This story was published in partnership with The Trace, a nonprofit newsroom covering gun violence in America.

For decades, McLean Bible Church has served as the place of worship for many of DC’s Republican elite. The sprawling evangelical megachurch in Vienna, Virginia, boasts a roster of former parishioners that includes everyone from Ken Starr to Mike Pence. It’s where Donald Trump once dropped in for a brief prayer after a round of golf.

McLean Bible is also where, in November 2017, a senior pastor named Dale Sutherland formed a nonprofit called Act2Impact. In those days, the organization was described in state records as an “auxiliary” of the church, with a mission to “preach the gospel” and “conduct evangelistic and humanitarian outreach.”

But that mission was short-lived.

Two years later, Sutherland—who had once been an undercover narcotics officer in DC—left McLean Bible and filed papers to rename Act2Impact. It became the Constitutional Defense Fund (CDF), which would “promote and secure” constitutional rights. “We aim to defend and strengthen those rights through methods that will include litigation and other means,” the filing stated. New directors joined, replacing church elders. One was Joseph Abdalla, a former cop who’d been Sutherland’s partner.

Around this time, Sutherland also leaned into a new persona, adopting the Undercover Pastor as his brand and moniker. “Buying cocaine and preaching Jesus. A weird combo,” notes his website, which touted a newsletter—“get biblical wisdom delivered to your inbox”—and YouTube channel. “I used to lock people up,” he likes to say, “now I’m trying to set people free.”

Sutherland is much less public about the CDF, which in the half-decade since its rechristening has evolved from spreading the good news to facilitating a far-reaching, multimillion-dollar legal campaign to dismantle America’s gun laws. From 2020 to 2022, the CDF collected $12 million in cash and funneled nearly $10 million to two connected gun rights groups and a DC law firm, Cooper & Kirk, which together have filed at least 21 lawsuits since 2020 that challenged gun restrictions. These lawsuits, aimed at getting an eventual Supreme Court hearing, concern bans on AR-15-style rifles and high-capacity magazines, as well as restrictions on young adults buying and carrying handguns. During its next term, which begins in October, the court will hear one of the suits, a challenge to the government’s ability to check the spread of home-produced, unserialized “ghost guns.”

The CDF paid Cooper & Kirk more than $8 million between 2020 and 2022. The fund also made payments to the Second Amendment Foundation and the Firearms Policy Foundation (an offshoot of the Firearms Policy Coalition), which are the plaintiffs, individually or together, in every one of the 21 lawsuits the operation is behind.

The CDF’s money came via Donors Trust, a pass-through fund founded in 1999 with the aim of “safeguarding the intent of libertarian and conservative” philanthropists who seek to channel their wealth into right-wing causes. The trust has more than $1 billion in assets and is not legally required to identify its donors.

In short: An anonymous funder or funders is bankrolling a legal attack aimed at providing the conservative majority on the Supreme Court an opportunity to wipe out America’s firearms laws. It’s akin to the Christian right’s abortion playbook but for guns.

It’s akin to the Christian right’s abortion playbook but for guns.

“It’s about as far from a bottom-up, grassroots operation as possible,” said Adam Skaggs, chief counsel and vice president of Giffords Law Center, who has spent a decade tangling in court with gun rights interests. Skaggs said that in terms of its ambition and scale, the dark money operation is unlike any litigation funding arrangement he’s seen.

The motives of many of the players in this drama—gun rights advocates and the conservative lawyers who work for them—are obvious. But Sutherland is more of a mystery. People who have known him for years say they’ve never heard him talk about the Second Amendment or state a position on the gun debate.

Over the past two years, I have tried to piece together this network and chart its workings. It’s an effort that has involved reading many thousands of pages of financial filings, depositions, and court records. I’ve done dozens of interviews and knocked on the same doors again and again, trying to figure out how an undercover pastor became the unlikely middleman for a covertly funded operation to abolish gun laws. Here’s what I’ve learned.

The Firm

In August 2019, before he stepped on a podium in Colonial Williamsburg, Charles Cooper was introduced as a “legend” of the conservative legal world. He began by warming up the crowd at the Convention of States Project leadership summit, which brings together people who want to amend the Constitution to eliminate what they consider ambiguous language that has enabled liberal advances. “Are there any freedom-loving, anti-communist patriots in this room?” The audience clapped and cheered. “Do any of you cling to your Bibles and your guns?”

“Are there any freedom-loving, anti-communist patriots in this room? Do any of you cling to your Bibles and your guns?”

The day before, Cooper had lost his decades-long gig as the National Rifle Association’s outside counsel. As details of financial abuses became public many had rallied around then-CEO Wayne LaPierre. Cooper did not and was purged.

Before representing the NRA, Cooper led the Department of Justice’s Office of Legal Counsel, which advises the president and executive agencies. Cooper’s Reagan-era DOJ opinions—for instance, one finding that employers could refuse to hire those with AIDS—burnished his reputation as a polished champion of a strident conservatism. Cooper tapped Samuel Alito to be his deputy and, two decades later, would guide him through the Supreme Court confirmation process. By then, Cooper had founded Cooper & Kirk, which became known as the conservative movement’s prestige advocate. It hired hard-right zealots from elite law schools, including Ted Cruz, Tom Cotton, and Noel Francisco, who would become Trump’s solicitor general. Cooper defended Proposition 8, California’s ban on gay marriage, and represented fellow Alabaman Jeff Sessions when the then-attorney general was under scrutiny for his contacts with Russian officials in 2016.

Cooper’s Williamsburg speech was titled, “The Real Threat to the Second Amendment.” He described how his work had contributed to split circuit court rulings on whether people have a right to carry guns outside the home for self-defense. A case that would resolve that question, he noted, was before the Supreme Court.

Cooper was referring to New York State Rifle & Pistol Association v. Bruen, which challenged a New York law that required applicants for concealed carry permits to demonstrate a heightened need for protection. At the time, Cooper & Kirk was representing the Bruen plaintiffs. Although the firm did not argue the case before the Supreme Court—that was handed off to star SCOTUS advocate Paul Clement—invoices show that in April 2021, the month the justices agreed to hear Bruen, Cooper & Kirk managing partner David H. Thompson conferred with lead attorneys on the case about an “amicus panel,” a body of subject experts that advises on litigation strategy.

CDF money went to attorneys and advocacy groups that filed friend of the court briefs backing the plaintiffs. Such filings, known as amicus briefs, are integral to legal strategy in appellate litigation and are often cited by higher courts in decisions. Thompson filed an amicus brief in Bruen on behalf of the Second Amendment Foundation. And another partner at the firm, John D. Ohlendorf, did so on behalf of J. Joel Alicea, himself a Cooper & Kirk attorney identified in the brief only as a professor at Catholic University. The CDF-funded Firearms Policy Foundation filed an amicus brief as well. So did the archconservative Claremont Institute, which got a $105,000 CDF grant in 2021 to support gun rights. John C. Eastman—the lawyer who helped rally Trump’s faithful before they stormed the US Capitol on January 6, 2021, and is now under indictment in Georgia and Arizona for attempting to subvert the 2020 election—wrote the Claremont brief. (Eastman’s law license has been temporarily suspended in California and DC.)

The Supreme Court’s 6-3 decision in Bruen was momentous. Conservative justices not only struck down New York’s law, but also established a new test for the constitutionality of all gun restrictions. No longer should courts weigh the government’s interest in reducing violence or promoting public safety against the right to bear arms, the majority said. Rather, the constitutionality of gun laws should depend on whether they’re similar enough to restrictions in place when the Second Amendment was adopted in 1791, or when the 14th Amendment was ratified in 1868, points at which the original meaning and public understanding of the Second Amendment are best discerned.

Lower courts have since seen a surge in challenges to firearms restrictions, ruling on an average of one a day in the year after the decision, according to an analysis by Jacob D. Charles, a scholar at Pepperdine Caruso School of Law. Although courts have diverged when applying the standard, thanks to Bruen, gun laws are being struck down at an unprecedented clip. “We are more excited than ever about the future,” Brandon Combs, director of the Firearms Policy Foundation and the Firearms Policy Coalition, declared after the Bruen ruling. “Indeed, FPC is already working with the exceptional litigators at Cooper & Kirk—truly the best in the space—on the largest Second Amendment litigation program in the country.”

The Plaintiff

Of course, before Cooper & Kirk can get involved, a plaintiff is needed. That’s where the Second Amendment Foundation and the Firearms Policy Coalition come in. They not only act as plaintiffs, but they also recruit individual plaintiffs, someone who can claim standing—a direct injury from the law that’s being challenged.

The Second Amendment Foundation has always been involved in litigation, and in 2013, it helped create the Firearms Policy Coalition, which is similarly focused on challenging gun laws in court. Since Trump appointees have made the composition of the Supreme Court so favorable and the foundation began to receive CDF funds in 2020, the groups have become juggernauts. In the three years prior to 2020, a public database of federal lawsuits identifies them, alone or together, as plaintiffs in 28 actions; in the three subsequent years, that number jumps to 89. “We want to get a case before the Supreme Court,” Second Amendment Foundation founder Alan Gottlieb told journalist Stephen Gutowski last year. “And the quicker these cases move, the better for gun ownership and for gun rights.”

“We want to get a case before the Supreme Court. And the quicker these cases move, the better for gun ownership and for gun rights.”

Gottlieb created the Second Amendment Foundation and another group at the vanguard of conservative crusades, the Center for the Defense of Free Enterprise, back in the early 1970s. He is known for direct-mail and marketing savvy, and for cashing in on right-wing causes through private companies that have business arrangements with his advocacy groups. In 1984, he pleaded guilty to felony tax fraud and was sentenced to a year in prison, which he served largely on work release. (More recently, the attorney general of Washington state investigated Gottlieb, who filed a lawsuit against the office alleging the inquiry into his activities was politically motivated.)

Gottlieb first gained public notice in the late 1980s as an architect of the Wise Use movement, which championed the exploitation of natural resources and an end to environmentalism. Backlash to federal control of land in Western states and encroachment of environmental regulation fueled a groundswell. “I’ve never seen anything pay out as quickly as this whole Wise Use thing has done,” Gottlieb said back then. “It touches the same kind of anger as the gun stuff, and not only generates a higher rate of return, but also a higher average dollar donation. My gun stuff runs about $18. The Wise Use stuff breaks $40.” When news stories linked Wise Use to the Rev. Sun Myung Moon’s Unification Church, Gottlieb described them as “overplayed.” In 2023, he headlined the Rod of Iron Freedom Festival, an event hosted by the Rod of Iron Ministries, which is led by a son of Moon. The MAGA-allied church glorifies AR-15-style rifles—the type of gun used in the recent attempt to assassinate Trump—seeing in them the biblical “rod of iron,” Christ’s prophesied instrument of dominion at Armageddon.

In November 2022, two years after the CDF operation began, Gottlieb gave a deposition as part of a challenge to an Illinois law that prohibits young adults from carrying a gun in public. When I first read the deposition in early 2023, many questions I’d had were answered. In it, Gottlieb testified that an anonymous funder was supporting the case by paying his counsel, Cooper & Kirk. He said the firm had given him a statement outlining how much money the person had spent on what he estimated to be a dozen foundation lawsuits underway in 2021. (Court records confirm his assessment.)

When asked whether he knew who was paying Cooper & Kirk, Gottlieb testified, “I wish I did.”

That remark alarms some legal ethicists, who argue that rules of professional responsibility should be interpreted as requiring that a client know who is paying their counsel before consenting to representation. “He’s either just lying or the firm is delinquent in getting informed consent,” said Dru Stevenson, a professor at South Texas College of Law Houston who specializes in legal ethics and firearms regulation.

In response to written questions, Gottlieb said that his answers in the deposition were “accurate” and that “our attorneys did not fail to get our informed consent, it was given.” Outside funding arrangements can raise questions about whether the financial backer or plaintiff is really in charge, but Gottlieb said, “merely because a third-party may have paid for some services rendered, SAF retains control over all legal direction, strategy, and settlement authority, which is wholly ethical.”   

Gottlieb is not the operation’s only beneficiary who seems to be unaware of the source of the largesse. In 2021, the CDF paid Gary Kleck, a professor emeritus of criminology at Florida State University whose work has been touted by gun interests for decades, $6,900, according to an IRS filing. When I emailed him, Kleck said the money was a consulting fee from Cooper & Kirk for work he’d done on Bruen. “I have no idea what the Constitutional Defense Fund is,” he said, “and had never heard of it before you contacted me.”

The Professor

Even when they go before a court inclined to overturn gun laws, the lawyers and plaintiffs need research to bolster their case. Enter Georgetown assistant professor William English, who in 2021 received a $58,750 CDF grant and the same year filed a key brief supporting the Bruen plaintiffs.

Before arriving at Georgetown in 2016, English, a political economist, was research director at Harvard University’s Edward J. Safra Center for Ethics. (While at Harvard, he also founded the Abigail Adams Institute, whose mission is “reviving traditional humanities education”—i.e., the Western canon. In 2022, the CDF gave the institute a $23,000 grant for “constitutional research.”)

In June, the New York Times ran a profile of English in which the existence of a dark money drive to strike down gun laws being run through the CDF was first revealed. The Times detailed how English’s Bruen brief was filed jointly with the Center for Human Liberty—another part of Gottlieb’s operation that was incorporated in Nevada two months before English filed his brief. In it, English argued that, based on his own research that had not been peer-reviewed, there was no connection between right-to-carry laws, increased numbers of gun carry permits, and violent crime. The brief was prepared by a Manhattan attorney, Edward Paltzik, whose firm received $80,000 from the CDF in 2021.

English’s work suited the needs of the Bruen plaintiffs perfectly. Their counsel cited it during oral arguments, and Charles Cooper’s pal, Alito, did so in a concurring opinion. An update English later published concluded that AR-15-style rifles are in “common use,” a finding central to the gun movement’s legal advocacy post-Bruen. Since the ruling, gun interests have cited English’s work in dozens of motions and pleadings in cases nationwide.

Academics on both sides of the gun debate have found defects in English’s work. In a January 2023 deposition in an Oregon case, Kleck, the Florida State professor, said English’s survey can’t be relied on. “He’s vague about exactly how he developed his sample,” Kleck said. “And there is nothing in his report to contradict the assumption that what he had was a self-selected sample.”

I’d been trying to get English and Georgetown to respond to questions about his research since the Bruen ruling came down. In December 2022, I paid a visit to the gated community where Georgetown President John DeGioia lived. After that, the university’s communications office finally responded by email, stating: “Georgetown respects and supports academic freedom, including the right of its faculty members to conduct independent research. The University’s Institutional Review Board reviewed this study before the survey began, and the survey costs were supported by an external grant that did not flow through the University.”

The tax ID number that the CDF reported to the IRS in conjunction with English’s grant is Georgetown’s. Asked recently to clarify the meaning of “did not flow through the university” and whether it had a position on English’s failure to divulge who funded his work, a Georgetown spokesperson said in an emailed statement that the university is “unable to identify any record of Constitutional Defense Fund funds flowing through Georgetown and is uncertain why the University’s tax identification number appears in CDF’s records. Georgetown faculty members have academic freedom to conduct independent research projects. The views of faculty members are their own and do not necessarily reflect those of Georgetown University.”

On June 26, English published an op-ed in the Wall Street Journal in which he defended his work, bashed the New York Times, and characterized attempts by me and other reporters to get answers from him as “harassment.” English wrote that the Times “and other outlets are signaling that they will cancel academics who state inconvenient facts…Those of us who want to foster an evidence-based public-policy discourse should reject these tactics, and courts should take note of them.”

The Middleman

Lawyers and academics all need to be paid, which brings us back to the Undercover Pastor.

Sutherland likes to tout his time with the DC police, but not all of his undercover work ended smoothly. In one early 1990s case, Sutherland and Abdalla—now on the board of the CDF—handled an informant named Arvell “Pork Chop” Williams, who was shot 16 times and killed. When federal prosecutors tried members of the drug crew suspected in the killing, it emerged that Williams had been allowed to continue making street buys for Sutherland, who was posing as a Georgetown University construction worker seeking crack, despite the presence of the “white guy” causing dealers unease, according to court transcripts. At trial, evidence went missing, including a pager in Sutherland’s possession that defense attorneys argued could shed light on the killing and related crimes. “I am going to get the chief of police and the United States attorney in here and read them the riot act,” the judge said at one point. “To lose evidence of various kinds day after day is just not satisfactory.” Prosecutors dropped the murder charge but obtained drug conspiracy convictions against the defendants.

After Sutherland left the DC police force in 2013, his role at McLean Bible, where he’d long held staff positions, grew. In 2016, he began talks with the Southern Baptist Convention on a partnership to “plant” churches in the DC region. Sutherland founded an entity called New City Network, an arm of McLean Bible, to carry out the work. Concerned that the partnership violated McLean’s constitution, which requires the church to remain unaffiliated with denominations, a group of members filed suit against McLean in 2022.

The legal battle revealed a complex series of money transfers totaling more than $7 million between McLean, the convention, and New City Network. The plaintiffs felt that records and testimony produced in their suit demonstrated that the partnership had indeed violated McLean’s constitution and dropped their case last year. In a letter summarizing the litigation, however, their attorney made clear that questions remain: “Current and former church leaders deposed could not explain the reasons for this unorthodox payment structure, or state with confidence where the money went specifically.” A church webpage allows that “financial transactions for the church planting were sometimes confusing,” but says an independent audit accounted for the money spent. 

“Current and former church leaders deposed could not explain the reasons for this unorthodox payment structure, or state with confidence where the money went specifically.”

Sutherland was among those deposed. He said that he’d left McLean Bible and his role leading New City Network in May 2019. He was unable to name any churches the network had started, save for one in Falls Church, Virginia, where he and his son-in-law now preach. “For Heaven’s sake,” Sutherland said. “I can picture all the pastors in my head. I just can’t think of the names they gave their churches. Boy oh boy.”

One of the plaintiffs in that suit, Jeremiah Burke, said Sutherland’s limited recall was an act. “He repeatedly recounts, in his podcast and on his Instagram page, in vivid detail, events from 20 and 30 years ago with absolute precision, events in which he is the hero,” Burke said. “However, in his deposition, having sworn under oath to tell the truth, Dale somehow couldn’t call to mind details of significant events from the recent past.”

One name that Sutherland could not recall in his September 2023 deposition was Veritas Church in DC’s Georgetown neighborhood, which had gotten New City funds. Sutherland became interim pastor of Veritas in 2020 and renamed the church City Light, the same name used by the church in Virginia that he and his son-in-law lead. In 2020 and 2021, IRS disclosures for the CDF listed City Light’s Georgetown location as the CDF address. When I visited last year, I found a largely vacant office building, save for one floor occupied by the Embassy of the Republic of South Sudan, and no sign of a church or the CDF.

A former McLean Bible elder, who spoke on condition of anonymity to discuss internal church matters, described Sutherland as “kind-hearted” and a “warrior for the Lord,” but also “deceptive.” During the church planting drive, he said, Sutherland “did things the way he wanted to, he just kind of ran rogue.” The elder said Sutherland “is a pretty good talker, he can sell pretty well,” and would “cuddle up next to” the congregation’s big donors.

As Sutherland left McLean Bible and established the CDF, he began to collect more money from his array of nonprofits, including Code 3 Association, whose stated goal is better relations between police and the public. (Abdalla is a director there, too.) In 2020, these nonprofits—the CDF, Code 3, and Boost Others, Inc.—paid Sutherland and his private company, Code 3 Consulting, more than $200,000. Over the next two years, Sutherland collected more than $700,000 from his nonprofits. He also began flipping DC properties, which he sometimes bought from the estates of the recently deceased or those in bankruptcy. From 2020 through early 2023, records show, he bought at least a dozen properties valued at $7 million and sold them for more than $11 million.

In short, Sutherland has been awash in cash since he filed paperwork to create the CDF. In one sense, he’s an odd middleman. People who know him can’t recall Sutherland expressing support for scuttling gun laws. “I never heard him talk about the Second Amendment or gun rights,” said the former McLean elder. “I never did, nope, and I was with him a lot.”

“I never heard him talk about the Second Amendment or gun rights. I never did, nope, and I was with him a lot.”

But there are connections that lead back to McLean Bible. In a 2023 interview, Thompson, the Cooper & Kirk managing partner who has overseen much of the firm’s Second Amendment work, praised the church that was his spiritual home for two decades. “I grew up Episcopalian,” said Thompson, who did not respond to written questions for this story, “and about 20 years ago, I became a born-again Christian and went to McLean Bible Church.”

Twice in the last year, I knocked on the door of Sutherland’s home. I got no response and left a business card. Attempts to reach him by phone failed. Then, in mid-June, he answered. I asked him to explain how he’d come to be running money through the CDF to Cooper & Kirk. “Sir, I am in the car with my grandson,” Sutherland said, “and I am not talking.”

The Dark Money

In July 2016, a young man in Washington state, angry and jealous after a break-up, bought an AR-15-style rifle and a 30-round magazine. A week later, he bought another 30-round magazine, then shot and killed three people, including his ex-girlfriend, at a house party. He later blamed his actions in part on easy access to guns. The killings prompted the state legislature to enact a ban on high-capacity magazines and AR-15-style rifles. The Second Amendment Foundation and the Firearms Policy Coalition, as co-plaintiffs, filed suits in 2022 and 2023 to strike down the bans. Cooper & Kirk is their counsel in the case targeting the magazine capacity ban. English’s survey findings were cited by the plaintiffs in both cases. (As the Times reported, however, the plaintiffs subsequently agreed not to rely on English’s work “in any respect” after the state sought to subpoena information from English in the AR-15 case regarding the development of his survey.) Both cases are pending in federal district court in Washington state.

Autumn Snider’s son, 19-year-old Jake Long, was the first to be shot and killed at the party. Snider said those with the means to fund litigation meant to impact public policy should be free to do so—as long as they do so openly. “You have the obligation to reveal who you are and should have the confidence to provide transparency to the public,” Snider said. “If you can’t be forthcoming with who you are, that is a red flag.”

Defenders of using dark money to support litigation liken the practice to anonymous political speech, which enjoys First Amendment protection. But such arguments have limits, said Adam Winkler, a constitutional law professor at UCLA School of Law who has written a book on the gun debate. “First Amendment rights are mitigated by the need to ensure the integrity of the judicial system,” Winkler said. “We generally don’t allow parties in a case to be anonymous.”

Anonymous funding arrangements, which are not uncommon in the realm of impact litigation, effectively allow an “end run” around judicial ethics safeguards. “How do you know whether there is any impropriety, any influence peddling?” Winkler said. “It’s fundamentally problematic.”

Seth Endo, an associate professor at Seattle University School of Law, said the debate over disclosing the identity of anonymous funders involves fundamental questions about the role of courts. If courts are neutral arbiters of the rights and responsibilities of disputing parties, as many who work in them like to contend, then it’s easy to argue that disclosure is irrelevant. However, if courts are not detached umpires but are themselves political agents that drive social change, then the public has a strong interest in knowing who’s enabling litigation, Endo said.

Given Cooper & Kirk’s ties to deep-pocketed conservatives who specialize in waging ideological battles through courts, there are any number of suspects who may be routing millions of dollars through Donors Trust to Sutherland’s CDF—and on to the advocacy groups and their lawyers.

Donors Trust is a pass-through that effectively conceals the identities of individuals and advocacy groups backing right-wing causes. (On the political left, organizations like the Tides Foundation do the same.) Those who give to Donors Trust can say how they’d like their money to be spent, but they don’t have the final word. In exchange for giving up that control, they get up-front tax benefits. Prominent funders and architects of the modern conservative movement, including the Kochs, the Bradley Foundation, and hedge fund tycoon Robert Mercer, have all moved money through Donors Trust. 

In 2013 and 2014, Mercer’s foundation gave a total of $800,000 to Gottlieb’s Center for the Defense of Free Enterprise, which was at its zenith when Gottlieb was pushing his Wise Use agenda. Mercer is a gun lover and Trump devotee. From 2020 to 2022, Mercer’s foundation gave more than $56 million to Donors Trust. Mercer’s daughter Rebekah, who has spearheaded her family’s philanthropic and political efforts, did not respond to emailed questions.

By the end of 2022, the last year for which IRS filings are public, Sutherland’s fund had $1.6 million on hand. The pastor has recently formed other nonprofits with similar names, including an outfit called the Constitutional Freedom Fund, incorporated in Virginia in 2022, and the Foundation for Constitutional Freedom, established in Utah in December 2023. Details on their activities have yet to be disclosed.

Recently, a French film director named David André unveiled a documentary series on Sutherland called Dale L’Infiltré, or Dale Undercover. A blurb on a promotional video reads, “Dale Sutherland, a young pastor-police officer, will become a master in the art of infiltration, filming criminals without their knowledge and using fictitious identities: Italian mafia boss, pimp, drug trafficker, rap producer.” Sutherland also recently started a new podcast: Cops, Criminals, and Christ.

In the fall, Cooper & Kirk is slated to represent the Firearms Policy Coalition, which is joined by the Second Amendment Foundation before the Supreme Court in the ghost gun case. Given the court’s current political lean, the gun rights advocates might well prevail. Other cases, which could result in AR-15-style rifle and high-capacity magazine bans being ruled unconstitutional, are wending their way through lower courts, though the funding source for this entire dark money operation remains shrouded from the public.

Update, July 30: This story has been updated to further detail Alan Gottlieb’s involvement with the criminal justice system.