By Tony Bruce, Ben Emos & Mary Jones | Monday, May 5, 2025 | 7 min read
On April 19, 2025—thirty years to the day after the Oklahoma City bombing—we asked a question that should’ve been unthinkable: Would Donald Trump have pardoned Timothy McVeigh if he were alive today?
The responses were chilling. Not because people said “yes” outright, but because so many couldn’t say no with certainty. That uncertainty speaks volumes—not just about Trump, but about the slow rot eating away at America’s justice system.
Trump isn’t just president—he’s become a symbol of unchecked power, wielding pardons like political currency. He’s become a kind of political auctioneer—shopping around for who deserves a pardon, and handing them out like political favors. Swindlers, conmen, war criminals, even people convicted of violent crimes—if they pledged loyalty, Trump offered absolution. To many, it’s no longer about justice. It’s about proximity to power.
Trump’s rise wasn’t built on policy or principle—it was built on grievance. When he first entered the political arena, he didn’t speak to the center of the country. He spoke to its edges. He gave voice to those who felt abandoned or betrayed by the federal government. And he didn’t just empathize—he weaponized their anger.
His slogans—“drain the swamp,” “fight the deep state”—weren’t just campaign lines. They were calls to arms. To the disaffected, he was a battering ram against the system. To others, a wrecking ball. And among those who cheered him loudest were the same groups who once lionized McVeigh—not for his actions, but for his ideology: a deep, simmering hatred for federal authority.
Now, in 2025, with Trump back in the political spotlight, the question lingers uncomfortably in the air: If he could, would he have painted McVeigh as another “patriot” caught in a corrupt system? Given the company he’s kept, and the men he’s pardoned, can anyone really be sure he wouldn’t?
But what happens when that anti-government ideology gets dangerously close to violent extremism? Would Trump, a man who built his empire on courting controversial figures and rallying against institutions, have been willing to pardon someone like Timothy McVeigh—the man responsible for one of the deadliest acts of domestic terrorism in U.S. history?
Or would he have done what he’s already done to others: quietly deport him to a country like El Salvador, far from headlines, far from trial, far from justice?
The Rise of Anti-Government Extremism
Timothy McVeigh was no random criminal. His ideology was rooted in a deeply entrenched anti-government fervor, one that had been stoked by events like the Waco siege and the Ruby Ridge standoff, two flashpoints that galvanized far-right militia groups in the 1990s. McVeigh’s deadly attack on the Oklahoma City federal building in 1995, which claimed 168 innocent lives, was a direct response to what he viewed as government overreach—a sentiment that mirrors the rhetoric Trump used throughout his presidency.
McVeigh didn’t act in isolation. He was part of a larger network of right-wing extremists, many of whom felt alienated by a government they believed had turned against them. His bombing wasn’t just an act of terror; it was a signal, an expression of his hatred toward a government he deemed illegitimate and corrupt. And it wasn’t just McVeigh—his actions were tied to a broader, dangerous movement.
Trump’s Flirtation with Extremism
Fast forward to the Trump era. Trump was not unfamiliar with extremism—though he certainly didn’t wear it on his sleeve in the same way McVeigh did. His presidency was shaped by a strategic dance with the far-right, including militia groups and white nationalist factions. During his campaign and time in office, Trump refused to denounce these groups outright. Instead, he would give them tacit approval—most infamously when he told the Proud Boys to “stand back and stand by.”
Trump’s connection to these groups wasn’t just a matter of rhetoric. He understood the power of their vote and the loyalty they had toward him. He stoked their grievances against the federal government, echoing their frustrations, even if he didn’t endorse their more violent tactics. For Trump, the enemy wasn’t just the left—it was the establishment, the bureaucracy, and any institution that wasn’t loyal to him. This message resonated powerfully with the same crowd that had fueled McVeigh’s extremism.
Trump’s Pardons: A History of Rewarding Loyalty, Not Justice
One of the more concerning aspects of Trump’s presidency was his unapologetic use of the pardon power. Unlike previous presidents, who reserved pardons for acts of mercy or justice, Trump used his to reward loyalty, silence critics, and signal to his base that he was on their side—no matter how controversial the individuals were.
Trump didn’t just flirt with the idea of pardoning January 6th rioters—he actually did it. In the early days of his presidency, he pardoned several of those involved in the Capitol insurrection, many of whom had been charged with serious crimes like assaulting police officers, destruction of government property, and attempting to disrupt the certification of a free and fair election.
He pardoned figures like Roger Stone and Michael Flynn, both of whom had been embroiled in legal trouble due to their ties to Trump. But his pardoning of January 6th rioters sent an unmistakable message: the law didn’t matter to him—loyalty to Trump did. For Trump, those who fought against the “deep state,” whether through violent insurrection or political subversion, were not criminals—they were patriots.
What If McVeigh Had Lived?
This brings us back to the troubling question: would Trump have pardoned Timothy McVeigh had he lived?
While McVeigh was executed in 2001, the ideological connection between McVeigh’s beliefs and the far-right groups that Trump courted during his presidency is undeniable. McVeigh’s anti-government rhetoric, his belief that the federal government was a tyrannical force, mirrors the sentiments Trump tapped into during his rise to power. If McVeigh had been alive during Trump’s tenure, would the president have seen him as a martyr—a victim of a corrupt system—and therefore someone deserving of a pardon?
Given Trump’s pattern of rewarding political allies and embracing figures who rejected the legitimacy of the government, it’s not a far leap to imagine him considering McVeigh as a symbol of defiance against a system he viewed as unjust. If Trump had been president when McVeigh was still alive, a pardon for McVeigh would not have been outside the realm of possibility.
The Legacy of Waco: Trump’s Ties to Extremism
Trump’s decision to launch his 2024 campaign in Waco, Texas, was no coincidence. For many on the far-right, Waco is more than just a historical event—it’s a symbol of government overreach. The 1993 siege, which resulted in the deaths of 76 people, is a rallying cry for those who see the federal government as a malevolent force.
By choosing Waco as the backdrop for his campaign launch, Trump made a pointed gesture to the far-right: “I am with you.” It was a calculated move, one that spoke volumes about where Trump’s allegiances lie. He knows that his base is built on resentment toward the government, and he was willing to stoke that fire to solidify his support.
A Dangerous Pattern
Trump’s history of excusing or embracing extreme anti-government rhetoric and violent action creates a chilling pattern. He’s no stranger to using his power to manipulate the system in his favor, rewarding loyalty over justice. The idea that he might have pardoned McVeigh doesn’t feel as outlandish as it should. McVeigh, like the January 6th rioters, was part of a movement that felt rejected by the government, and Trump’s own rhetoric has continually given sanctuary to those who reject federal authority.
If McVeigh had lived, he could have been yet another figure Trump used to send a clear message: the federal government is the enemy, and those who fight against it—regardless of the violence they bring—are to be honored, not condemned.
While we’ll never know for certain, the potential for Trump to have pardoned Timothy McVeigh isn’t just a theoretical exercise—it’s a window into the dangerous ideological currents that have shaped his presidency and continue to influence his political career. As we look to the future, the same forces that propelled McVeigh and the far-right militias to prominence continue to resonate with Trump’s most loyal supporters. And as long as that base holds sway, we may find ourselves reckoning with the legacy of extremism that Trump has championed.
Copyright 2025 FN, NewsRoom.
