Why am I struggling to care that Trump was indicted again? A major world figure has been charged with a serious crime; that should get my attention. If Tony Blair was caught running a meth lab, I’d want to know more. If the Pope robbed a McDonald’s at gunpoint, I’d turn on CNN. But when I saw that Trump had been indicted for a third time — this time for trying to overturn the 2020 election — I thought “seems right” and then clicked on an article about the ten best moments from Pee-wee’s Playhouse.
I know I should care. And I know that what should matter here is Trump’s innocence or guilt. After all: Prosecuting an ex-president is a dicey precedent, but so is declaring an ex-president to be above the law just because prosecuting him would be dicey. And trying to overturn is an election is definitely illegal, even if the only example that most of us can think of is Matthew Broderick in the movie Election. So…what’s the evidence? I’ve read the indictment, and I will now summarize it and add jokes, because for some reason, that’s what I do.
But before I start, I have to issue my standard disclaimer that I am not a prosecutor nor a lawyer of any type and frankly you should be ashamed of yourself for having read even this far.
Trump is facing four charges. Each charge amounts to some version of “trying to keep people who cast ballots from having their votes counted” (if you must know the specific charges, here’s a footnote1, nerd). It is, after all, illegal to try to nullify people’s votes. If a poll worker threw some ballots down a well, that would be illegal. If Trump had chained Mike Pence to a radiator, put on a wig, and gone to Congress on January 6 and said “Here I am, Mike Pence, ready to certify the election,” that would have been illegal. Trump is charged with crimes only slightly less brazen than that.
Early in the indictment, the Department of Justice boldly defends Americans’ right to talk out of our asses. The DOJ writes:
The Defendant had a right, like every American, to speak publicly about the election and even to claim, falsely, that there had been outcome-determinative fraud during the election and that he had won.
Thank God this has been affirmed. I consider the right to spout bullshit as sacred of an American right as the right to make waiters at chain restaurants sing “happy birthday” and the right to say “save some for the fish!” when someone takes too long at a drinking fountain. Plus, if talkin’ nonsense was a crime, most of us would be in jail and Trump would have been executed in the early ‘90s. But Trump is not being indicted for being generally butt-hurt about losing; he’s being indicted for specific things that he did to try to keep the election from being certified.
The first thing Trump allegedly did is to lean on state officials to throw out valid election results. He was helped by several co-conspirators that the indictment doesn’t name, though it’s pretty clear who they are. For example: A person called “Co-Conspirator 1” went several places that Rudy Giuliani went and had several conversations that Rudy Giuliani is known to have had. The anonymity is so half-assed that the indictment might as well have called this person “Unidentified New York Mayor Who Flew Way Off The Rails” or “Septuagenarian Spittle Factory Who Is The Poster Child For Sudden-Onset Crazy Old Man Syndrome”.
Trump and his co-conspirators are said to have contacted officials in Arizona, Georgia, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin to try to keep them from certifying the vote. The scenarios described in the indictment are deeply pathetic. The Leader of the Free World is said to have called state representatives from Ball Sweat, Arizona and East Pumpkinhump, Georgia and begged them to do his bidding…and then they didn’t do it! In one instance, Trump brings two state legislators from Michigan into the Oval Office, and — surrounded by the majesty and awe of the most powerful office in the world — the two guys basically say “go jump up your own ass, Mr. President” (that’s a paraphrase). Of course, Trump wasn’t helped by the fact that his lies were so ridiculous that one of his own advisors called them “conspiracy shit beamed down from the mothership” (and that’s not a paraphrase!).
Trump’s alleged effort to bully state officials into scrapping the election didn’t work. So, he (allegedly) developed a new (definitely) stupid plan: He tried to get seven states2 to send false slates of electors to Washington. Electors are an arcane facet of the Electoral College, a system so convoluted that it’s like something Dr. Seuss would have imagined while on acid. At any rate: Electors physically cast the ballots that represent a state’s electoral votes. It’s an 18th-century way of doing things, and we still do it despite the fact that it makes about as much sense as other 18th-century ways of doing things, like carving dentures out of wood or drowning women for good luck.
Trump allegedly worked to get fake electors to cast votes in place of the real electors. The plan was Three Stooges-esque; the hope seems to have been that the fake electors — literal stooges — would show up at the right time and place, and someone would say “You must be those electors I was looking for,” and usher them in. At that point, the Trump electors would cast ballots contravening the votes of the actual electors, and chaos would ensue. It didn’t happen like that, but fake electors did meet in the seven targeted states. Unfortunately, I can’t find good information about precisely where these fake electors met…was it a Denny’s? An 8x5 storage shed? Shame on special prosecutor Jack Smith for denying us the details of these sad little meetings.
The fake elector plan didn’t get much traction, possibly because it was — in the words of one Trump advisor — “crazy” and “illegal”. But Trump wasn’t done: He allegedly tried to get the Justice Department to back his scheme. At one point, Trump is said to have brought DOJ leadership into the Oval Office and hinted that he would fire them if they didn’t do what he wanted. This pressure campaign led let to a somewhat-hilarious scene in which “Co-Conspirator 4” — almost certainly DOJ official Jeffrey Clark — informed Acting Attorney General Jeffrey Rosen that Trump had decided to replace him. Rosen — having heard nothing from Trump — simply replied that he couldn’t be fired by a subordinate. Which, of course, is true; mid-level DOJ officials can’t fire the Attorney General. Though I sort of admire Clark’s (possible) chutzpah; when I was a low-level EPA staffer, it never occurred to me to walk into the Administrator’s office and say: “Hit the bricks — you’re fired.” And perhaps that lack of initiative is why my EPA career was so middling.
Trump’s alleged attempt to strong-arm the DOJ didn’t work. So, he tried to strong-arm Mike Pence. Count me among those who are shocked that Mike Pence — a man who seemed destined for a spot in the Garret Hobart Hall of Forgettable Vice Presidents — ended up being the unflappable John Wayne figure in this narrative. But here we are. The indictment recounts Trump badgering Pence morning, noon, and night to nullify the election. Trump hauled Pence into the Oval Office to make his case; he turned a “merry Christmas” call into a push to alter the election. Vice Presidents can’t really dodge the president — when the President is on the phone, they can’t say “my pizza’s here” and hang up. So, instead, Pence repeatedly stated that he doesn’t have the power to nullify the election. Which is correct, and even Trump’s über-hack legal advisor (probably John Eastman) seemed to admit as much when pressed.
Trump’s alleged pressure campaign against Pence didn’t work. But when a mob stormed the Capitol on January 6 — remember that? — the indictment argues that Trump used the chaos to make another push to have the election nullified.
Importantly: The indictment doesn’t focus on Trump’s role in causing the riot. Much of the post-January 6 dialogue has been about whether Trump “incited” the riot, which depends entirely on one’s definition of “incited”. But instead of getting bogged down trying to answer that question, the indictment recounts how Trump responded to a crowd storming the Capitol and threatening to murder the Vice President with a “let’s see how this plays out” attitude. It notes that Trump’s first tweets after the Capitol was breached were about how the election was stolen. It claims that Trump repeatedly ignored pleas from advisors to tell the rioters to leave. It’s an astounding series of events, and it adds yet another surreal layer to the upcoming presidential primary. If I’m Mike Pence, in the debate where you get to ask questions directly to your opponent, I’d ask Trump: “Why were okay with me being murdered by an angry mob?”
The indictment repeatedly argues that Trump knew what he was doing. The DOJ uses the word “knowingly” 36 times, because proving intent is key to proving fraud. Of course, that’s tricky with Trump, because: Does Trump really know anything? I mean: Does a salmon know to swim back to its place of birth to spawn? Or does it just have an urge that can’t be explained in terms of human cognition? Just as normal modes of human thought might not be applicable to anadromous fish, so, too, they might not be applicable to the 45th president.
But the indictment repeatedly argues that if Trump didn’t know that he lost, he certainly should have. Trump was repeatedly told by advisers, lawyers, state officials, members of Congress, Justice Department officials, and one very brave little Vice President that his claims of fraud were bogus. And consider: It wasn't Rachel Maddow or NPR telling Trump that he lost — it was basically every one of his colleagues and advisors save the few hand-selected cranks who ended up in the indictment.
The intent question is why two moments in the indictment loom large. First, Trump calls a conspiracy theory floated by Co-Conspirator 3 (probably Sidney Powell) “crazy”…and then amplifies it anyway. Later, Trump responds to Pence’s assertion that he doesn’t have the authority to throw out votes by saying: “You’re too honest.” These statements indicate that Trump knew what he was doing. Those faint glimmers of sentience from the president — fleeting though they were — may end up being damning to his defense.
Those are the charges. They are, of course, almost completely irrelevant to the public discussion surrounding this case. People either like Trump or they don’t; at this point, he could probably defile the bones of the Unknown Soldier and still get 37 percent of the vote in the Republican primary. Most people will probably determine Trump’s guilt or innocence based on their pre-existing opinions of him.
Nonetheless: Those are the charges. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an article about how Jonah Hill is skinny now to read.
The charges against Trump in this indictment are: 1) Conspiracy to defraud the U.S. government, 2) Conspiracy to obstruct an official proceeding, 3) Obstruction of an official proceeding, and 4) Conspiracy against rights. Lawfare has a good rundown of the laws that apply to each charge.
Arizona, Georgia, Michigan, Nevada, New Mexico, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin.
I can't speak to the other 6 states, but in GA the fake electors met in the actual state capitol. My friend is the journalist under subpoena by Fani Willis. He recognized one of them, followed him into a room at the capital with his phone, and asked "Hey guys! What's going on here?"
That's the most honest summary of the situation that I've read so far - with or without jokes!