And Now We Know His Name
I didn’t know JD when he walked up to me and threatened me on camera. But I knew, immediately, that I would.
I know more about JD than I ever wanted to.
I know he worked construction. Lives in Vancouver, Washington. I know what his wife looks like angry and what she looks like crying. I know what his breath smells like and what his eyes look like when he decides you’re less than human. I know what his back looks like when you follow him out of a screaming mob.
I didn’t want to know these things, but I do.
On November 14th, I flew to Washington DC to cover the Million MAGA March as a freelance journalist. I spent the day amongst the tens of thousands of Trump supporters who took to the streets of Washington DC. I listened to speech after conspiratorial speech about alleged election theft by the Democrats, “globalist” forces, and a complicit media. I saw a lesbian Trump supporter get into a shouting match with a homophobic street preacher and filmed the Proud Boys strut menacingly outside their favorite DC bar.
Which is also a cop bar. Go figure.
I listened to Nick Fuentes address his Groypers and, through his barely-disguised white nationalist rhetoric, began to see how this strange and doomed Hail Mary…
