Before the infamous Portland inflatable frog incident, the D.C. Sandwich Guy captured the nation's attention. Sean Dunn, a Department of Justice paralegal, famously threw his Subway sandwich at Customs and Border Patrol agent Greg Lairmore during the Trump administration's martial law test run in D.C. Despite losing his job at the DOJ, Dunn avoided indictment, as the grand jury issued a no bill amidst laughter, leading to a surge of lawyer jokes across the country.

However, the Trump administration pressed forward with a misdemeanor charge against Dunn, leading to a trial that began the day after National Sandwich Day. The trial's proceedings quickly turned into a spectacle. As reported by a Huffington Post journalist, Agent Lairmore testified that while the sandwich did not injure him, it "kind of exploded" on impact against his ballistic vest, leaving him with a memorable scent of onions and mustard.

The prosecution aimed to paint a dramatic scene, suggesting that the sandwich was thrown at "point-blank range" and could be perceived as dangerous. They strategically used the phrase "kind of exploded" to suggest a level of violence far removed from the reality of a disintegrating sandwich.

Social media reactions were swift, with users humorously noting the absurdity of the situation. One user quipped about the lasting impact of mustard and onions, while another referenced the smell of the condiments as reminiscent of a war scene.

Legal commentator George Conway humorously tweeted about the potential sentencing implications of using different types of mustard, highlighting the farcical nature of the proceedings.

In court, the defense challenged the portrayal of the sandwich as a weapon. They presented a video still of the sandwich post-throw, questioning Agent Lairmore if he recognized the sandwich, to which he admitted he did not collect it after the incident. This line of questioning emphasized the prosecution's exaggeration of the event.

Agent Lairmore revealed that his colleagues had given him a plush sandwich toy and a patch labeled "Felony Footlong," indicating that even within the agency, the incident was treated with a degree of levity. This underscored the defense's argument about the unserious nature of the accusations.

As the trial continued, the discussion veered between the comedic and the surreal, encapsulating the bizarre nature of criminally charging someone over a sandwich throw. The case not only highlighted the occasional absurdity of legal proceedings but also captured a moment of cultural levity in an otherwise tense political climate.