A federal judge’s order Saturday has thrown fresh hurdles in front of the Justice Department’s push to hold James Comey accountable, locking away digital evidence tied to the former FBI director’s longtime confidant. U.S. District Judge Colleen Kollar-Kotelly, in a decision filed December 6, granted a temporary restraining order to Daniel Richman, a Columbia University law professor and ex-special FBI employee who served as Comey’s attorney and sounding board. The ruling bars prosecutors from touching Richman’s seized computer image, iCloud data, and email accounts—materials central to the dismissed indictment against Comey for allegedly lying to Congress and obstructing its work.
This isn’t the first courtroom stumble in the saga. Comey’s September charges stemmed from his 2020 testimony, where he denied that FBI personnel under his watch had leaked sensitive details about the 2016 election probes to reporters. Those leaks, prosecutors argued, fueled stories painting then-candidate Donald Trump as compromised by foreign ties. But the case unraveled last month when a Virginia judge tossed it out, ruling that lead prosecutor Lindsey Halligan—a Trump appointee—lacked proper authority under federal law.
In 2017, shortly after Trump fired Comey, investigators imaged Richman’s personal computer as part of a classified leak probe. Richman cooperated then, but now claims the government hung onto the full data dump without fresh warrants, rifling through it for the Comey case without cause.
“The Court concludes that Petitioner Richman is likely to succeed on the merits of his claim that the Government has violated his Fourth Amendment right against unreasonable searches and seizures by retaining a complete copy of all files on his personal computer (an ‘image’ of the computer) and searching that image without a warrant,” Kollar-Kotelly wrote in her four-page order.
The judge’s directive is narrow but pointed: By noon Monday, the DOJ must “identify, segregate, and secure” all Richman-related files in its possession, with no access allowed absent court permission. The freeze lasts through December 12, or until full arguments wrap up—plenty of time for defense teams to argue the evidence is fruit of a poisonous tree, potentially dooming any reloaded charges.
For those tracking the long trail of 2016 election interference, Richman’s name rings bells from the shadows. Comey tapped him to anonymously feed details from his book manuscript to The New York Times in 2017, sparking headlines about classified memos. That episode, probed by then-Inspector General Michael Horowitz, cleared Comey of policy breaches but left questions about selective enforcement lingering.
Fast-forward to today, and Richman’s devices hold threads to those very leaks, plus his own chats with media during the Clinton-Trump showdown. There is also speculation that this data trove includes echoes of the Alfa Bank story—the dubious Trump-Russia server link peddled by Clinton campaign operatives like Michael Sussmann, whose 2022 acquittal on FBI lying charges still stings as a missed chance for clarity on the hoax’s architects.
The pattern feels all too familiar. Recall the Durham investigation’s frustrations: Sussmann walked free despite evidence of campaign-driven tips to the FBI, while a key FBI lawyer copped to altering emails in the Russia probe but drew mere probation. Now, with Trump back in the White House and Attorney General Pam Bondi eyeing revivals, another layer of protection snaps into place for the old guard. Kollar-Kotelly, a 2003 appointee under George W. Bush, isn’t new to high-stakes calls— she once grilled Hillary Clinton for 11 hours over Benghazi—but her timing here raises eyebrows. Is it blind constitutional rigor, or a quiet signal that the machinery still favors its own?
Prosecutors, tight-lipped as ever, face a ticking clock. Without Richman’s files, piecing together Comey’s congressional deceptions gets trickier, especially as statutes of limitations loom. Comey’s camp, meanwhile, calls the whole affair “extraordinary prosecutorial overreach,” per past filings in similar scraps. Richman himself decried the government’s handling as a “callous disregard” of basic rights in court papers.
As the briefs pile up this week, one thing stands clear: Accountability for the FBI’s turbulent chapter under Comey remains elusive. The leaks that torched Trump’s early presidency, the anonymous sourcing that amplified them—these aren’t footnotes; they’re the fuel for a fire that nearly consumed a duly elected leader. If judges keep sealing off the records, we’ll be left sifting ashes, wondering who really pulled the strings.
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Two Storms, One Harvest
Every food crisis in living memory has been a one-shock event. The 2008 price spike was a commodity bubble. The 2020 shortages were a logistics failure. The 2022 grain scare was a war on one exporter’s ports. Each time, the system bent, adjusted, and recovered, and each time the experts assured us afterward that global markets are simply too big and too diversified to fail.
What nobody in Washington seems eager to discuss is that 2026 is shaping up to be something the modern food system has never actually faced. Two independent shocks, one climatic and one geopolitical, are converging on the same harvest cycle at the same time. Not sequentially. Simultaneously.
Start with the weather. The Pacific Ocean is currently building toward what forecasters now openly call a record event. NOAA’s Climate Prediction Center puts the odds of at least a strong El Niño near 88 percent, with roughly two in three odds it reaches “very strong” status, the tier reserved for perhaps three or four events in the entire satellite era. Every major global model now projects a median peak in Super El Niño territory, and most of them project it exceeding the 2015-16 event, which until now held the modern record. Sea surface anomalies were already brushing the super threshold in mid-July, months before these events normally peak. The atmosphere has already shifted into El Niño mode, and the event is forecast to crest in late fall and early winter.
This is not about “climate change.” It’s about the standard cycles of weather, and the cycle we’re currently in is one that has likely devastated societies in the past. We’re better prepared as a society today, but not all Americans are equally prepared.
Serious households have started doing the quiet math on their own. Grocery bills tell part of the story, and the forecast maps tell the rest, which is why long-term food storage has moved from fringe hobby to mainstream line item in the family budget, with established suppliers like Heaven’s Harvest seeing demand from people who five years ago would have rolled their eyes at the idea. That instinct is not paranoia. It is pattern recognition, and the pattern is worth walking through carefully.
Editor’s Note: Heaven’s Harvest IS a sponsor, but the warnings of this article are real and would be written even if we didn’t have a survival food sponsor. With that said, those who take advantage of what they offer can use promo code “Patriot” for 15% off.
The Fertilizer Clock Is Already Running
While the Pacific warms, the second shock has been unfolding in the Strait of Hormuz. The conflict with Iran turned the world’s most important energy chokepoint into a contested waterway, and the consequences reach far beyond the gas pump. Roughly a third of global fertilizer trade moves through Hormuz, and the disruption sent urea prices up 86 percent year over year by March, with a 53 percent jump in a single month.
The World Bank projects energy prices rising about 24 percent in 2026 and fertilizer about 31 percent. By its own accounting, fertilizer prices ran 35 percent higher in the first five months of this year than the same period last year.
Here is the mechanism the nightly news will not explain. Fertilizer is not a grocery item. It is a time-delayed input. The nitrogen a farmer in Iowa or Punjab could not afford to apply this spring does not show up as a problem this spring. It shows up as a thinner harvest six to twelve months later.
The World Bank’s own food security brief concedes that the effects of reduced applications earlier this season “are likely to become visible only later in harvest outcomes.” Translate that from institutional language into plain English and it means this. The damage is already done, it is already in the ground, and we are simply waiting for it to arrive on the shelf.
Now check the calendar. Six to twelve months from the spring planting season lands us squarely in late 2026 and early 2027. Which is precisely when the strongest El Niño in the instrumental record is forecast to peak, bringing its signature droughts to Southeast Asia, Australia, southern Africa, northern Brazil, and South Asia, the very regions that grow the world’s rice, sugar, and oilseeds.
The World Bank warns openly that a strong El Niño “could disrupt multiple crop belts simultaneously” on top of the conflict-driven input costs. Their baseline projection assumes the Middle East disruptions ease by autumn. What in the last two years of Middle East history suggests that assumption is safe?
The System Has No Slack Left
The comfortable answer is that global markets always adjust. But adjustment requires slack, and the slack is gone. Global cereal production is expected to decline from last year’s records even before El Niño does its work. The UN World Food Programme, hardly a den of right-wing preppers, is calling this the most significant disruption to its supply chains since Covid and the invasion of Ukraine, and its supply chain director put the stakes bluntly.
Today’s supply chain challenges are tomorrow’s hunger crisis.
There is also a political dimension that markets cannot price. When food gets scarce, governments do not behave like economists. They behave like politicians. Export bans, hoarding mandates, and panic buying at the national level turned the modest rice shortfall of 2008 into a global crisis, and analysts are already warning that import-dependent nations are the first dominoes.
The 2015-16 Super El Niño, a far weaker event than what is now forecast, threw tens of millions into food stress across Africa and Asia. This one is projected to be stronger, and it arrives with fertilizer already rationed by price and shipping lanes already contested by missiles.
What Joseph Knew
Scripture does not treat preparation for lean years as faithlessness. It treats it as wisdom delivered in advance to those willing to act on it.
Behold, there come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt: And there shall arise after them seven years of famine; and all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt.
Joseph did not respond to that warning with a hashtag or a committee. He stored grain during the years of abundance, and when the famine came, Egypt stood while its neighbors begged. The lesson is not that famine is certain. It is that the time to prepare is precisely when preparation still looks optional.
Nobody who filled a pantry in a year of plenty has ever regretted it, and nobody standing in an empty aisle has ever been glad he waited for certainty.
None of this calls for panic, and panic is the enemy of sound judgment anyway. It calls for the same unglamorous prudence our grandparents considered ordinary. Keep some cash margin, know your local growers, and put real food in deep storage while it is cheap and available, because the entire arc of this story is that cheap and available is a closing window.
Families looking for a straightforward place to start can visit Heaven’s Harvest and use promo code Patriot for 15 percent off long-term storable food. The forecasts may yet soften, the strait may yet reopen, and we should pray they do. But hope is a fine thing to hold and a foolish thing to eat.