Some young radicals think life is one endless undergraduate seminar, where federal laws and the laws of physics are just oppressive constructs waiting to be deconstructed by a sufficiently outraged sophomore.

That type was on full display last week at Purdue, where student journalists, having gleefully published the names of anti-Israel activists now facing deportation under President Trump’s latest executive order, not only decided that deleting the evidence was the next logical step in the “resistance” but also made sure to virtue signal their own audacity along the way.

A valiant attempt, kids. But unfortunately for you, the FBI has a slightly longer memory than a caffeine-fueled term paper all-nighter.

Let’s start with a quick legal primer. There is no journalistic privilege that allows you to erase already-public information when the federal government is interested. None. This is not a classified Pentagon leak or a Watergate deep-throat whisper session. What we have here are a bunch of overconfident campus radicals publishing names in broad daylight, then panicking when the feds started paying attention.

And here’s where it gets really fun: Purdue students rally behind their school spirit chant, “Boiler Up!”

Given the circumstances, they might want to tweak that a little.

“LAWYER UP!”

Because boys and girls, when you start scrambling to delete evidence that might be relevant to ongoing federal investigations, you are dancing dangerously close to a little thing called obstruction of justice. And no, your favorite activist professor can’t save you from this one.

Now, let’s take a moment to reflect on how we got here.

Once upon a time, student newspapers tackled thorny issues—like the lack of choices at the campus cafeteria—before devolving into ideological echo chambers. 

Today? They function as propaganda arms for campus Marxists, working overtime to justify the latest descent into political cosplay. Free speech? That’s for radical leftists who want to burn the American flag. Name-and-shame campaigns? It’s totally fine when the target is a College Republican who once said two genders exist.

But the moment consequences become real—when they realize, oops, breaking federal law isn’t just a campus protest stunt—their commitment to journalism vanishes faster than a Hamas flag when CNN cameras roll up.

And here’s the real kicker: There’s no friendly DOJ to bail them out this time.

Under the previous administration, they might have expected some sympathetic bureaucrat to slow-walk enforcement or, better yet, turn the other cheek. 

But that was then. This is now.

The executive order is on the books, and the DOJ has every incentive to enforce it. No matter how many times these students cry “press freedom,” federal investigators are going to be asking a much simpler question:

Did you try to cover your tracks after publishing these names?

If the answer is yes, congratulations—you’re about to get a firsthand lesson in criminal defense law that your journalism professor conveniently forgot to mention.

So let this be a lesson, kids. In the real world, when federal agencies start sniffing around, deleting public information isn’t called “protecting your sources.” It’s called obstruction of justice. And it’s generally a bad idea.

I don’t pretend to know precisely how the DOJ will handle this, but if I were one of these budding Boilermaker Bernsteins, I’d start making some calls specifically to a defense attorney.

Because no matter how many performative op-eds you write, there’s no “safe space” from a federal subpoena.

So, once more, for the people in the back:

Boiler Up? No, kids—LAWYER UP.

And for the rest of you?

Don’t try this at home or in your student newsroom, kids.

Charlton Allen is an attorney, former chief executive officer, and chief judicial officer of the North Carolina Industrial Commission. He is the founder of the Madison Center for Law & Liberty, Inc., editor of The American Salient, and the host of the Modern Federalist podcast. X: @CharltonAllenNC

Image from Grok.