President Donald Trump signed pardons for nine people convicted of violating the Clean Air Act by tampering with diesel vehicle emissions-control systems, framing the clemency as a correction to what he called politically motivated enforcement under his predecessor. Trump announced six of the pardons on Truth Social, declaring the recipients had been "persecuted by the Biden Administration" and punished for "fixing their car."
The pardons were part of a broader batch of 11 clemency actions, AP News reported, which also included pardons for Adam Kidan, a former business partner of lobbyist Jack Abramoff convicted of fraud and conspiracy, and Jack Harvard, a Texas ranch owner convicted of bank fraud in the 1980s.
The nine emissions-related pardons land at the intersection of two things conservatives have long understood: federal environmental regulations often punish the people who keep America's trucks running, and the Biden-era Justice Department was not shy about using criminal law to make examples of small operators.
A Fox News review of federal court records identified eight of the nine pardon recipients as diesel mechanics or car tuners prosecuted for selling and installing so-called "defeat devices", hardware or software that reprograms trucks to bypass federally required emissions controls and suppress diagnostic warnings. The nine named recipients are Matthew Geouge, MacKenzie "Mac" Spurlock, Ryan Lalone, Wade Lalone, Tim Clancy, Joshua Davis, Barry Pierce, Aaron Rudolf, and Jonathan Achtemeier.
Not all of the cases were small-time. Geouge's December 2021 plea agreement showed his two companies grossed more than $10 million from the sale of illegal tuning devices alone. That figure sets him apart from a mechanic like Spurlock, who ran a shop in Alaska helping truckers keep their rigs from shutting down in subzero weather.
The Washington Examiner confirmed the full list of nine emissions-related pardon recipients, noting the Department of Justice had already announced in January 2026 that it would no longer criminally prosecute individuals who install defeat devices. Civil penalties, however, could still apply.
The most politically vivid case among the nine belongs to MacKenzie "Mac" Spurlock, an Alaska mechanic and Air National Guard veteran who owned Matanuska Diesel. Senator Dan Sullivan, Republican of Alaska, issued a written statement celebrating the pardon and describing the federal enforcement action that preceded Spurlock's conviction.
Sullivan's account was pointed. He described the EPA's approach not as routine law enforcement but as a show of force against a small business owner in a state where the regulations in question created real-world danger on the road:
"Four years ago, about 30 armed EPA agents conducted a military-style tactical raid of Matanuska Diesel, owned by Mac Spurlock, a devoted husband and father, small business owner, and veteran of the Alaska Air National Guard."
Sullivan went on to explain the practical reason Spurlock's shop had modified emissions systems. His statement described the diesel exhaust fluid (DEF) controls as a "one-size-fits-all Obama-era emissions regulation" that failed to account for Alaska's extreme climate:
"His shop had assisted trucking businesses by modifying several diesel emissions-control systems mandated by a one-size-fits-all Obama-era emissions regulation, ensuring the vehicles wouldn't shut down in Alaska's harsh, subzero conditions."
That last point matters. When DEF systems malfunction, they can force a truck into "limp" mode, limiting speed to as little as 5 mph. On an Alaskan highway in January, that is not a regulatory inconvenience. It is a safety hazard.
Trump has used his clemency power repeatedly to address what he views as weaponized federal prosecution, and the Spurlock case fits squarely into that pattern.
The pardons did not arrive in a vacuum. The underlying complaint, that DEF systems break down constantly and create costly headaches for operators, has substantial backing from people who manage diesel fleets for a living.
Brad Bylsma, the state equipment fleet manager for the Alaska Department of Transportation and Public Facilities, said in a March statement that DEF systems account for a "significant portion of our maintenance issues and costs" with state-owned diesel vehicles. That is not a political opinion. It is a maintenance report from a state agency that has to keep its trucks on the road.
Frederic Sifuentes, president of an Alaska-based transportation service, put the problem in starker terms: "The percentage of breakdowns we have here in Alaska with the DEF systems is roughly 85 percent of the time." If that figure is even close to accurate, it describes a regulatory mandate that is itself a source of operational failure.
The EPA itself has acknowledged the scope of the problem. The agency has described DEF system failures as "extraordinarily common" and stated they have been "causing massive headaches for truckers and farmers for years." The EPA also issued new guidance removing the requirement for DEF sensors, a tacit admission that the technology was creating more problems than it solved.
When a federal agency concedes that its own mandated technology fails constantly, and then the Justice Department prosecutes mechanics for helping truck owners work around those failures, something has gone wrong with the enforcement priorities of the federal government.
The pardons follow a policy shift already underway. In late January 2026, the Trump administration announced it would no longer pursue criminal charges against manufacturers, distributors, and users of defeat devices. The pardons formalize that posture for the nine individuals who had already been convicted.
Breitbart reported that the pardons followed a memo Trump signed earlier in the week directing the EPA to allow Americans to fix their own vehicles as they see fit, a "right to repair" framing that resonates with rural voters and small-business owners who depend on diesel equipment.
Attorney Stewart Cables, who has been involved in seeking clemency for emissions-related convictions, told Newsmax: "We think this type of case is an example of government overreach. That's why we are trying to get these pardons."
The administration has also set a precedent for this kind of clemency. Trump previously pardoned Wyoming mechanic Troy Lake, who served seven months in federal prison for disabling pollution-control equipment on diesel engines. The nine new pardons extend that logic across a wider set of cases.
Trump's use of the pardon power has drawn scrutiny from both sides of the aisle. The debate over presidential clemency has intensified in recent years, with critics and defenders alike arguing over where executive mercy ends and political favoritism begins.
The two non-emissions pardons in the batch deserve separate mention. The New York Post reported that Adam Kidan, convicted of fraud and conspiracy in 2006 as a business partner of lobbyist Jack Abramoff, received a pardon based on his post-prison success in the staffing industry. Jack Harvard, the Texas ranch owner convicted of bank fraud in the 1980s, was pardoned for his post-conviction public service, which included housing endangered animals and allowing military training on his land.
Neither case involves emissions or the Clean Air Act, but both fit the administration's stated rationale of recognizing rehabilitation and productive post-conviction conduct. Trump has granted full pardons in other high-profile cases on similar grounds.
The core tension in these cases is not complicated. The federal government mandated emissions-control technology on diesel trucks. That technology, by the EPA's own admission, fails at extraordinary rates. Mechanics who helped truck owners bypass the failing systems were prosecuted under the Clean Air Act, in some cases facing armed federal raids. Now a president who promised to rein in federal overreach has wiped those convictions clean.
Critics will argue that the Clean Air Act exists for a reason and that defeat devices increase pollution. That is true as far as it goes. But the question the pardons raise is whether criminal prosecution, with all its force, including armed raids on small businesses, was a proportionate response to mechanics helping truckers keep their rigs moving.
Sullivan's description of 30 armed EPA agents descending on a small diesel shop in Alaska is not the image of a government carefully calibrating its enforcement tools. It is the image of a bureaucracy that lost perspective on who the real offenders are.
The broader question of how presidential pardon power should be exercised will continue to generate debate. But whatever one thinks of clemency in the abstract, the facts of these cases make the government's enforcement posture hard to defend on common-sense grounds.
When the EPA itself admits its mandated technology fails constantly, prosecuting the people who fix the problem is not enforcement. It is a policy that punishes the wrong people for the government's own mistakes.
