The sweeping pardons granted by President Donald Trump in 2025 to numerous January 6th defendants have raised questions about how those defendants might obtain additional relief beyond mere release from incarceration. A presidential pardon, while erasing federal punishment, does not necessarily eliminate the collateral consequences of conviction or remove the lingering reputational stain. It also does not foreclose state-level prosecutions or end civil or administrative actions. Indeed, for some individuals, the central goal is to achieve exoneration—often by continuing to fight on appeal, pursuing motions to vacate convictions, or filing for attorney’s fees under the Hyde Amendment (part of the Commerce-Justice-State Appropriations Act) to remedy what they view as vexatious or bad-faith prosecutions. Others may contemplate civil suits based on alleged misconduct by the January 6th Committee, federal prosecutors, or law enforcement officers. The purpose of this article is to outline the existing legal paths, while acknowledging the complexities introduced by pardons, the possibility of overlapping state investigations, and the fact that President Biden issued preemptive pardons to January 6th Committee members, prosecutors, and officers in his final days in office. Although the mention of misconduct by the select committee and federal prosecutors often evokes skepticism, reports of withheld exculpatory evidence, slanted investigative practices, and political motivation have spurred many defendants and their counsel to explore all available remedies. One thing is certain: even after your cells have been unlocked and you’ve stepped into the fresh air, you might still have miles to go before completely clearing your name.

Limited Impact of a Presidential Pardon

In reviewing the avenues open to January 6th defendants now benefiting from a federal pardon, it is essential to note that the pardon operates only with respect to federal offenses. Under Article II of the U.S. Constitution, the president’s clemency power is broad but does not—and cannot—bind state governments. Thus, if a defendant faces potential state charges arising out of the same events, the federal pardon provides zero shield. Some states have openly declared they would not pursue such cases, seeing them as federal matters. Still, others might continue their investigations if the underlying behavior violates state statutes (for instance, assault on local officers). The dual-sovereignty doctrine, recognized by the U.S. Supreme Court, means double jeopardy concerns do not apply across federal and state lines (see Gamble v. United States, 587 U.S. ___ (2019)). While a second prosecution sounds extreme, it is not legally impossible. Needless to say, it’s wise to keep tabs on your local attorney general’s press releases before putting the entire saga behind you.

Many who received pardons remain eager to press forward with appeals aimed at vacating or dismissing the underlying conviction—even if the practical benefit is “just” clearing their records. Courts sometimes moot an appeal when a defendant receives a pardon, since the punishment effectively disappears.

Appeals Can Still Continue

However, there is well-established precedent allowing defendants to proceed if there are “continuing collateral consequences” (see Carafas v. LaVallee, 391 U.S. 234 (1968); Sibron v. New York, 392 U.S. 40 (1968)). For instance, a felony conviction can harm professional licensing, immigration status, firearm ownership rights, or eligibility for certain benefits—even if no one is sending you back behind bars. Consequently, lawyers typically argue that a live controversy remains in the form of these lingering consequences. Some judges have found that possibility sufficient to rule on the merits of an appeal or a post-conviction motion under 28 U.S.C. § 2255.

Of particular interest to January 6th defendants is the U.S. Supreme Court’s clarification in Fischer v. United States, 579 U.S. ___ (2023), on the proper interpretation of 18 U.S.C. § 1512(c)(2). Prior to Fischer, several trial and appellate courts had construed the statute broadly to include a wide range of disruptive behavior inside or outside the Capitol. Fischer significantly narrowed that scope, holding that § 1512(c)(2) applies only to conduct that directly and intentionally impairs the integrity or availability of evidence in an official proceeding. This ruling may not precisely absolve those who violently obstructed law enforcement, but it has offered strong grounds for individuals who merely wandered into restricted areas or engaged in less direct forms of protest to argue they should never have been swept under that statute’s net. Under Teague v. Lane, 489 U.S. 288 (1989), and Montgomery v. Louisiana, 577 U.S. 190 (2016), new substantive rules—those that narrow a criminal statute’s reach—are often retroactive to cases on collateral review. Defendants using Fischer as a sword may claim that their conduct no longer falls within the federal prohibition, effectively undermining the basis of their convictions. And there is some comedic irony that a Supreme Court ruling arrives four years too late—like getting an umbrella after the downpour has already drenched you—but in law, tardiness of a favorable precedent can still mean relief for those who pursue it with vigor.

How to Get Legal Fees Back

One method not frequently discussed is the Hyde Amendment, which allows recovery of attorney’s fees and other litigation costs if they can show the prosecution was “vexatious, frivolous, or in bad faith.” That standard, as courts have repeatedly stated, is intentionally high. In United States v. Sherburne, 249 F.3d 1121 (9th Cir. 2001), for example, the Ninth Circuit underscored that “bad faith” implies more than a mere disagreement over the strength of evidence—it typically requires demonstrating that prosecutors knowingly pursued baseless charges or engaged in unethical conduct. If a defendant can prove the government suppressed exculpatory materials (in violation of Brady v. Maryland, 373 U.S. 83 (1963)), manipulated witness testimony, or filed charges for strictly political reasons, the chance of succeeding on a Hyde motion improves. The rub is that Biden’s last-minute pardons of January 6th Committee members, federal prosecutors, and law enforcement officers may affect criminal liability but do not necessarily insulate them from civil discovery or bar the creation of a record of misconduct. Civil suits for malicious prosecution or constitutional torts (Bivens actions) may still be available—though the path is steep given immunities available to prosecutors and the well-documented reluctance of federal courts to extend Bivens (see Ziglar v. Abbasi, 582 U.S. ___ (2017)). Nonetheless, as with any uphill climb, some are still up for the challenge, especially given the potent sense of injustice many defendants harbor. Expect arguments along the lines of “the evidence was doctored” or “my exculpatory witness was never called,” particularly if transcripts from the January 6th Committee reflect internal discussion that certain angles of video footage or pieces of testimony were withheld for strategic reasons.

Expungement

Aside from the pursuit of a Hyde motion or civil suit, defendants may also wish to expunge or seal their records. Regrettably, federal law provides no general expungement statute except in very limited circumstances (such as certain wrongful convictions or specific drug-related scenarios). Pardons typically do not erase the record of arrest or conviction; they merely excuse the punishment. Thus, a defendant might remain a “convicted felon”—albeit a pardoned one—unless an appellate court or a § 2255 motion results in the conviction being reversed or vacated. For that reason, attorneys who represent individuals with professional licenses or public reputations often encourage continued legal battles to see if Fischer or newly discovered evidence might secure a reversal on the merits. One side effect of a reversal, if successful, is that it can bolster a subsequent malicious prosecution claim by demonstrating a lack of probable cause from the outset. Double-checking that your counsel filed notices of appeal or post-conviction motions timely (Fed. R. App. P. 4(b); 28 U.S.C. § 2255(f)) is crucial, because missing a filing deadline can doom any chance of substantive review.

Practical realities loom as well. Many January 6th defendants faced relatively short sentences, and some had already finished their terms by the time the pardons arrived. Fighting for attorney’s fees, risking more court appearances, or devoting time to appeals can feel exhausting or futile for those who have moved on with their lives. Meanwhile, others who bear the scars of highly public prosecutions see moral and reputational vindication as paramount. Each individual’s choice will hinge on personal, financial, and strategic considerations. It is also advisable to keep an eye on how the Department of Justice and the U.S. Attorney’s Office respond to renewed legal challenges. If they maintain that the conduct was inherently violent or seditious, even a pardon does not necessarily shift their stance. By contrast, if new evidence emerges that prosecutors concealed crucial details, the impetus to rectify the record may lead the government to drop its opposition to certain defendants’ motions or appeals. One might recall how the Justice Department occasionally concedes error when the glaring nature of a Brady violation or newly exposed misconduct is impossible to ignore.

This dynamic interacts in unusual ways with Biden’s pardons of the January 6th Committee members, staff, and officers. While they can no longer be prosecuted federally, they can still be subpoenaed or deposed for civil matters and may be forced to testify about the internal workings of the Committee’s investigation. Should that reveal purposeful malfeasance, such as forging evidence or coaching witnesses to provide untruthful statements, it would strongly support a finding of vexatious prosecution under the Hyde Amendment. Of course, obtaining that proof will likely require wrangling in civil court, where qualified or absolute immunity defenses might arise—particularly if the targets were acting within their legislative or law enforcement capacity. Add to that the reality that some of these same officials might still be in positions of authority or closely aligned with powerful political figures, making disclosure an uphill climb. It’s enough to make the average pardoned defendant wonder whether the “exoneration highway” is full of detours and potholes.

The Double Edged Sword of a Pardon

Trump’s overarching pardon policy, while sweeping, might also leave unanswered questions about official disclaimers of guilt. Historically, the Supreme Court in Burdick v. United States, 236 U.S. 79 (1915), noted that acceptance of a pardon can carry an “imputation of guilt” and that a recipient may decline it if they wish to maintain innocence. Since so many defendants actively sought and embraced Trump’s clemency, prosecutors might argue that this acceptance undercuts claims of innocence—even though many recipients explicitly contest that they were guilty of anything beyond peaceful protest or misguided trespass. Still, from a purely legal standpoint, if Fischer narrows the statute or if the prosecution truly withheld key evidence, a defendant should not be barred from seeking exoneration simply because they accepted the get-out-of-jail-free card. As a strategic matter, attorneys might highlight that the initial acceptance of a pardon was an act of prudence, not an admission of wrongdoing.

In short, for those with the fortitude to keep fighting, the path forward typically involves (1) continuing direct appeals or post-conviction motions to challenge the conviction under Fischer and other relevant precedents, (2) exploring a Hyde Amendment motion if the evidence of misconduct or bad faith prosecution is solid, (3) contemplating civil litigation such as malicious prosecution suits if immunities do not block the claim, (4) preparing to ward off or negotiate with any state or local authorities considering follow-on charges, and (5) facing the emotional and financial toll that further legal proceedings inevitably bring. Strickland v. Washington, 466 U.S. 668 (1984), reminds us that defendants also have a Sixth Amendment right to effective counsel; if your trial counsel did not anticipate Fischer arguments or failed to demand exculpatory evidence vigorously, that might form grounds for an ineffective assistance claim in a 28 U.S.C. § 2255 petition.

Each tactic, of course, depends on individual circumstances, the strength of the evidence, and the presence or absence of continuing consequences. In the end, while a pardon lifts the immediate weight of incarceration, the yearning for a clear slate or compensation for wrongful treatment can drive defendants back into the legal trenches. And if you’ve spent enough time in those trenches, a bit of gallows humor might be just what the counselor orders: “You may have your freedom—just don’t expect to get your life, your money, or your peace of mind back anytime soon without one more fight in court.”

Prior Historical Examples

Although President Trump’s wave of clemency for January 6th defendants in 2025 has generated intense legal and political debate, this is hardly the first time large numbers of people have been pardoned or that questions arose about holding the government accountable for alleged overreach. There have been moments in U.S. history when broad presidential pardons intersected with subsequent (or concurrent) claims of government wrongdoing. For example, in the immediate aftermath of the Civil War, President Andrew Johnson issued a series of proclamations offering amnesty to many former Confederates. While these acts of clemency reduced punishment for rebellion, they did not necessarily grant “vindication,” particularly for newly freed Black citizens who had suffered egregious abuses and sought remedies under emerging civil rights legislation. The struggle to hold government authorities or state actors to account for war-related abuses often ran into immunity doctrines or the slow machinery of the courts, as evidenced by the patchwork nature of Reconstruction-era litigation.

Draft Dodging

A more modern illustration can be found in President Jimmy Carter’s blanket pardon of Vietnam War draft evaders through Proclamation 4483 in 1977. Although Carter’s action spared many individuals from criminal exposure, it did not fully erase the social stigma or eliminate collateral consequences such as lost veterans’ benefits or professional opportunities. Some groups sought to challenge the government’s handling of the war draft procedures or the manner in which certain communities were targeted. There were, however, significant legal hurdles to recovering damages for these alleged improprieties, particularly because courts are reluctant to allow broad suits against the government unless a specific statutory waiver of sovereign immunity applies. In that context, while the Carter pardons restored civil rights for thousands, attempts to sue for wrongful classification or selective prosecution often failed due to procedural obstacles and the difficulty of proving “bad faith” in the government’s overall Vietnam-era policy decisions.

Potential Civil Lawsuits and What We Have Learned

Beyond pardons, history also offers examples of large-scale lawsuits grounded in egregious misconduct by federal authorities, some of which led to compensation—even without any underlying notion of clemency. Prominent here is the Japanese American internment during World War II. The Supreme Court infamously upheld the internment in Korematsu v. United States, 323 U.S. 214 (1944), yet Congress later acknowledged the injustice by passing the Civil Liberties Act of 1988, awarding monetary reparations to surviving internees. Though not a direct parallel—no one was “pardoned” because being incarcerated in internment camps was not a criminal conviction—it nevertheless stands as an instance where the government ultimately recognized that it had committed grave wrongdoing and offered damages to a large group. Similarly, the Tuskegee Syphilis study prompted a class-action lawsuit, resulting in a $10 million out-of-court settlement in 1974 for the victims who had been misled and mistreated by U.S. Public Health Service officials. Again, this was not tied to pardons but highlights another context in which individuals banded together to confront federal misconduct.

Civil Lawsuits Face an Uphill Battle

Turning back to January 6th, many of the defendants who received clemency from President Trump continue to assert government wrongdoing—particularly by the House Select Committee that investigated the attack and by federal prosecutors. The accusations point to Brady violations (see Brady v. Maryland, 373 U.S. 83 (1963)), politically motivated charging decisions, and selective use or omission of video footage. President Biden’s eleventh-hour pardons of Committee members, federal prosecutors, and law enforcement involved in January 6th investigations have sparked debate about accountability. While these pardons generally shield recipients from federal criminal charges, they do not block civil discovery or eliminate the possibility of suits alleging constitutional violations (such as claims under Bivens v. Six Unknown Fed. Narcotics Agents, 403 U.S. 388 (1971)). Yet many practical barriers exist, including prosecutorial immunity, qualified immunity, and courts’ reluctance to expand Bivens liability in new contexts (Ziglar v. Abbasi, 582 U.S. ___ (2017)).

In theory, a mass group of pardoned January 6th defendants could jointly pursue claims if they can show evidence of a coordinated scheme of malicious prosecution or bad-faith investigation. However, as evidenced by precedent in malicious-prosecution lawsuits, the standard for government liability is stringent. For instance, the Hyde Amendment (part of Pub. L. No. 105-119, Title VI, § 617) does allow defendants to recover attorney’s fees if they prove the prosecution was “vexatious, frivolous, or in bad faith.” Courts have repeatedly held that this standard is high (see United States v. Sherburne, 249 F.3d 1121 (9th Cir. 2001)), requiring proof of something more than an aggressive or even misguided prosecution; it demands a showing of deliberate wrongdoing by federal attorneys.

Historical perspective demonstrates how mass pardons or momentous admissions of government misconduct do not by themselves guarantee that injured individuals recover damages or fully clear their names. One reason is that pardons only stop federal punishment; they do not automatically overturn convictions, nor do they compel the judiciary to vacate a guilty plea or verdict. Hence, the impetus for some January 6th defendants to press on with direct appeals or post-conviction motions under 28 U.S.C. § 2255, especially in light of Fischer v. United States, 579 U.S. ___ (2023), which narrowed the application of 18 U.S.C. § 1512(c)(2). If a court embraces Fischer retroactively pursuant to Teague v. Lane, 489 U.S. 288 (1989), then these defendants might invalidate their convictions on substantive grounds. This is especially critical for anyone seeking civil redress later, because a favorable judgment that the original prosecution lacked any legal basis is a powerful asset in subsequent tort or fee-recovery litigation. By contrast, if an appellate court deems a pardoned case “moot,” it might decline to reach the merits—something that would frustrate defendants striving for full exoneration or official findings of wrongdoing by prosecutors or investigators.

Take a Page Out of History

From a strategic standpoint, January 6th defendants pursuing group-based challenges may take cues from other large-scale suits in American history, though those analogies are admittedly imperfect. Japanese internees sought legislative redress after exhausting judicial remedies that were mostly unavailing in the 1940s. Victims of the Tuskegee experiment turned to civil courts when evidence of deception became irrefutable. Vietnam-era draft evaders accepted a form of global clemency but found less traction in seeking compensation from the government. Each scenario underscores that financial or reputational vindication typically requires (1) a clear statutory or jurisprudential path (like the Civil Liberties Act of 1988), (2) unambiguous proof of government misconduct, and (3) public or political pressure sufficient to move courts and legislatures to act. That last factor—public sympathy—can be pivotal, as successful large-group claims for misconduct often arise at moments when a broader societal consensus emerges that the state committed gross injustice.

For January 6th defendants, forging such a consensus is challenging given the ongoing polarization around the events at the Capitol. Nevertheless, whether one views those events as seditious and violent or as protest actions inflated into a political cause célèbre, the notion of seeking recourse for alleged prosecutorial abuse remains a staple of America’s constitutional system. If exculpatory evidence was indeed withheld or if the Committee’s methodology was tainted by partisan goals, the door to a Hyde Amendment motion or a civil lawsuit is at least ajar. Of course, acceptance of President Trump’s pardon may complicate these claims; historically, some courts have treated a pardon as evidence that a conviction was valid unless and until proven otherwise (Burdick v. United States, 236 U.S. 79 (1915)). The practical effect is that defendants might need to show a direct correlation between the alleged misconduct and an outcome that even the government now concedes was undeserved.

It is a steep climb but not an impossible one. Certain suits from the COINTELPRO era—where government infiltration and disruption of activist groups were exposed—demonstrate that large-scale revelations of wrongdoing can prod courts to entertain claims that might otherwise be summarily dismissed.

The parallel to earlier mass pardons is notable: it always leaves behind a question of who actually “won” in the long run and whether a formal act of clemency clarifies or only complicates final judgments about guilt or misconduct. As the record stands, post-pardon litigation by these defendants will face major procedural barriers and an uncertain legal climate, much like big cases from the Civil War era through modern times. Historical precedent suggests that unless there is a concerted push to enact special legislation or an extraordinary judicial finding of misconduct, achieving true collective compensation or mass vacatur of convictions can be elusive. Still, individual wins—be it a successful Hyde Amendment motion, a vacated conviction under Fischer, or a negotiated settlement in a civil suit—may create building blocks for broader redress. The final lesson from history is that those who persist with a robust factual record, a coherent legal theory, and a measure of moral credibility sometimes do manage to shift the narrative and secure tangible relief, even if the path is steep and the ultimate reward arrives long after the headlines have faded.