We’ve found “accountability,” and its name is Cassidy.
Finally, at long last, after years searching in any and all parties, we have another profile in courage — Cassidy Hutchison. I told my wife as we watched her testify, “She’s no John Dean!” until the moment the word “ketchup” came from her lips. With the tablecloth cleanup of the wall of the White House coupled with the reach for the steering wheel and stab at the clavicles of an aide, a flash of light dawned on me, “My god, this is John Dean all over again.”
She has leveled former President Donald Trump as no pundit, academic or politician has ever done — a plate-slamming, tantrum-throwing adolescent who lives in a world of his own completely disassociated from reality, as unfit and as dangerous as can be.
How much relief I felt as this washed over me. There is nowhere enablers, sycophants, grifters and schemers can hide or now even redeem themselves. Upon reflection – who she is, where she was and what she did and now what she’s described for all to hear — is just unimaginable. Her testimony will grow louder and spread further and further as time passes.
If you haven’t yet, read what she wrote in her college publication in 2018. You must. It reveals who she is. The words of an idealistic young woman soon to be aide to Rep. Steve Scalise, Sen. Ted Cruz and Chief of Staff Mark Meadows. These now-fallen emperors bought their clothes from the same haberdasher as the president to prance and preen in the sacred halls of our nation’s revered public institutions and now this woman has softly spoken. The kings have no clothes on.
Ronald Cheney
Francestown