In reacting to the Supreme Court's denial of certiorari for Uighur detainees at Guantanamo, lawyer Sabin Willett writes the single most eloquent lament on indefinite detention you will ever read. Ever. This is how people used to write and argue before the internet ruined everything.
It's unfair to pick out a single quote, since the whole essay is tightly wound by the tensile strength of righteousness, but this paragraph haunted me:
Four of our Uighur clients might have found freedom here in 2009 (and I rather think that if they had, once the shouting died down, the whole business of shuttering the prison would have become infinitely easier), but hysteria was whipped to a froth in the Old Dominion, and the President flinched. When they went to Bermuda, a zealot emailed to say that they and I would have blood on our hands. Two years later, their hands are only callused (they work construction). They buckle their helmets and ride their scooters on the South Road to Paget Parish. They send me texts. One lives with his wife and expects a child; the others dream of wives and children. Bermuda seems to have survived. Why aren’t we shamed by this?
Read the whole thing. Staple it to a door or two.