By Andrew C. McCarthy
Tuesday, June 28, 2022
Cassidy Hutchinson, a top aide to Trump’s White House
chief of staff Mark Meadows, provided compelling testimony Tuesday
that former president Donald Trump is singularly culpable for the Capitol riot.
The testimony in a session of the House January 6
committee — a session abruptly called, reportedly due to concerns about Ms.
Hutchinson’s safety — was devastating because it was directly about the
former president. The day’s lone witness pulled back the curtain that
countless advisers and aides kept around the mercurial Trump for four years.
There are significant questions about aspects of her account, particularly
where it involved hearsay — things she had been told about the president’s
actions, as opposed to the things she herself witnessed. We also have to
reserve judgment, even allowing that she seems impressive, because the highly
partisan, unapologetically anti-Trump committee merely presents its side of the
story, and has gone to unseemly lengths to exclude cross-examination and
alternative perspectives. All in all, though, Hutchinson showed the nation,
moment by moment, what he was like on a day when, undeniably, Trump was at his
worst.
It was worse than America thought. Even Americans with
extraordinarily low expectations about the former president’s previously
undisclosed, behind-the-scenes behavior during the hours when the riot unfolded.
Skillfully led through a prosecutor-style direct
examination by committee chairwoman Liz Cheney, Hutchinson explained that Trump
was like a wild beast at the Ellipse shortly before his gasoline-on-the-fire
speech. The security personnel had set up magnetometers for entry into the
area. That thinned the throngs proximate to the podium where he’d be speaking.
Trump was ballistic because of the effect on “the shot” — the video image of
his speech that would go out to the world. He wanted an overflowing crowd. He
wanted to convey the impression, the reality, of a rabid mob
furious that the election had been stolen, furious that Congress was poised to
count the “fraudulent” electoral votes and pronounce Joe Biden the winner.
The magnetometers were vital for security. Despite its
being obvious that the “mags” would detect weapons, many fanatics went through
them anyway. Police thus seized knives, clubs, toxic sprays, brass knuckles,
and so on. But that is not what most alarmed security forces. They worried about
the mobs outside the Ellipse — the fanatics who chose not to
go through the mags because they were armed with deadlier weapons: Glock
pistols, AR-15s, other firearms. Cheney played communications traffic among the
security forces, along with video depicting gunmen who were spotted in trees
and elsewhere out on the Mall.
The president of the United States, nevertheless, was
“furious,” Hutchinson related, because the armed mob was being kept away. It
spoiled the optics he had in mind.
“Take the f***ing mags away,” he screamed at his aides
and security personnel. Told that this could not be done because it was too
dangerous, because there were too many lethal weapons, Trump lost it. “They’re
not here to hurt me,” he countered. It didn’t matter that they were
obviously there to hurt others, and that those others were patently the people
inside the Capitol, the ones Trump was accusing of stealing the election. The
mobs, even if armed, were his people, Trump insisted. “Take
the f***ing mags away. They’re not here to hurt me. They can come in. Then
they can march on the Capitol.”
Hutchinson was on the scene. This gale of rage happened,
she testified, just two or three minutes before the president went to the
podium.
There, he gave a willfully provocative speech. Legal
analysts, myself included, while not defending the speech — which is
indefensible — have pointed out that it does not meet the demanding legal test
for incitement. Trump makes grudging references to protesting “peacefully”
— and Cheney continues to damage her credibility by eliding mention of
that (and it’s gratuitous self-damage because, the more the evidence mounts,
the more apparent it is that it’s just a couple of throwaway lines — which
doesn’t justify omitting it as if it didn’t happen). Well, Trump’s words may
not have been incitement as a matter of law, but that doesn’t
mean they are not evidence of other potential crimes — especially once you are
informed about how fully aware the president was about the mob being lethally
armed. It is a crime, to take just one example, to aid and abet the forcible
intimidation of government officials, including the vice president and
members of Congress.
In any event, Hutchinson explained that the speech, like
all presidential speeches, was carefully vetted by staff. White House counsel
Pat Cipollone and his staff pleaded for removal of the exhortations Trump was
insistent on including — “fight for me,” “fight for the movement,” and so on.
They were too close to the legal line of incitement. It was plainly foreseeable
that the mob could take forcible action; if it did, White House lawyers feared
that this rhetoric would place Trump squarely in legal jeopardy for whatever
mayhem resulted — obstruction of congressional proceedings, intimidation of and
assault on federal officials, and so on.
The rhetoric stayed in the speech.
So did Trump’s vow that he would be marching to the
Capitol with the mob.
This had been a bone of contention for days. Cipollone
had admonished Meadows, and beseeched Hutchinson to be firm with Meadows, that
the president absolutely must not go to the Capitol from the Ellipse. Meadows
was not interested in confronting Trump on this. It may be that he supported
the insane idea, but that doesn’t matter, since it was Trump who insisted he
was doing it. Cipollone told Hutchinson of his serious legal concerns: “Please
make sure we don’t go to the Capitol, Cass,” he said. “We’re going to be
accused of every crime imaginable.” Hutchinson recalled that Cipollone was
especially worried the president would be accused of obstruction — of
interfering in the electoral count.
Hutchinson recounted that, after numerous discussions
about this among White House staff and security officials, it was “settled”
that Trump would not go to the Capitol — which is to say, the underlings made
the call without the boss, the president, being on board. Trump, however, did
not care what his subordinates thought. As he reminded people innumerable times
on January 6, “I’m the f***ing president.” Gliding on the energy of his Ellipse
speech, Trump told the throngs that they’d soon be marching on the Capitol and
that he’d be going with them.
Instantly, Hutchinson’s phone rang. It was Kevin
McCarthy, the House Republican minority leader. What did Trump mean by that,
McCarthy demanded. He can’t come here, McCarthy inveighed, reminding Hutchinson
that he’d been promised Trump would not proceed to the Capitol following the
speech. Hutchinson assured him that it wouldn’t happen.
It was happening, though — at least the planning for it
was concrete and well underway. The records of the Secret Service and the
National Security Council, which was watching things unfold in real time,
indicate that plans were being made on the fly for Trump to go to the Capitol —
to march there, perhaps, or go by car. In fact, these agencies assumed that,
once Trump ended his speech at 1:10 p.m., he was on his way to the Hill.
It was just a matter of finding the best route.
Nevertheless, Hutchinson says she learned from Tony
Ornato, the Secret Service official who ran White House security operations,
that the agent who headed up Trump’s security detail, Robert Engel, was
adamant: The president would not be going to the Capitol.
Immediately following the speech, Trump entered a Secret
Service SUV and told his detail, “Take me to the f***ing Capitol.” According to
Ornato, Engel told the president that this would not be possible, that it was
too dangerous. Trump became irate, railing, “I’m the f***ing president, take me
up to the Capitol now.”
Fortunately, Engel had no intention of testing the “I was
just following orders” defense. He refused the president. What Hutchinson says
happened next is already controversial. She was told that things got physical.
Trump was said to have lunged forward from the back seat and grabbed the
steering wheel, prompting Engel to grasp the president’s arm and state, “Sir,
you need to take you hand off the steering wheel, we’re going back to the West
Wing, we’re not going to the Capitol.” Hutchinson was told that, at that point,
Trump lunged at Engel, his free hand forcibly aimed at the agent’s clavicle.
Then things deescalated and the SUV went back to the White House — not the
Capitol.
Trump, who was obviously hanging on Hutchinson’s every
word this afternoon, issued a statement on his Truth Social platform,
declaring, “Her Fake story that I tried to grab the steering wheel of the White
House Limousine in order to steer it to the Capitol Building is ‘sick’ and
fraudulent, very much like the Unselect Committee itself.” NBC News, no Trump apologist, reported that its “close to
the Secret Service” source said Engel would dispute Hutchinson’s account, as
would the driver. Trump apologists, moreover, were quick to point out that
Hutchinson’s account is hearsay: She heard the story from Ornato, who got it
from Engel.
That’s true. Still, a few things are worth bearing in
mind. First, this isn’t just any hearsay — like idle chatter a witness might
eavesdrop on. We’re talking here about a chain of command, where government
officials are expected to report things to their superiors — in this instance,
up to the president’s chief-of-staff. More to the point, Hutchinson learned
these details just minutes after the encounter in the SUV. Ornato came directly
to Meadows’s office with Engel. As Engel looked on in apparent
affirmation, Ornato relayed what had just happened to Hutchinson. Engel
gave no indication that Ornato had gotten any of the details wrong. And if
Hutchinson is lying or exaggerating, it’s strange that, under oath, she would
voluntarily identify so many witnesses who could contradict her.
On that score, we must note that before presenting
Hutchinson’s stunning testimony, the committee interviewed Engel. (It is not clear to me
whether Ornato has testified.) Consistent with the panel’s maddeningly opaque
process, Engel’s testimony has not been released, so we can’t weigh it against
Hutchinson’s and we don’t even know if he was asked about what happened in the
SUV. All we can say is that before choosing to elicit Hutchinson’s account in a
hyped public hearing, the committee heard Engel’s testimony. Presumably, if
Engel gave the committee reason to believe Hutchinson’s hearsay account was
wrong, Cheney would not have adduced it. If it turns out that Engel disputed
Hutchinson’s story, and that Cheney knew that but adduced Hutchinson’s story anyway,
without confronting Hutchinson with Engel’s contrary version of events, the
committee might as well pack up its bags and go home. Going forward, the
committee must come clean with all the evidence it has collected on this
matter. At the very least, we should hear testimony from Ornato.
Whatever happened in the SUV, Trump returned to the West
Wing incensed, especially at Meadows, whom he blamed for preventing him from
going to the Capitol. Hutchinson said she did not witness whatever conversation
first occurred between the president and his chief of staff. When she found
Meadows in his office, though, he seemed catatonic. The television was on, the
rioters were closing in on the Capitol, and Hutchinson tried to snap Meadows
out of it, asking if he’d spoken with Trump. No, Meadows said, Trump wanted to
be alone right now. Feeling like she was watching a slow-motion trainwreck, she
pressed him, bringing up Meadows’s friend, Congressman Jim Jordan: Mark, do you
know where Jim is? Rioters seemed poised to enter the Capitol. No, Meadows
indicated that he hadn’t heard from Jordan, but the thought at least seemed to
get his wheels spinning.
Just then, Cipollone came racing down the hall. “Mark,”
he thundered, the rioters had gotten to the Capitol. “We need to go see the
president right now.” Meadows fecklessly replied that Trump was aware of what
was going on but didn’t want to do anything at the moment.
Cipollone was incredulous. Things had already turned
violent. “Mark, something’s got to be done right now.” If it wasn’t, “blood
will be on your hands.”
That, Hutchinson recalled, happened sometime around 2:15
to 2:25. Cipollone browbeat Meadows into going to see Trump.
As Hutchinson waited behind, Jordan called, desperately
seeking Meadows. Hutchinson ran with the cellphone over to the dining room off
the Oval Office. The door was closed. After confirming with the valet that
Meadows was inside, she stepped into the room and got Meadows’s attention. As
she handed him the phone, she could hear chaotic background noise, including
the now-infamous “Hang Mike Pence” chants. Hutchinson then left Meadows and
Cipollone to their tense discussion with Trump.
Moments later, the dejected pair came back to Meadows’s
office — Hutchinson believed they might have been accompanied by associate
White House counsel Eric Herschmann. She remembered Cipollone continuing to
light into Meadows: “We’ve got to do something, they’re calling for the vice
president to be f***ing hung.” Referring with resignation to the conversation
they’d just had with Trump, Meadows told Cipollone, “You heard him. He thinks
Mike deserves it. He doesn’t think they’re doing anything wrong.”
That is the background that we did not know, up until
now, for Trump’s infamous tweet at 2:24 p.m.:
Mike Pence didn’t have the courage
to do what should have been done to protect our Country and our Constitution,
giving States a chance to certify a corrected set of facts, not the fraudulent
or inaccurate ones which they were asked to previously certify.
The tweet launched a flurry of resignations — Matthew
Pottinger, the deputy national-security adviser, told the committee he decided
there and then to quit by day’s end. More followed, most prominently Education
secretary Betsy DeVos and Transportation secretary Elaine Chao.
There was much more to Hutchinson’s testimony. Trump is
prone to tantrums — throwing his plate of lunch against a wall upon learning of
Attorney General Bill Barr’s public disclosure that there was no evidence of
widespread election fraud. This was part of a pattern: It was not unusual for
the president to hurl the porcelain when his temper erupted, or just yank the
tablecloth and send the whole crashing mess to the floor, for the help to clean
up.
That was the unhinged Trump of January 6, Hutchinson
recalled: turning a deaf ear to his daughter, his oldest son, members of
Congress, and friendly media who were imploring him — directly and through
Meadows — to tell the rioters to stand down, to do something to stop the
violence. He didn’t want to hear it. He couldn’t be moved from his conviction
that the rioters were in the right, that it was Pence who had betrayed him.
It wasn’t until after 4 p.m. that his staff
could prevail on Trump to make a statement telling his supporters to go home in
peace. But he refused to condemn the attack. He told the mob that he “loved”
them, that they were “very special,” and that he empathized with their anger.
The president was equally opposed to the healing speech
his staff pleaded with him to give the day after the riot. What seemed finally
to nudge him into it was the staff’s explanation that serious discussions were
underway about the potential of invoking the 25th Amendment to remove him from
office. Even then, though, Trump could not be pushed into saying that the
election was now over. And it took emphatic advice from Cipollone and
Herschmann to talk him out of broaching the possibility of pardoning people
involved in the uprising.
Now, it is all well and good to remind everyone, again,
that the January 6 committee has foolishly undermined its credibility by failing
to provide a fair process. No, there was no cross-examination of Hutchinson.
Maybe it will turn out that — as Trump’s characteristically indecorous
social-media outbursts during the testimony suggested — Hutchinson is a “total
phony,” a “leaker” and “bad news” . . . although she has worked for many top
Republicans, is well-liked by many more, and appears to have continued getting
promoted over the years because she does a good job.
We should understand, in any event, that what Cheney did
with Hutchinson Tuesday is what prosecutors do with witnesses in grand juries
every day: drawing out the witness’s testimony with no obligation to provide
the defense perspective. To be sure, no one gets convicted at the grand-jury
stage, but an awful lot of people get indicted this way, and on far less
evidence than the country heard today.
Moreover, when we say the committee lacks due-process
legitimacy, that means it lacks legitimacy as an ultimate finder of
fact. It does not mean that we can blithely dismiss any evidence the
committee discloses. It does not mean that, because we’d prefer that the
evidence not be true, we can dismiss it out of hand because we don’t like the
Democrats or the committee process. These witnesses are testifying under oath.
There is significant risk to them if they are found to have committed perjury.
For now, all we can responsibly do is ask ourselves
whether the evidence presented under these deficient procedures seems coherent
and credible. Whether it will ultimately hold up when finally challenged — as
it very well may be in, say, an eventual criminal trial — is another story.
I’ll just say this: When I was a prosecutor, I obtained very good information
from sources that were a lot more suspect than the January 6 committee —
terrorists, hitmen, fraudsters. Yes, I still had to prove it in court, in the
crucible of adversarial challenge and cross-examination. On the other hand, I
wouldn’t have elicited it in court unless I had first been convinced that it
was true.
Cheney ended Tuesday’s testimony by eliciting from
Hutchinson that both Meadows and Rudy Giuliani sought pardons. (Trump didn’t
give any.) It had been Giuliani, back on the night of January 2, who first
asked Hutchinson, “Cass, are you excited for the Sixth? It’s going to be a
great day. The president will be there, he’ll look powerful. Ask the chief
about it.”
Shortly afterwards, she went to the office of the chief
of staff, Meadows, and related Giuliani’s words. Meadows was quiet for a while.
Finally, he answered, “There’s a lot going on Cass, but things might get real,
real bad.”
They did. And Trump, who had tweeted that his supporters
should come for a “wild” time in Washington, manifestly knew things might get
real, real bad. Instead of trying to stop it, he willfully exacerbated the
problem — and would apparently have made it worse still if the Secret Service
had not been courageously insubordinate.
That’s what we learned today. Things will not be the same
after this.