They’ve arrested a judge. Not for corruption. Not for embezzlement. Not for abuse of power. But for what some are calling an act of conscience.
On April 25, Milwaukee County Circuit Judge Hannah Dugan was taken into federal custody by the FBI. The charges? Obstruction of justice and harboring an undocumented immigrant to prevent his arrest.
Rosaly Guzman
The government alleges she helped a man, Eduardo Flores Ruiz, an undocumented migrant with prior deportations and pending charges including battery and domestic abuse, evade arrest by Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents. According to the Department of Homeland Security, Ruiz was captured after a short pursuit.
To federal prosecutors, this is a simple case: a judge interfered with law enforcement. But for many watching, especially in the faith community, the story is more complicated and more human.
Judge Dugan has not yet publicly commented on the charges. But what’s clear is this: If the allegations are true, she may have acted not out of malice or political defiance, but out of moral conviction. In a moment where she believed a life was in danger, she made a choice. Not a safe choice. Perhaps not a legal one. But a righteous one.
“In a moment where she believed a life was in danger, she made a choice.”
This isn’t unprecedented. Scripture is full of stories where moral courage trumps civil compliance. The Hebrew midwives defied Pharaoh’s genocidal decree. Rahab, a Canaanite woman, hid enemy spies and lied to her own city’s authorities. Daniel prayed in defiance of royal edicts. Peter and the apostles stood before their rulers and declared, “We must obey God rather than men.”
Why did they do it? Because there are moments when human law and divine command come into tension. And in those moments, obedience to God must prevail, even at great cost.
This case is not unfolding in a vacuum. Tensions between the judiciary and the Trump administration have been growing, especially around immigration policy. Officials in the current administration have openly criticized judges who challenge or stall their enforcement strategies. Attorney General Pam Bondi has hinted at further legal scrutiny for state and local judges who “obstruct federal policy.” FBI Director Kash Patel has publicly stated that “no one is above the law, including those who wear the robe.”
Judge Hannah Dugan with a statuette of Abraham Lincoln
But here’s the uncomfortable question: What happens when the law itself fails to account for compassion?
Eduardo Ruiz, the man at the center of the controversy, is not a saint. The charges against him are serious. But Christianity, and justice itself, is not merely about the innocence of those we help. It’s about the worth of every human being, regardless of their record. When Jesus told the parable of the Good Samaritan, He made no mention of the injured man’s background, morality or legal status. Mercy was the point. Risk was part of the equation.
Some will argue Judge Dugan betrayed her oath. Others will say she honored a higher one. That debate will play out in courtrooms and headlines. But the deeper question is for us: What kind of faith do we practice? One that avoids conflict, or one that bears crosses?
Respecting the law does not mean worshipping it. Romans 13 speaks of order, yes, but not of blind obedience. The prophetic tradition of Scripture always has called God’s people to challenge unjust structures. If not, we still would have slavery, segregation and silence in the face of suffering. We wouldn’t have Harriet Tubman, Dietrich Bonhoeffer or Martin Luther King Jr. We wouldn’t have the church as a witness to justice at all.
“Law without love is tyranny, and love without risk is hollow.”
As believers, we are not called to convenience. We are called to love the foreigner as ourselves (Leviticus 19:34), to welcome the stranger (Matthew 25), and to remember that Jesus himself was a refugee in Egypt. These are not symbolic gestures. They are commands that demand action, even when it’s uncomfortable, even when it’s illegal.
Judge Dugan may face conviction. She may lose her career. But if she erred, she erred on the side of mercy. And that, in the kingdom of God, is not a sin, it’s a seed.
We live in a moment that demands moral clarity. Not partisan noise. Not bureaucratic compliance. But courageous faith. The kind of faith that breaks with convention. The kind that remembers that law without love is tyranny, and love without risk is hollow.
This case isn’t just about immigration. It’s about whether Christians are still willing to take up the Cross, or whether we’ve grown too comfortable carrying badges of respectability instead.
History will render its verdict on Judge Dugan. But people of faith should consider rendering theirs too, and asking: If it were me, would I have done the same?
Rosaly Guzman is a teacher, speaker and life coach. She holds a master’s degree in theology and is working on a doctoral degree in ministry. She serves at Crosslife Church in Oviedo, Fla,, in the women’s ministry.
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