November 8, 2025

In moments of darkness, an unlikely hero must step forward — or in this case, a hero was thrown forward. More specifically, a hero was thrown at a U.S. Customs and Border Protection officer. 

I like to focus my Saturday pieces on important news that may have gotten buried beneath the ever-crazy headlines. From redistricting to political prosecutions to election nights, there’s a lot going on. So, when news of Sean Dunn’s trial — or as you may know him, Sandwich Guy — hit my Bluesky feed, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night unless I shared it with all of you. 

Let’s start at the beginning: It was a warm summer night in August. On Donald Trump’s orders, National Guard troops had descended upon Washington, D.C. Spirits were low, tariffs were high. But not high enough to prevent Sandwich Guy from buying a hoagie from Subway. 

The National Guard troops patrolling the streets were an ominous warning for our country, and an unsettling presence in the District. Trump’s claim that the agents were cracking down on crime — in a city where crime was at a low point — was a half-baked excuse to execute his authoritarian agenda.

So, as agents patrolled 14th and U, Dunn took matters into his own hands. He flung the offending sub at Gregory Lairmore, a CBP agent, apparently shouting, “You fucking fascists! Why are you here? I don't want you in my city,” and took off running. 

For Dunn, his mission was simple: “I was trying to draw them away from where they were. I succeeded.” 

However, for the judge trying his case, this is the meat of the matter. Was Sandwich Guy’s act of resistance a violent crime, or was it a harmless outburst? Pressing questions in a pressing case. 

And, for all of the judge’s talk that this would be “the simplest case in the history of the world,” it turns out it actually was a pressing case that extended into a four-day trial. A jury was selected. Reenactments of the Sandwich Assault were performed. A witness was called to stand. Lairmore was asked to identify the sandwich (he couldn’t).

Because this was never just about a sandwich — this was about the future of America. This was about acts of resistance, freedom of expression, and our right to fling processed meats in the face of authority. Sandwich Guy wasn’t just Sandwich Guy — he was a symbol of the opposition movement. And both sides of this trial knew that. 

The Trump administration tried to make an example of Dunn. They had him arrested and circulated the video. They tried to indict him on felony charges, but failed. At each stage, Dunn’s legend grew.

Eventually, Dunn was charged with misdemeanor assault, and over the course of four days, the government tried to prove the extent of the violent nature of this fierce footlong. The prosecutor insisted that we don’t have the right “to strike another person, even with a sandwich.”

And apparently, this was no ordinary sandwich. “I could feel it through my ballistic vest,” Lairmore, Sandwich Target, testified. One onion string hung lifelessly from his police radio. Mustard stained his shirt. One would assume he’ll have to get it dry cleaned. In this economy? A tragedy on its own.

Now, if Lairmore felt the Sandwich through his vest, this raises a lot of questions: Just how fast is Sandwich Guy’s fastball? Should we get him on the Nationals? Should these explosive, titanium footlongs be banned by TSA? 

Dunn’s defense didn’t let the government go down an erroneous path. There seemed to be a conspiracy afoot (long). Dunn’s attorney presented an Instagram video from the infamous night. Beneath the caption “this sandwich is going down in history,” the offending sub — GASP — is still nicely in its paper wrapping, contents concealed. If the sandwich still fits you must acquit!! 

The defense also points out that Lairmore and his CBP colleagues seem to find humor in this situation. Lairmore’s coworkers bought him a sandwich plushie (which lives on his shelf) and he proudly dons a “felony footlong” sticker on his lunchbox. Would someone so traumatized from this situation be surrounded by constant reminders of it? 

After four days of trial, the jury — on the verge of laughter themselves — is sent away to deliberate. They must determine whether Sandwich Guy acted “forcibly.” Seven hours later, we finally had our verdict: not guilty. 

After many victories on Tuesday, it was another win for the opposition movement. Because, remember: this was never just about a sandwich. Republicans wanted to make an example of Sandwich Guy — to prove that Washington, D.C., was a city riddled with crime in need of law and order. But Sandwich Guy isn’t a criminal — he is a man who was standing up for the people against tyranny — sandwiches be damned. 

Outside the courthouse, he told the press: “That night I believed that I was protecting the rights of immigrants…And let us not forget that the great seal of the United States says ‘E pluribus unum.’ That means ‘from many, one.’ Every life matters no matter where you came from. No matter how you got here, no matter how you identify, you have the right to live a life that is free.”

The Trump administration clearly didn’t agree with this notion. Responding to the verdict, D.C. U.S. Attorney Jeanine Pirro said, “Even children know when they are angry, they are not allowed to throw objects at one another.” 

Well, Jeanine, children also know that when they’re angry, they’re not allowed to send National Guard troops to cities and rig elections. We’re living through a dark moment, and you need to find light in the darkness. Sometimes, you find that light in an unlikely hero — an onion, mustard and salami hero. 

Now, here's a little joy from our pawtners in the opposition! Have a furry friend of your own? Reply to this email and send us a pic — we’d love to feature them.