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We hear about the phrase “lawfare” —when the government uses law enforcement or courts as a weapon to punish its opponents or shield its allies. It’s undeniable that the Biden administration has used lawfare against Donald Trump, just as Hunter Biden has found himself entangled in its web.
Even President Biden himself admitted that if Hunter weren’t his son, his legal troubles might never have happened. But while it’s easy to focus on the Trumps and the Bidens, let’s talk about the others caught in the crossfire. Let’s talk about the collateral damage—the people whose lives are upended by proximity to power, who find that truth and justice are often strangers in the courtroom.
Let’s talk about Devon Archer.
Devon Archer’s story isn’t one of privilege—it’s one of grit. The son of a middle-class family from Long Island, Archer grew up in a household built on sacrifice. His father, a Vietnam veteran carrying Purple Hearts and scars of trauma sustained in combat, instilled resilience in his children by example.
For Devon, that resilience translated into excellence. A standout athlete, he became an all-state football and lacrosse player, the kind of kid who made his peers envious and his coaches proud.
And then it all almost ended. A brutal football injury left Archer with a broken back and neck—a devastating blow that might’ve sidelined his ambitions for good. But Devon Archer didn’t quit.
He rebuilt himself, step by painful step, earning his way into Yale not on privilege but on pure determination and raw talent. There, he became an All-American lacrosse player and forged bonds with people who would go on to shape the political and financial elite of the country. One of those friends was Christopher Heinz, heir to the Heinz ketchup fortune, and together they co-founded Rosemont Capital, a private equity firm that played in the big leagues. Archer’s talent was putting together deals most people could barely comprehend, structures that danced on the razor’s edge of ambition and brilliance.
But brilliance alone wasn’t enough. One day, Archer met Hunter Biden—the son of a longtime U.S. senator and, later, the vice president of the United States. On paper, it seemed like the opportunity of a lifetime. Hunter brought connections, political capital, and a last name that opened doors Archer could never reach on his own. Together, they joined the board of Burisma Holdings, a Ukrainian energy company, and the partnership seemed destined for greatness.
Until it didn’t. Because if Archer’s life had been a story of grit, Hunter’s was one of chaos.
Hunter Biden’s struggles with addiction were no secret. The erratic behavior, the scandals, the recklessness—all of it was part of the package. What Archer saw as a chance to elevate his career became a ticking time bomb, one that detonated in 2018 when Archer was convicted of securities fraud in connection with a tribal bond scheme.
Here’s where it gets strange. The trial jury’s guilty verdict was quickly vacated by the presiding judge, who issued a sweeping 62-page ruling exonerating Archer on the grounds of innocence.
The judge concluded that Archer “lacked the requisite intent and is thus innocent of the crimes charged,” a rare moment of judicial clarity in a system that often conflates association with guilt.
For a brief moment, it seemed Archer might escape the vortex Hunter Biden had dragged him into. But that’s not how the story ends. In 2020, the Second Circuit Court of Appeals reinstated Archer’s conviction, overruling the trial judge and sending him back into a legal purgatory. Despite multiple appeals to the Supreme Court, Archer’s conviction was left intact, leaving him to face sentencing and the potential stain of a felony conviction. All this while Hunter Biden, the man who brought Archer into the deal-making orbit that unraveled his life, skated on by.
And here’s the kicker: last week, President Joe Biden announced his intention to pardon Hunter Biden for a ten-year investigation that has shadowed his son’s life. Hunter, the man who sold access and chaos in equal measure, gets a clean slate. But what about Devon Archer? What about the man who’s spent eight years fighting for his reputation while raising three kids—Lukas, 17; Lakelyn, 11; and Felix, 10? What about the father whose name has been dragged through the mud, who’s watched judges vacate and reinstate his conviction like a cruel game of legal ping-pong? Where’s his pardon?
Archer’s life has been consumed by this ordeal. Eight years—nearly half of his eldest child’s life—have been dominated by courtrooms, headlines, and the looming threat of prison. And for what? A deal he entered into in good faith, only to find himself swept up in the wreckage of Hunter Biden’s reckless orbit. The system’s response has been anything but just. Judges have literally questioned whether Archer belongs in the defendant’s chair at all, yet here he is, still waiting for the hammer to fall.
Meanwhile, Hunter Biden walks free. The president’s son has been granted every benefit of the doubt, every shield of privilege, every advantage Archer could never hope for. And now, with the stroke of his father’s pen, Hunter’s sins will be wiped away. Isn’t this the very face of what privilege looks like? Isn’t this what’s broken in our system—a system where those with the right last name escape unscathed while their collateral damage is left to fend for themselves?
Devon Archer’s story is not just about a man wronged; it’s about a system that rewards power and punishes proximity. It’s about a father trying to explain to his children why their lives have been upended, why his name has been tarnished, and why the man who dragged him into this mess is getting a second chance he may never see.
And it’s about the rest of us, watching this unfold, asking the same question Devon Archer must be asking himself: How is this justice?
Archer didn’t need to sell access; he was already in the room. But by Hunter Biden hitching his fortunes to an up and coming brilliant man like Devon Archer, he threw the Archer family into a vortex where perception and politics Trumped due process. If Joe Biden wouldn’t extend justice to Devon Archer, then we can all hope that President Trump—who knows firsthand what lawfare feels like—will step in and make Devon Archer great again.
There will be a lasting stain on the name of Joe Biden because of his pardon of his son, but the final and most glaring act of privilege was turning his back on the people Hunter Biden hurt—a legacy that might be Joe Biden’s saddest of all.
