On January 20, 2025, as Donald Trump retook the presidency, advocates across the criminal justice reform field were all asking the same question: in his second term, would Donald Trump be a friend or foe to reform?

Despite President Trump’s “tough-on-crime” and “tough-on-the-border” campaign and the numerous actions he took to undermine criminal justice progress during his first term, it was a reasonable question. Trump’s first term saw the passage of several important federal criminal justice reforms—most notably the First Step Act, as well as the reinstatement of Pell Grants for incarcerated students, the Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security (CARES) Act, support for second-chance hiring, and an executive order on police reform. Throughout his first term, criminal justice reform also enjoyed strong bipartisan support at the state and local levels, with landmark reforms to bail, sentencing, conviction records, fines and fees, and more across the country.

Trump also retook office as the first incoming president with a felony record. He had an axe to grind against a legal system that he believes was weaponized against him. On the campaign trail, he openly (some would say cynically) tried to appeal to Black voters by saying that he understood “corrupt systems that try to target and subjugate others to deny them their freedom and to deny them their rights.” Whether this sentiment would translate to more support for reform remained an open question.

After the first 100 days of this administration's presidency, all signs indicate that the criminal justice field should not hold out hope for sweeping reform. And even if reform does emerge, we must ask ourselves: can we justify supporting anything the Trump administration does, given the serious damage it continues to inflict upon basic due process, the rule of law, and the very existence of the criminal justice reform field?

Why is there hope for more criminal justice reform under Trump?

While the American public is divided along partisan lines on virtually every major policy issue—from healthcare and taxes to the economy and abortion—criminal justice reform is among the few areas of enduring consensus. A 2024 poll showed that 81 percent of voters, including 75 percent of Republicans, support criminal justice reform, and a substantial portion of voters from both parties say they would be more likely to vote for a candidate who supports it. It is an issue that touches most people: nearly one in two Americans have had an immediate family member incarcerated. And Gallup polling shows that trust in the criminal justice system is similarly low among Democrats and Republicans.

And more than any other recent president, Democrat or Republican, Donald Trump passed significant criminal justice legislation in his first term. While sometimes disparaged as too incremental and bogged down by poor implementation, the First Step Act is nevertheless broadly considered one of the most important federal criminal justice reforms in recent history. Less high-profile—but still hugely meaningful—was the reinstatement of Pell Grants for incarcerated students, which Trump signed as a lame duck in 2020. He also signed the CARES Act, which allowed more than 13,000 people to leave federal prison for home confinement during the pandemic. And he issued several justice-related acts of clemency in his first term, including to justice reform advocate Alice Marie Johnson. Trump never passed the Second Step Act, which he announced in 2019 to help formerly incarcerated people gain employment—a promise he reiterated to Black voters during his first reelection campaign—but he took several steps to support second-chance hiring, including signing the Fair Chance Act. While Trump’s response to the George Floyd protests turned noxious, he did issue a largely forgotten executive order that, among other things, sought to establish a database of police misconduct (which he recently mothballed) and encourage co-responder programs addressing mental health, substance use, and homelessness. Even as Trump overtly undertook many of these actions just to win over Black voters, the end result was nevertheless progress.

None of this is to say that Trump’s first term was, on balance, a win for criminal justice. Among many destructive actions, Trump’s first administration ramped up prosecution, restarted federal executions, undermined police accountability, instituted punitive cannabis policies, reinstated Department of Justice (DOJ) contracts with private prisons, and closed halfway houses. In contrast, the Biden White House passed no sweeping reform legislation but led progress through many other actions, including more acts of clemency than any other president (including to 2,500 people convicted of nonviolent drug offenses and the nearly 1,500 people still on home confinement under the CARES Act), massive investments in community violence prevention and other justice-related programs now under threat from the Trump administration, the Federal Prison Oversight Act, and an executive order on accountable policing.

Advocates know that in a challenging political climate, progress must come where it can. Many highly respected organizations and voices from across the political spectrum wrote about the potential for more criminal justice reform under a second Trump administration, especially as momentum on the issue lagged under the Biden presidency. The Brennan Center, Brookings Institute, Council on Criminal Justice, R Street, Vera, and others released ambitious criminal justice agendas to create guideposts and set expectations for the reforms the field believed could be possible.

Should hope remain? One hundred days in, Trump’s “tough-on-crime” and anti-reform actions suggest not.

It seems clear that meaningful criminal justice reform is not coming under a second Trump presidency. Trump’s first 100 days have seen not just inaction on criminal justice reform, but also many actions that run explicitly counter to reform and have undermined public safety as well. And in the past few weeks, he has taken a sledgehammer to the funding that has made reform possible—especially in purple and red parts of the country where state-level criminal justice reform legislation is less likely to happen.

Attorney General Pam Bondi ushered in a new “tough-on-crime” era for the DOJ.

While little high-profile criminal justice reform legislation passed under President Biden, much progress came from his DOJ’s overall approach to prosecution and sentencing. Under Attorney General Merrick Garland, the DOJ evolved to be less “tough on crime” and more considerate of the totality of the circumstances of defendants in the federal criminal system. For example, the “Garland Memo” directed prosecutors to use their discretion, charge below the minimum where they deemed appropriate, and increase use of alternatives to detention and incarceration.

The appointment of “tough-on-crime” prosecutor Pam Bondi as attorney general made clear that Trump’s DOJ would take a different direction, despite her suggesting otherwise during her confirmation hearing. AG Bondi wasted no time, issuing 14 memos on her first day rescinding Biden-era policies like the Garland Memo and ratcheting up “tough-on-crime” policies, including directing prosecutors to pursue the highest charge justifiable by the evidence. Bondi also advanced Trump’s executive order on “Restoring the Death Penalty,” lifting the moratorium on federal executions and assisting states in pursuing capital cases against the 37 death row defendants whose sentences Biden commuted. Bondi has also called for using the death penalty in cases “involving extremely large quantities of drugs” and in high-profile cases like that of Luigi Mangione. Trump eviscerated any hope that the department would maintain its traditional independence with a victory-lap speech at the DOJ clearly designed to showcase his control over its direction.

Under Trump and Bondi, the DOJ has abandoned its role as an oversight body, instead weaponizing itself in service of Trump’s agenda. Through Trump’s executive order on policing and Bondi’s DEI memo, the administration has sought to end the use of consent decrees, which under the Obama administration emerged as the federal government's key mechanism for police accountability. Bondi has also effectively hollowed out the once-formidable DOJ Civil Rights Division, prompting a “mass exodus” by appointing Trump lawyer Harmeet Dhillon as assistant attorney general to run the division and directing it to focus on priorities like antisemitism, DEI, anti-Christian bias, and trans women in sports. The DOJ’s priorities clearly reflect the administration’s own, shifting away from priorities like white-collar crime, domestic threats, and hate crime prevention in favor of things like prosecuting Tesla vandalism.

The administration has undermined safety with funding cuts and policy changes.

Despite its insistence that crime is a priority, the administration is clearly only interested in pursuing safety on its own terms—through policing and prisons—and has eviscerated programs across the government proven to deliver community safety. The cuts extend far beyond the DOJ cuts discussed below. One such area is mental health and drug treatment, both proven to reduce crime. The Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) is facing $1 billion in funding cuts and slashed staff. SAMHSA also supports a wide array of criminal justice priorities, including mental health counselors, hotline call operators, crisis response teams, and diversion programs. Another such area is housing: the administration cut millions in Department of Housing and Urban Development grants for affordable housing, despite the evidence that housing interventions promote safety in general and that affordable housing is specifically proven to reduce crime. Trump also effectively disbanded the U.S. Interagency Council on Homelessness as part of a larger plan to shift away from the proven housing-first strategy in favor of potentially forcing people into “tent cities” and mandating treatment on threat of arrest. Other agency cuts undermining safety target the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, which funds research on violence prevention and drugs. There is cause for real concern that should crime cease declining due to these cuts, the administration might use it as fodder for more investments in mass incarceration.

The Trump administration has only bolstered such concerns with its approach to policing and police accountability. Trump’s April 28 executive order, titled “Strengthening and Unleashing America’s Law Enforcement to Pursue Criminals and Protect Innocent Citizens,” is an attempt to remove guardrails on police when they abuse their power or break the law—which will surely empower them to do so in ways that endanger the public. It includes federalizing local law enforcement, strengthening police immunity, targeting local officials who seek police accountability, deploying Department of Homeland Security (DHS) units locally, and further undermining consent decrees. In addition, despite proposing a police misconduct database in his own 2020 executive order, Trump immediately took down the one the Biden administration created. The administration also terminated DOJ grants aimed at improving policing, including for training and officer wellness.

The federal government and a weaponized DOJ are targeting “blue” cities.

Despite historic declines in urban crime, Trump continues to deride the country’s big cities as violent “cesspools.” As during his first administration, he is turning the government against them if they refuse to play ball with his “tough-on-crime” policies. Chief among his enemies are so-called “sanctuary” cities and states, which he has targeted with various lawsuits, attempts to withhold federal funding, and threats of prosecution. The administration has also sought to directly undermine big-city crime response. Department of Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy threatened federal funding to New York City and Washington, DC, if they did not crack down on transit crime and fare evasion. Trump also issued an executive order establishing a crime task force in Washington, DC, seeking to directly bolster law enforcement presence and immigration enforcement in the nation’s capital—part of a larger effort to undermine “home rule” in DC.

In some big cities, mayors have chosen to relent or appease Trump. In New York City, the federal government dropped its corruption case against Mayor Eric Adams, seemingly in return for the city’s participation in federal immigration enforcement, including allowing Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) to operate on Rikers Island (Adams denies any quid pro quo). In DC, Mayor Muriel Bowser changed her rhetoric on immigration, no longer identifying DC as a sanctuary city, and caved to White House pressure on painting over Black Lives Matter Plaza. However, other Democratic state and local leaders have stood up to Trump on safety and justice, such as Boston’s Michelle Wu, Chicago’s Brandon Johnson, and Illinois’s J.B. Pritzker.

Gun violence is no longer a priority for the federal government.

Amid substantial declines in gun violence, the administration has abandoned many of the programs and measures responsible. Almost immediately, Trump shuttered the White House Office of Gun Violence Prevention, launched in 2023 to address gun violence as a public health crisis. On February 7, he issued an executive order directing agency heads to review all policies related to the Second Amendment, which could imperil such progress as the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives’ (ATF) recently upheld ghost gun rule. ATF resources on gun violence have been diverted to immigration enforcement, and the administration has curtailed efforts to prevent illegal gun sales.

For its part, the DOJ has begun selectively restoring gun rights to people previously prohibited under their felony convictions, including Trump ally Mel Gibson, and it is responsible for a task force intended to “advance, protect, and promote compliance with the Second Amendment.” The DOJ’s cuts to violence prevention discussed below will also be disastrous for gun violence. Further, the administration has canceled $1 billion in grants for community and school mental health (awarded under the Bipartisan Safer Communities Act) aimed at combating school shootings in the wake of the Uvalde shooting. President Trump himself has appeared relatively unfazed by shootings under his tenure. While Republicans typically balk at even the most modest gun control efforts, Trump has taken that stance even further—his actions risk promoting gun violence across the country.

The federal government is enlisting local law enforcement and expanding local detention capacity in service of Trump’s mass deportation agenda.

Despite copious evidence to the contrary, the Trump administration alleges that immigrants are the greatest threat to public safety and it is employing the nation’s law enforcement and detention apparatuses to demonstrate its response. The number of people in ICE detention has increased from roughly 37,800 to 49,200 since Trump took office. The administration is seeking to more than double the taxpayer dollars appropriated to the DHS—a proposed $107.4 billion—to fund its mass detention and deportation initiative, much of which is funneled to private prison operators who backed Trump and are ready to cash in. ICE is reopening shuttered detention facilities like Newark’s Delaney Hall and detaining immigrants in federal prisons, while also employing more extreme measures like sending people to Guantánamo Bay and a notorious El Salvador mega-prison.

As it aims for one million deportations annually, the administration has already diverted federal law enforcement resources to support the effort, including the ATF, FBI, U.S. Marshals, and Drug Enforcement Administration. It is also massively mustering local law enforcement, more than tripling the number of jurisdictions with 287(g) agreements that allow state and local police to participate in immigration enforcement. Entanglement between local law enforcement and ICE does not make communities safer; it only destabilizes communities and discourages crime reporting. The federal government also does not impose oversight on local officers who make initial arrests, such as in the case of Kilmar Abrego Garcia, which can open the door to racial profiling and other serious issues.

The DOJ eviscerated funding for critical criminal justice programs like community violence intervention, youth justice, alternatives to incarceration, reentry, and victim services.

Through the first two months of Trump’s second presidency, it looked like the criminal justice field might be somewhat spared. But in mid-April, the DOJ terminated the entirety of Vera’s federal funding, and shortly thereafter, the Department of Government Efficiency declared its intentions to install staff within Vera (they abandoned their request upon learning of Vera’s federal funding termination). The hammer soon fell on the rest of the field: on April 22, the administration cut 365 criminal justice grants totaling more than $800 million. Despite touching issues the administration has touted like reentry, substance use, and hate crimes, the DOJ claims these grants did “not align” with the Trump administration’s priorities. In addition, funding remains frozen for the DOJ Office of Violence Against Women, wreaking havoc on support for survivors of domestic violence.

For the criminal justice field, the scope and scale of the DOJ cuts is devastating. They will disrupt essential work to prevent and intervene in gun violence, offer treatment instead of arrest to people in crisis, support survivors, and reduce reliance on jails and prisons. The funding supports not only such direct services, but also technical assistance that helps localities develop new skills and programs, as well as research programs that measure safety and find new ways to reduce crime. The cuts also affect funding for the Justice Reinvestment Initiative—a bipartisan public–private partnership through which 44 states have used data-driven strategies to reduce incarceration, break the cycle of crime, expand reentry opportunities, and save billions in correctional costs. In addition, the cuts have already begun leading to layoffs and organizations shuttering, setbacks that could take years—if not longer—to undo.

Do Trump’s first 100 days offer any glimmer of progress?

In the face of all this, hope for criminal justice reform seems dim. Still, Trump is nothing if not unpredictable, and so it is incumbent upon advocates to remain on the lookout for opportunities. If there is hope, it is most likely in reading the tea leaves around pardons and rumors of a Second Step Act. However, the greatest cause for optimism lies in renewed energy for bipartisan reform at the state and local levels.

The appointment of a formerly incarcerated justice reform advocate offers hope for pardons.

During Trump’s first term, he granted among the fewest acts of clemency of any modern president. The lion’s share of his pardons went to allies and wealthy, connected people like Roger Stone and Steve Bannon. But Trump also used the clemency power to sparingly grant relief to people harmed by mass incarceration, most notably justice advocate Alice Marie Johnson, who spent 21 years in federal prison for a first-time, nonviolent drug offense. In the first 100 days of his second term, Trump’s clemency efforts have furthered his own aims rather than addressing mass incarceration, including pardoning January 6 rioters, anti-abortion protesters, and two Washington, DC police officers involved in the murder of Karon Hylton-Brown. Of immense concern, the DOJ fired pardon attorney Liz Oyer after she refused to grant a request to restore Mel Gibson’s gun rights. Trump also tried to void President Biden’s historic justice-related pardons, deeming them illegitimate because the former president used an autopen.

However, Trump has offered one bright spot on pardons: appointing Alice Marie Johnson as “pardon czar.” The clemency process has long been dysfunctional. Even with the DOJ’s Office of the Pardon Attorney, bureaucratic redundancy and conflicts of interest further stall relief. With more than 7,500 clemency applications pending, Johnson could have the power to break through these barriers. Creating a pardon czar—and appointing a formerly incarcerated person and activist—is a fresh, bold idea. Trump is canny to see this as an appeal to voters: clemency is broadly popular and carries bipartisan support. It remains to be seen how much impact Johnson will have, but the criminal justice field should remain supportive of Johnson’s efforts and continue to advocate for reform to the clemency process.

There may still be hope for the long-promised Second Step Act.

For criminal justice advocates, the First Step Act rightfully looms large—and offers the tantalizing possibility of a follow-on Second Step Act. After passing the First Step Act in 2018, Trump announced plans for a Second Chance Act in April 2019 as part of Second Chance Month. While First Step focused particularly on safely lowering the federal prison population, Second Step would ostensibly focus on reentry, helping people safely and successfully transition home after incarceration.

While rumors have abounded, Second Chance Month has come and gone with no mention of reentry, criminal justice reform, or a Second Step Act. Thus far, Trump does not appear interested in appealing to wider constituencies like the Black voters he was courting with First Step. And in fact, Trump’s cuts to DOJ grants will decimate reentry services across the country. In addition, he has not signaled any plans to fix implementation and interpretation issues that have hindered the First Step Act. Instead, his administration has actively destabilized the Bureau of Prisons with a controversial new director, the elimination of resources to prevent sexual abuse, dangerous executive orders on transgender women and private prisons, use of federal prisons for immigrant detention, and firings and pay cuts despite existing staff shortages. Even as the odds seem slim, the criminal justice field should still view a Second Step Act as a potential boon.

Bipartisan criminal justice reform is still alive at the local level.

After several years of steady backlash and rollbacks, momentum for positive criminal justice legislation regained steam during the 2025 legislative session. Here’s an incomplete roundup of what states have accomplished so far:

After ceding to fearmongering and rolling back the Juvenile Justice Reform Act in 2023, Maryland legislators took major strides forward this year. Significant wins included a Second Look Act, medical parole reform, and legislation establishing restorative approaches in public schools. Other criminal justice priorities gained momentum but didn’t make it across the finish line, including a bill to limit non-safety-related traffic stops and to prevent housing discrimination against people with conviction histories.

Colorado, New Mexico, and Vermont, blue states that have also faced “tough-on-crime” headwinds, passed important reforms as well. Colorado passed a bill to protect police whistleblowers, a significant measure for police accountability. New Mexico eliminated all parole supervision fees, which keep people from successful reentry after prison. Vermont ended prosecution of children under 12, recognizing that children must be treated as children and helping to dismantle the “school-to-prison” pipeline.

Importantly, momentum for justice reform is also picking up in purple and even red states. In Virginia, despite a hotly contested governor's race and the entire legislature being up for election (a climate that makes progress on wedge issues difficult), the legislature took action. It passed a probation reform bill that enables people on supervision to reduce their term through achievements like securing employment, educational progress, healthcare, or housing (the governor signed the bill, but it still must pass again next year to be enacted). It also passed a bill to create fair payment plans for people with court debt, easing the burden of debts that keep people locked in a cycle of incarceration and poverty.

Even in incontrovertibly red states, like Alabama, Georgia, and Ohio, we are seeing progress and momentum on reform. Alabama is moving a bill that would make it easier for formerly incarcerated people to get occupational licenses that enable them to work in fields like plumbing, carpentry, or electrical work. In Georgia, a state that has in recent years passed punitive laws expanding preventive detention and cracking down on progressive prosecutors, the legislature passed a groundbreaking bill that would contemplate early release from prison for survivors of abuse and violence whose offense was a result of that abuse. And Ohio eliminated some debt-related driver’s license suspensions following a joint investigation by the Marshall Project and the local ABC News affiliate, ensuring that people with debt related to things like court fees and missing child support payments can still earn a livelihood.

What do all these bills have in common? Except for one Maryland bill, they all passed with some level of bipartisan support. This incomplete list should inspire anyone invested in bipartisan criminal justice reform. The prospects for federal reform may be diminished during Trump’s second term, and the threat for many criminal justice organizations may be existential. But for advocacy organizations and funders, state and local reform abounds with opportunities to keep progress moving forward.

Should the criminal justice field appease Trump or resist?

Is all hope dead for federal justice reform during this administration? Even as the odds seem slim, they may not be zero. As such, many advocates in our field argue that we must seize every opportunity to advance reform. But in today’s federal landscape, even the most meaningful reforms demand a new calculus: does pursuing them risk legitimizing an administration that is actively dismantling the rule of law and weaponizing the criminal justice system? Every organization must navigate this terrain by asking hard questions about the risks and benefits.

Ultimately, while any true progress on criminal justice reform could still be worth pursuing, it must not come at the cost of our silence and complicity in the face of other harms.