Supreme Court Justice Amy Coney Barrett’s new book reveals a gripping clash between her moral compass and her judicial oath. In an excerpt published in The Free Press, she wrestles with her personal opposition to the death penalty while upholding the law in a high-profile case. Her candor exposes the raw tension judges face when personal beliefs collide with constitutional duty.
Barrett, appointed by President Donald Trump in October 2020 to replace Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, details her struggle in "Listening to the Law: Reflections on the Court and Constitution." She faced a pivotal case involving Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, convicted for the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing, soon after joining the court. The excerpt, released September 3, 2025, lays bare her internal conflict.
Before her judicial career, Barrett co-authored an academic article opposing capital punishment on moral grounds. Yet, as a justice, she voted to reinstate Tsarnaev’s death sentence after a lower court vacated it. This decision wasn’t about endorsing execution but affirming the law’s clarity.
“For me, death penalty cases drive home the collision between the law and my personal beliefs,” Barrett writes. She’s no progressive activist, yet her honesty about this tension undercuts the woke narrative that judges are robotic ideologues. Her struggle reflects a commitment to principle over dogma.
The Tsarnaev case thrust Barrett into a legal firestorm. The U.S. Court of Appeals had overturned his death sentence, but the Justice Department pushed back, arguing the ruling was flawed. Barrett’s vote to restore the penalty wasn’t a cheer for capital punishment but a nod to judicial restraint.
Barrett could have tilted the scales to favor defendants, aligning the law with her personal stance. She rejected that path, knowing it would betray her role as a neutral arbiter. Twisting the law to fit her views would’ve been a power grab, not justice.
“Judges are referees, not kings,” Barrett asserts, slamming the door on judicial overreach. Progressives often cheer when judges bend the law to fit trendy ideologies, but Barrett’s stance exposes their hypocrisy. She prioritizes the Constitution over personal crusades.
Barrett’s decision to uphold Tsarnaev’s sentence wasn’t easy. “I found the vote distasteful to cast,” she admits, revealing the human toll of her role. Yet she stood firm, refusing to let her discomfort rewrite the law.
She considered recusing herself if her beliefs compromised her impartiality. “Had I concluded that casting such a vote was immoral … the right thing to do would have been to recuse—not to cheat,” she writes. This principled stand shames activist judges who smugly mold rulings to fit their biases.
Barrett argues that distorting the law to match her views would undermine the voters’ right to self-government. The Constitution’s framers and many Americans today support the death penalty, she notes. Her job isn’t to impose her morality but to enforce the law as written.
“The people who adopted the Constitution didn’t share my view,” Barrett acknowledges. This respect for democratic will cuts through the progressive haze that paints dissent as tyranny. She’s not here to play moral dictator.
The Supreme Court’s ruling focused narrowly on legal grounds, not the ethics of Tsarnaev’s execution. Barrett’s vote affirmed there was no legal barrier to the death penalty in his case. It’s a textbook example of judicial humility, not grandstanding.
Barrett’s excerpt is a masterclass in separating personal beliefs from professional duty. Woke culture demands judges act as social engineers, but she rejects that noise. Her approach proves conservatives can be empathetic without abandoning principle.
Death penalty cases, Barrett notes, are inescapable for judges. “The tension between my beliefs and the law is not one that I could avoid,” she writes. Her transparency offers a rare glimpse into the weight justices carry.
Ultimately, Barrett’s book underscores a truth the left often ignores: Judges serve the law, not their feelings. Her vote for Tsarnaev’s sentence was “the right thing,” despite its bitter taste. In a world obsessed with performative virtue, her integrity is a quiet rebuke.
