In the early days of this country, legitimate law enforcement was often scarce, weak, or simply nonexistent. In that vacuum came the so-called vigilance committees, a polite name for mobs with ropes, bad tempers, and an allergy to due process. They held kangaroo court “trials” that usually ended the same way: some poor soul swinging from a tree while the crowd congratulated itself for delivering justice. Swift. Satisfying. Primitive. The kind of justice you get when the loudest man in the mob also appoints himself judge, jury, and executioner. Today, of course, we like to pretend we are civilized. We arrest suspects. We file charges. We hold hearings. We allow lawyers to argue, judges to rule, witnesses to testify, and juries to deliberate. The process can take years. Felony cases often crawl through the courts at the speed of an arthritic mule. Appeals can last decades. That is simply too slow for the modern bloodthirsty crowd. They do not want evidence. They do not want nuance. T...