In the cold, indifferent machinery of the American legal system, three justices—Ginsburg, Scalia, and Murphy—dared to howl against the iron consensus of their peers. Alone in the judicial void, they each lit a solitary candle in a courtroom long surrendered to silence, fear, or compromise. Their dissents, unheeded in their time, read now like deathbed warnings of a nation’s moral decay.

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg: The Prophetess in Chains

She stood alone in the shadows while her colleagues stripped the Voting Rights Act bare (Shelby County v. Holder), tossing away protections like rotted armor before the battle resumed. Ginsburg saw what others refused to see: the return of disenfranchisement cloaked in legality. Her words, seething and prophetic, likened the majority’s logic to “throwing away your umbrella in a rainstorm because you are not getting wet.” But the storm wasn’t coming—it was already here.

In Ledbetter v. Goodyear, she watched the Court entomb a woman’s right to equal pay beneath the dust of technicalities. Ginsburg, the lone voice of reason, was dismissed while systemic injustice calcified into precedent. She read her dissent aloud. Not for her colleagues. For the future. A courtroom of ghosts.

Gonzales v. Carhart (2007)

The Court upheld the Partial-Birth Abortion Ban Act, even without a health exception.

Ginsburg dissented alongside Justices Stevens, Souter, and Breyer—criticizing the ruling for ignoring Roe v. Wade and Planned Parenthood v. Casey precedent.

She emphasized the importance of women’s autonomy and warned against legislative interference with medical judgments  .

Bush v. Gore (2000)

Although Ginsburg did not write the main dissent, she was the sole justice to openly state “I dissent” and criticized the Court’s decision to halt Florida’s recount, effectively deciding the 2000 presidential election  

Justice Antonin Scalia: The Executioner of Constitutional Illusions

In Morrison v. Olson, Scalia watched the Court handcuff the President with the Independent Counsel Act—an abomination, he warned, that would metastasize through the executive like judicial cancer. His lone dissent thundered: “this wolf comes as a wolf.” But no one listened. Not until years later, when the beast devoured its makers.

In Navarette v. California, the Court let anonymous whispers justify state intrusion. Scalia, unblinking, called it what it was: a “freedom-destroying cocktail.” He saw clearly that the Bill of Rights was being traded for vague comfort. Alone, he stood at the gate and called it treason.

In Hamdi v. Rumsfeld, he refused to let the Court invent due process for wartime prisoners. You either charge the man—or let him rot legally. There is no third way in a constitutional republic, he warned. But the others wanted compromise. Scalia wanted truth. And so he was abandoned.

Justice Frank Murphy: The Conscience No One Could Stomach

Justice Murphy wasn’t just alone—he was exiled. In Falbo v. United States, as the nation marched to war, Murphy recoiled from administrative tyranny cloaked in patriotic fervor. While others applauded bureaucrats imprisoning Jehovah’s Witnesses, he exposed their venom: “I don’t have any damned use for Jehovah’s Witnesses,” a draft board official said. That was the system. Murphy saw it. And he screamed.

Then came Korematsu. The Court legalized the mass internment of Japanese-Americans. Only three dissented. But Murphy’s dissent bled. He called it what it was: racism—raw, institutional, and genocidal. His words didn’t just dissent. They accused.

In Adamson v. California, Murphy saw the Court refuse to protect the Fifth Amendment against state abuse. He warned them: procedural cruelty will become common law if you allow it. But they didn’t care. So Murphy wrote alone, his ink the last barrier before due process became a matter of state whim.

Final Verdict:

Ginsburg, Scalia, and Murphy stood like haunted sentinels on a crumbling wall. They did not win. Their warnings were often mocked, ignored, or buried. But in each dissent was a relic of something purer—an echo of the Constitution before it was twisted into a weapon or an excuse. They were the conscience of a system that preferred convenience over justice. They were the last to speak before silence fell.

And now their words remain… like tombstones.