Judge Strikes Trump’s Rambling Lawsuit Before NY Times Even Had To Respond

Defamation

from the when-you-can't-even-meet-the-pro-se-bar dept

In what may be a first in American legal history, a sitting president just had his lawsuit struck down by a federal judge before the defendants even had a chance to respond.

Judge Steven Merryday didn’t wait for a motion to dismiss. He didn’t wait for the defendants to file an answer. Four days after Donald Trump’s lawyers filed their 85-page tantrum masquerading as a defamation complaint against the New York Times and Penguin Random House, Merryday struck it sua sponte—essentially telling the President of the United States that his legal filing was so fundamentally defective it wasn’t worth the court’s time.

Sua sponte dismissals are extraordinarily rare. Judges typically bend over backwards to let even the most questionable complaints proceed to motion practice. The fact that a federal judge took the unusual step of striking a complaint without any prompting from defendants signals just how egregiously improper Trump’s filing was.

Last week, we told you about the ridiculously dopey lawsuit that Donald Trump had filed against Penguin Random House, the NY Times, and some reporters over… something. It wasn’t quite clear. But the lawsuit spent many, many pages fluffing Donald Trump’s ego and suggesting that the mere endorsement in the NY Times of Kamala Harris was election interference and suggested that it would break all the laws to criticize Dear Leader Donald J. Trump.

The complaint also betrayed a fundamental misunderstanding of defamation law’s “actual malice” standard and bore hallmarks that led many observers to suspect it was AI-generated—a theory that gains credibility when you read Judge Merryday’s scathing analysis of its contents.

The venue choice was transparently strategic. Trump forum-shopped his way to the Tampa division of the Middle District of Florida despite having no meaningful connection there—Mar-a-Lago is in the Southern District, and the defendants are based in New York. The complaint’s assertion that venue was proper because defendants “sell newspapers and books” in the district was laughably weak.

The real reason was likely that four of the five regular judges in that division were Trump appointees. But Trump’s luck ran out when the case landed on the docket of Judge Steven Merryday (who is on senior status), a no-nonsense Bush Sr. appointee who clearly wasn’t impressed by the presidential plaintiff.

As every member of the bar of every federal court knows (or is presumed to know), Rule 8(a), Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, requires that a complaint include “a short and plain statement of the claim showing that the pleader is entitled to relief.” Rule 8(e)(1) helpfully adds that “[e]ach averment of a pleading shall be simple, concise, and direct.” Some pleadings are necessarily longer than others. The difference likely depends on the number of parties and claims, the complexity of the governing facts, and the duration and scope of pertinent events. But both a shorter pleading and a longer pleading must comprise “simple, concise, and direct” allegations that offer a “short and plain statement of the claim.” Rule 8 governs every pleading in a federal court, regardless of the amount in controversy, the identity of the parties, the skill or reputation of the counsel, the urgency or importance (real or imagined) of the dispute, or any public interest at issue in the dispute.

In this action, a prominent American citizen (perhaps the most prominent American citizen) alleges defamation by a prominent American newspaper publisher (perhaps the most prominent American newspaper publisher) and by several other corporate and natural persons. Alleging only two simple counts of defamation, the complaint consumes eighty-five pages. Count I appears on page eighty, and Count II appears on page eighty-three. Pages one through seventy-nine, plus part of page eighty, present allegations common to both counts and to all defendants. Each count alleges a claim against each defendant and, apparently, each claim seeks the same remedy against each defendant.

But the judge doesn’t mince words about how “improper” the complaint is beyond just the length:

Even under the most generous and lenient application of Rule 8, the complaint is decidedly improper and impermissible. The pleader initially alleges an electoral victory by President Trump “in historic fashion” — by “trouncing” the opponent — and alludes to “persistent election interference from the legacy media, led most notoriously by the New York Times.” The pleader alludes to “the halcyon days” of the newspaper but complains that the newspaper has become a “full-throated mouthpiece of the Democrat party,” which allegedly resulted in the “deranged endorsement” of President Trump’s principal opponent in the most recent presidential election. The reader of the complaint must labor through allegations, such as “a new journalistic low for the hopelessly compromised and tarnished ‘Gray Lady.’” The reader must endure an allegation of “the desperate need to defame with a partisan spear rather than report with an authentic looking glass” and an allegation that “the false narrative about ‘The Apprentice’ was just the tip of Defendants’ melting iceberg of falsehoods.” Similarly, in one of many, often repetitive, and laudatory (toward President Trump) but superfluous allegations, the pleader states, “‘The Apprentice’ represented the cultural magnitude of President Trump’s singular brilliance, which captured the [Z]eitgeist of our time.”

And also points out how “tedious” the complaint is and points out that a civil complaint is no place for ranting and raving about how mean people are to you, with the main target being the PR value over having a legitimate complaint:

As every lawyer knows (or is presumed to know), a complaint is not a public forum for vituperation and invective — not a protected platform to rage against an adversary. A complaint is not a megaphone for public relations or a podium for a passionate oration at a political rally or the functional equivalent of the Hyde Park Speakers’ Corner.

That’s basically: “your complaint is the legal equivalent of the guy screaming out conspiracy theories on the street corner.”

The judge, as he should, gives Trump 28 days to amend the complaint, which is likely to happen. Whether or not his lawyers can actually follow the local rules and properly state a claim will remain only conjecture until that time.

Meanwhile, Trump appeared wholly unaware that the case was tossed on Friday while meeting with the press. He started bragging about the case and when ABC News reporter Jonathan Karl pointed out that the case had been tossed, Trump responded “I’m winning, I’m winning the cases.” He’s not.

The disconnect between Trump’s perception and legal reality perfectly encapsulates his approach to litigation: file theatrical lawsuits designed more for headlines than legal success, then either attack judges or (as here) just deny reality when courts treat them as actual legal documents that must follow rules. It’s a pattern we’ve seen repeatedly—lawsuits that work better as press releases than as instruments of justice.

Having a President who operates in an alternate reality where judicial smackdowns count as victories is, to put it mildly, concerning. But these days, it’s just a Friday.

Filed Under: defamation, donald trump, florida, frivolous lawsuit, steven merryday, sua sponte
Companies: ny times, penguin random house