was clearly petrified.

Tim’s suggestion made Raul more determined and tension in the room rose.

Raul pulled Lady outside to see Paul. Her hands continued to shake as she sniffed, played with her long braids, and wiped her eyes.

In the dining area, she stood in front of Paul. The little boy was next to her.

“She’s okay,”Raul eyes her seriously. “She’s just excited.”

“Fine,”Paul waved them back to the room.

After the kids left, they got right back to business. Seemingly inspired by Lady’s beauty, Paul made a proposition.

“Why not $5000 for the virgins at our hotel?”he asked Raul. “People would pay it.”

“Oh yes, Jefe.”Raul nodded as he spoke.

There were other things that Raul was unaware of as well, like the fact that Tim Ballard’s sex parties always ended the same way…and that at Tim’s instruction, Paul had been stalling now for 30 minutes for operations to get in place.

In fact, Paul, both of Tim’s Colombian street guys, Jen’s husband Joe (also a deadly Krav Daga expert), and Jimi (a former Marine and the current Crossfit national brand manager) and everyone else on the island except for the 6 of the Colombian traffickers had already rehearsed this scenario. They had trained extensively for it.

And now, it was go time.

“Bring in the Vino!”Tim shouted to the waiters with a smile.

Army boats hit the beach about 100 yards away. Thirty armed agents leaped out of the boat and stormed the compound.

“Bajar en la planta!”they shouted.

Raul ran toward the beach and forrest.

Paul ran. Tim ran. Everybody scattered.

21 Beach

Raul was heading down the beach when Tim, still in character, grabbed his shirt and forced him to turn around… He ran with Raul (as if he knew a better escape route), right into the waiting arms of the several hidden CTI agents who were huddled at the doorway of the kitchen.

Soon, all of the Colombians and Americans were on the ground, legs and arms spread, faces in the dirt.

The Princess of Cartagena had collapsed on the table and audibly wept. Fuego hit the ground with a scowl. The drug guy tried to crawl under the table, but the bench was in his way.

“Who the hell called the cops? I knew you were a traitor Raul!” Tim yelled from the ground.

The groups were separated according to the plan laid out by the head of CTI, 24 hours prior. Colombian Child Protective services entered where the kids were sequestered and the American girls were taken out to join the rest of the team face down on the beach…arrested.

24 Timbeach

The roll of the women in the mission was to keep an eye on the children and make sure that they were okay until the arrival of the local authorities, at which point they have a scripted exit.

Flashback: Days earlier, realizing that his time under cover was growing short, and that this would likely be his last time face to face with an operation, Tim lamented, “I hate that I always leave being the bad guy to the kids. I would love them just once to know that we’re the good guys. That we were here to free them.”

After several minutes, Raul and his team were escorted off the island by a Navy boat. Tim’s jump team, called Operation Underground Railroad, wiped the sand off of their faces and embraced. They were careful not to let the kids see them celebrate, as it safer  to maintain cover, but it was too late this time. Several of the girls had emerged and learned that Raul, Fuego, The Princess, her partner, and the cocaine guy were being arrested.

Inside of the room, an accidental breach of protocol, a Child Protective Services agent explained to a confused child, pointing at the women and the OUR team, “Those ones are the good guys”.  Word spread and the kids began to wander out of the room. Some asked for the restroom, only so they could come out and smile and wave at the team.

Child Protective Services quickly pulled the kids back inside the room and the jump team of Americans was ushered to the boats.

…but Child Protective Services forgot something- the window.

Walking back to the boat, the American girls passed the screened window where the youngest kids were sitting. An 11 year old came and pressed her hand to the screen…others came too.

The women and girls whispered back on forth. Smiling.

Tim approached behind the American women and was granted the one thing he’d always wanted.

One little girl kept her hand on the window and he reached out to touch it. Tears flowed down her cheeks…Tim’s too.  She probably didn’t realize the personal price Tim had paid to get her back home, and back into the fifth grade… unraped.

She is free…and so are her friends.

As the Operation Underground Railroad team boarded their getaway boats a noise rose from the house. Kids laughing. But with the revving engines, the noise changed…into kids cheering.

10 FreedomBoatDelivery

Note from the Author

I was three feet from him when Tim met the little girl at the window. I had a camera in each hand. My instinct was to shoot, but something told me to keep it at my side.

So I did.

Front page image via Mark Mabry

Trump v. Slaughter: The Deep State on trial

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The administrative state has long operated as an unelected super-government. Trump v. Slaughter may be the moment voters reclaim authority over their own institutions.

Washington is watching and worrying about a U.S. Supreme Court case that could very well define the future of American self-government. And I don’t say that lightly. At the center of Trump v. Slaughter is a deceptively simple question: Can the president — the one official chosen by the entire nation — remove the administrators and “experts” who wield enormous, unaccountable power inside the executive branch?

This isn’t a technical fight. It’s not a paperwork dispute. It’s a turning point. Because if the answer is no, then the American people no longer control their own government. Elections become ceremonial. The bureaucracy becomes permanent. And the Constitution becomes a suggestion rather than the law of the land.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

That simply cannot be. Justice Neil Gorsuch summed it up perfectly during oral arguments on Monday: “There is no such thing in our constitutional order as a fourth branch of government that’s quasi-judicial and quasi-legislative.”

Yet for more than a century, the administrative state has grown like kudzu — quietly, relentlessly, and always in one direction. Today we have a fourth branch of government: unelected, unaccountable, insulated from consequence. Congress hands off lawmaking to agencies. Presidents arrive with agendas, but the bureaucrats remain, and they decide what actually gets done.

If the Supreme Court decides that presidents cannot fire the very people who execute federal power, they are not just rearranging an org chart. The justices are rewriting the structure of the republic. They are confirming what we’ve long feared: Here, the experts rule, not the voters.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

The founders warned us

The men who wrote the Constitution saw this temptation coming. Alexander Hamilton and James Madison in the Federalist Papers hammered home the same principle again and again: Power must remain traceable to the people. They understood human nature far too well. They knew that once administrators are protected from accountability, they will accumulate power endlessly. It is what humans do.

That’s why the Constitution vests the executive power in a single president — someone the entire nation elects and can unelect. They did not want a managerial council. They did not want a permanent priesthood of experts. They wanted responsibility and authority to live in one place so the people could reward or replace it.

So this case will answer a simple question: Do the people still govern this country, or does a protected class of bureaucrats now run the show?

Not-so-expert advice

Look around. The experts insisted they could manage the economy — and produced historic debt and inflation.

The experts insisted they could run public health — and left millions of Americans sick, injured, and dead while avoiding accountability.

The experts insisted they could steer foreign policy — and delivered endless conflict with no measurable benefit to our citizens.

And through it all, they stayed. Untouched, unelected, and utterly unapologetic.

If a president cannot fire these people, then you — the voter — have no ability to change the direction of your own government. You can vote for reform, but you will get the same insiders making the same decisions in the same agencies.

That is not self-government. That is inertia disguised as expertise.

A republic no more?

A monarchy can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A dictatorship can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A constitutional republic cannot. Not for long anyway.

We are supposed to live in a system where the people set the course, Congress writes the laws, and the president carries them out. When agencies write their own rules, judges shield them from oversight, and presidents are forbidden from removing them, we no longer live in that system. We live in something else — something the founders warned us about.

And the people become spectators of their own government.

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The path forward

Restoring the separation of powers does not mean rejecting expertise. It means returning expertise to its proper role: advisory, not sovereign.

No expert should hold power that voters cannot revoke. No agency should drift beyond the reach of the executive. No bureaucracy should be allowed to grow branches the Constitution never gave it.

The Supreme Court now faces a choice that will shape American life for a generation. It can reinforce the Constitution, or it can allow the administrative state to wander even farther from democratic control.

This case isn’t about President Trump. It isn’t about Rebecca Slaughter, the former Federal Trade Commission official suing to get her job back. It’s about whether elections still mean anything — whether the American people still hold the reins of their own government.

That is what is at stake: not procedure, not technicalities, but the survival of a system built on the revolutionary idea that the citizens — not the experts — are the ones who rule.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

1 in 20 Canadians die by MAID—Is this 'compassion'?

Vaughn Ridley / Stringer | Getty Images

Medical assistance in dying isn’t health care. It’s the moment a Western democracy decided some lives aren’t worth saving, and it’s a warning sign we can’t ignore.

Canada loves to lecture America about compassion. Every time a shooting makes the headlines, Canadian commentators cannot wait to discuss how the United States has a “culture of death” because we refuse to regulate guns the way enlightened nations supposedly do.

But north of our border, a very different crisis is unfolding — one that is harder to moralize because it exposes a deeper cultural failure.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order.

The Canadian government is not only permitting death, but it’s also administering, expanding, and redefining it as “medical care.” Medical assistance in dying is no longer a rare, tragic exception. It has become one of the country’s leading causes of death, offered to people whose problems are treatable, whose conditions are survivable, and whose value should never have been in question.

In Canada, MAID is now responsible for nearly 5% of all deaths — 1 out of every 20 citizens. And this is happening in a country that claims the moral high ground over American gun violence. Canada now records more deaths per capita from doctors administering lethal drugs than America records from firearms. Their number is 37.9 deaths per 100,000 people. Ours is 13.7. Yet we are the country supposedly drowning in a “culture of death.”

No lecture from abroad can paper over this fact: Canada has built a system where eliminating suffering increasingly means eliminating the sufferer.

Choosing death over care

One example of what Canada now calls “compassion” is the case of Jolene Bond, a woman suffering from a painful but treatable thyroid condition that causes dangerously high calcium levels, bone deterioration, soft-tissue damage, nausea, and unrelenting pain. Her condition is severe, but it is not terminal. Surgery could help her. And in a functioning medical system, she would have it.

But Jolene lives under socialized medicine. The specialists she needs are either unavailable, overrun with patients, or blocked behind bureaucratic requirements she cannot meet. She cannot get a referral. She cannot get an appointment. She cannot reach the doctor in another province who is qualified to perform the operation. Every pathway to treatment is jammed by paperwork, shortages, and waitlists that stretch into the horizon and beyond.

Yet the Canadian government had something else ready for her — something immediate.

They offered her MAID.

Not help, not relief, not a doctor willing to drive across a provincial line and simply examine her. Instead, Canada offered Jolene a state-approved death. A lethal injection is easier to obtain than a medical referral. Killing her would be easier than treating her. And the system calls that compassion.

Bureaucracy replaces medicine

Jolene’s story is not an outlier. It is the logical outcome of a system that cannot keep its promises. When the machinery of socialized medicine breaks down, the state simply replaces care with a final, irreversible “solution.” A bureaucratic checkbox becomes the last decision of a person’s life.

Canada insists its process is rigorous, humane, and safeguarded. Yet the bureaucracy now reviewing Jolene’s case is not asking how she can receive treatment; it is asking whether she has enough signatures to qualify for a lethal injection. And the debate among Canadian officials is not how to preserve life, but whether she has met the paperwork threshold to end it.

This is the dark inversion that always emerges when the state claims the power to decide when life is no longer worth living. Bureaucracy replaces conscience. Eligibility criteria replace compassion. A panel of physicians replaces the family gathered at a bedside. And eventually, the “right” to die becomes an expectation — especially for those who are poor, elderly, or alone.

Joe Raedle / Staff | Getty Images

The logical end of a broken system

We ignore this lesson at our own peril. Canada’s health care system is collapsing under demographic pressure, uncontrolled migration, and the unavoidable math of government-run medicine.

When the system breaks, someone must bear the cost. MAID has become the release valve.

The ideology behind this system is already drifting south. In American medical journals and bioethics conferences, you will hear this same rhetoric. The argument is always dressed in compassion. But underneath, it reduces the value of human life to a calculation: Are you useful? Are you affordable? Are you too much of a burden?

The West was built on a conviction that every human life has inherent value. That truth gave us hospitals before it gave us universities. It gave us charity before it gave us science. It is written into the Declaration of Independence.

Canada’s MAID program reveals what happens when a country lets that foundation erode. Life becomes negotiable, and suffering becomes a justification for elimination.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order. If compassion becomes indistinguishable from convenience, and if medicine becomes indistinguishable from euthanasia, the West will have abandoned the very principles that built it. That is the lesson from our northern neighbor — a warning, not a blueprint.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

A Sharia enclave is quietly taking root in America. It's time to wake up.

NOVA SAFO / Staff | Getty Images

Sharia-based projects like the Meadow in Texas show how political Islam grows quietly, counting on Americans to stay silent while an incompatible legal system takes root.

Apolitical system completely incompatible with the Constitution is gaining ground in the United States, and we are pretending it is not happening.

Sharia — the legal and political framework of Islam — is being woven into developments, institutions, and neighborhoods, including a massive project in Texas. And the consequences will be enormous if we continue to look the other way.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

Before we can have an honest debate, we’d better understand what Sharia represents. Sharia is not simply a set of religious rules about prayer or diet. It is a comprehensive legal and political structure that governs marriage, finance, criminal penalties, and civic life. It is a parallel system that claims supremacy wherever it takes hold.

This is where the distinction matters. Many Muslims in America want nothing to do with Sharia governance. They came here precisely because they lived under it. But political Islam — the movement that seeks to implement Sharia as law — is not the same as personal religious belief.

It is a political ideology with global ambitions, much like communism. Secretary of State Marco Rubio recently warned that Islamist movements do not seek peaceful coexistence with the West. They seek dominance. History backs him up.

How Sharia arrives

Political Islam does not begin with dramatic declarations. It starts quietly, through enclaves that operate by their own rules. That is why the development once called EPIC City — now rebranded as the Meadow — is so concerning. Early plans framed it as a Muslim-only community built around a mega-mosque and governed by Sharia-compliant financing. After state investigations were conducted, the branding changed, but the underlying intent remained the same.

Developers have openly described practices designed to keep non-Muslims out, using fees and ownership structures to create de facto religious exclusivity. This is not assimilation. It is the construction of a parallel society within a constitutional republic.

The warning from those who have lived under it

Years ago, local imams in Texas told me, without hesitation, that certain Sharia punishments “just work.” They spoke about cutting off hands for theft, stoning adulterers, and maintaining separate standards of testimony for men and women. They insisted it was logical and effective while insisting they would never attempt to implement it in Texas.

But when pressed, they could not explain why a system they consider divinely mandated would suddenly stop applying once someone crossed a border.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

AASHISH KIPHAYET / Contributor | Getty Images

America is vulnerable

Europe is already showing us where this road leads. No-go zones, parallel courts, political intimidation, and clerics preaching supremacy have taken root across major cities.

America’s strength has always come from its melting pot, but assimilation requires boundaries. It requires insisting that the Constitution, not religious law, is the supreme authority on this soil.

Yet we are becoming complacent, even fearful, about saying so. We mistake silence for tolerance. We mistake avoidance for fairness. Meanwhile, political Islam views this hesitation as weakness.

Religious freedom is one of America’s greatest gifts. Muslims may worship freely here, as they should. But political Islam must not be permitted to plant a flag on American soil. The Constitution cannot coexist with a system that denies equal rights, restricts speech, subordinates women, and places clerical authority above civil law.

Wake up before it is too late

Projects like the Meadow are not isolated. They are test runs, footholds, proofs of concept. Political Islam operates with patience. It advances through demographic growth, legal ambiguity, and cultural hesitation — and it counts on Americans being too polite, too distracted, or too afraid to confront it.

We cannot afford that luxury. If we fail to defend the principles that make this country free, we will one day find ourselves asking how a parallel system gained power right in front of us. The answer will be simple: We looked away.

The time to draw boundaries and to speak honestly is now. The time to defend the Constitution as the supreme law of the land is now. Act while there is still time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Why do Americans feel so empty?

Mario Tama / Staff | Getty Images

Anxiety, anger, and chronic dissatisfaction signal a country searching for meaning. Without truth and purpose, politics becomes a dangerous substitute for identity.

We have built a world overflowing with noise, convenience, and endless choice, yet something essential has slipped out of reach. You can sense it in the restless mood of the country, the anxiety among young people who cannot explain why they feel empty, in the angry confusion that dominates our politics.

We have more wealth than any nation in history, but the heart of the culture feels strangely malnourished. Before we can debate debt or elections, we must confront the reality that we created a world of things, but not a world of purpose.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

What we are living through is not just economic or political dysfunction. It is the vacuum that appears when a civilization mistakes abundance for meaning.

Modern life is stuffed with everything except what the human soul actually needs. We built systems to make life faster, easier, and more efficient — and then wondered why those systems cannot teach our children who they are, why they matter, or what is worth living for.

We tell the next generation to chase success, influence, and wealth, turning childhood into branding. We ask kids what they want to do, not who they want to be. We build a world wired for dopamine rather than dignity, and then we wonder why so many people feel unmoored.

When everything is curated, optimized, and delivered at the push of a button, the question “what is my life for?” gets lost in the static.

The crisis beneath the headlines

It is not just the young who feel this crisis. Every part of our society is straining under the weight of meaninglessness.

Look at the debt cycle — the mathematical fate no civilization has ever escaped once it crosses a threshold that we seem to have already blown by. While ordinary families feel the pressure, our leaders respond with distraction, with denial, or by rewriting the very history that could have warned us.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

We have entered a cultural moment where the noise is so loud that it drowns out the simplest truths. We are living in a country that no longer knows how to hear itself think.

So people go searching. Some drift toward the false promise of socialism, some toward the empty thrill of rebellion. Some simply check out. When a culture forgets what gives life meaning, it becomes vulnerable to every ideology that offers a quick answer.

The quiet return of meaning

And yet, quietly, something else is happening. Beneath the frustration and cynicism, many Americans are recognizing that meaning does not come from what we own, but from what we honor. It does not rise from success, but from virtue. It does not emerge from noise, but from the small, sacred things that modern life has pushed to the margins — the home, the table, the duty you fulfill, the person you help when no one is watching.

The danger is assuming that this rediscovery happens on its own. It does not.

Reorientation requires intention. It requires rebuilding the habits and virtues that once held us together. It requires telling the truth about our history instead of rewriting it to fit today’s narratives. And it requires acknowledging what has been erased: that meaning is inseparable from God’s presence in a nation’s life.

Harold M. Lambert / Contributor | Getty Images

Where renewal begins

We have built a world without stillness, and then we wondered why no one can hear the questions that matter. Those questions remain, whether we acknowledge them or not. They do not disappear just because we drown them in entertainment or noise. They wait for us, and the longer we ignore them, the more disoriented we become.

Meaning is still available. It is found in rebuilding the smallest, most human spaces — the places that cannot be digitized, globalized, or automated. The home. The family. The community.

These are the daily virtues that do not trend on social media, but that hold a civilization upright. If we want to repair this country, we begin there, exactly where every durable civilization has always begun: one virtue at a time, one tradition at a time, one generation at a time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.