In my years working in Washington, few figures commanded the same respect as the late Sen. Bob Dole. As his communications director, I witnessed his unwavering dedication to the disabled and the disenfranchised, a commitment born from his own harrowing experiences in World War II and his long recovery. That is why learning that Thomas Crooks, the man who tried to assassinate former President Trump, used Dole's name as an alias for ordering suspicious packages felt like a gut punch.
The revelation, buried in new FBI files about Crooks' preparation, adds another layer of tragedy to an already senseless act. Crooks, a 20-year-old from Bethel Park, Pennsylvania, killed one rallygoer and wounded two others before being neutralized by Secret Service snipers. The fact that he chose Dole's name—a man who embodied bipartisanship and public service—is a bitter irony.
My own connection to Trump predates his political career. I first admired him during my time in the Reagan White House after reading The Art of the Deal. I considered it a masterclass in real-world business strategy. Years later, I had the privilege of spending time with him at his golf course in Jupiter, Florida, just three days before the Butler rally.
During that visit, I saw a side of Trump rarely captured by the media. He knew his staff by name, asked about their children, and shared genuine laughter with them. It was a stark contrast to the adversarial portrayal in the press, which has often framed him as a divisive figure. Yet, that human moment also made me more aware of the threats he faces.
As I left, I approached his Secret Service detail and said, "Thank you for your service. Please protect him." I felt a knot in my stomach knowing he would soon be at another outdoor event. The heated rhetoric from both sides of the aisle, but particularly from the far left, had created an environment where violence felt possible.
What drove Crooks to commit such an act? The political divisions in this country are deep, but they do not excuse violence. The FBI's ongoing investigation has yet to provide a clear motive, leaving many questions about his mental state and radicalization.
The use of Bob Dole's name is a haunting reminder that even the most respected figures can be dragged into the darkest corners of our politics. Dole spent his life bridging divides, yet his legacy is now entangled with a troubled young man's actions.
As we await more answers, it is crucial to remember that the vast majority of Americans, regardless of party, reject violence. The monuments to our veterans stand as a testament to the sacrifices made for our democracy. We owe it to them, and to Dole's memory, to demand accountability and understanding.
