“I can’t give people pictures of something that’s not happening,” White told Sweeney.
“That’s your problem, Dana,” Sweeney said. “Just get the damn pictures.”
The pressure wasn’t coming from Sweeney, of course. It was coming from the top. Trump had pushed the entire military apparatus to help him illustrate the show of might that he had ordered up, which could convince voters that he was protecting the nation from the dangerous “invasion” of migrants that was getting closer each day to a showdown at the border. Sweeney and every senior agency official knew the fastest way to please the president was to get the message on the station he and his fans power watched. “Get something on Fox immediately,” Sweeney told White. Trump just didn’t understand that U.S. Armed Forces don’t simply hop on a C-17 one night and start patrolling the banks of the Rio Grande the next afternoon. “No one would push you to show that except the one person who doesn’t know,” a Defense Department official said of the president.
Mattis’s aides agreed that to satisfy Trump’s wishes they would have to get pictures of National Guard troops and asked state National Guard officials who hadn’t yet shipped out if they could snap photographs or shoot video of their reserve troops training at home. The first images they finally got—after more than twenty-four hours of hustling—were of the Texas National Guard, the first to have images of troops in drills. “People were more focused on the pictures rather than what we are allegedly doing,” the Defense Department official said of the White House. “The urgency wasn’t on the mission. It was on getting the pictures.” Trump also wanted to see military generals being interviewed on television news, preferably at the border and in a commanding role. Word came down from the White House that images of National Guard officials were not good enough.
By November 3, the first wave of military troops had arrived at the border and photos emerged of uniformed service members installing razor-wire fencing along the Texas side of the Rio Grande. Trump remarked at a campaign rally in Montana that evening, “We have our military on the border. And I noticed all that beautiful barbed wire going up today. Barbed wire, used properly, can be a beautiful sight.”
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Trump sought to frighten voters in the final days of midterm campaigning by using the threat of an “invasion” of illegal immigrants to stoke fears of cop killers—or, as Trump called asylum seekers, “bad hombres.” Nancy Pelosi, the House Democratic leader poised to become Speaker, called Trump’s fearmongering a “scare-a-thon.” This period amplified Trump’s ugliest characteristics as president. “He goes out and says crazy, horrible things, blows race whistles and sits back and watches his topic of craziness dominate cable TV for the next 24 hours,” said Mike Murphy, a Republican strategist.
On Election Day, November 6, Democrats seized control of the House and picked up several key governorships in the Midwest and even Kansas, propelled by a rejection of Trump’s demagoguery in the nation’s suburbs, especially among women voters. But Trump’s demonization of immigrants helped Republicans expand their majority in the Senate, where the 2018 map had strongly favored Republicans with most of the competitive contests in such red states as Missouri and Texas.
The Democratic triumph in the House was powered by a record number of women candidates. This would be the most racially and gender-diverse freshman class of representatives in congressional history, and Pelosi was set to reclaim the Speaker’s gavel she lost eight years earlier. In her election night speech, Pelosi signaled that House Democrats would use their subpoena power to investigate Trump and hold his administration accountable—as Republicans had not. “Today is about more than Democrats and Republicans,” she said. “It is about restoring the Constitution’s checks and balances to the Trump administration.”
The next day, Trump predicted—presciently, it would turn out—“a warlike posture” should House Democrats use their new power to investigate him. “They can play that game, but we can play it better, because we have a thing called the United States Senate,” Trump said at a news conference. “I think I’m better at that game than they are, actually.” Trump refused to show any contrition or take responsibility for his party’s defeats. After the 2010 midterm elections, President Obama talked about his party’s “shellacking.” And after the 2006 midterm elections, President Bush spoke of his party’s “thumpin’.” But Trump didn’t even acknowledge the loss. Rather, he claimed “very close to complete victory.”
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Trump did achieve a victory of another sort that day. Finally, he got rid of Sessions. As election results were still being tallied the night of November 6, Trump told advisers he was eager to ax the attorney general right away. The next day, Sessions was gone.
Everything had seemed so normal the night before. Sessions; his wife, Mary; Rosenstein; and aides Isgur Flores and Stephen Boyd were hanging out in Boyd’s Justice Department office watching the election returns on Fox. Sessions knew he was not long for Trump World. Internalizing his own fragility, the attorney general had taken to quoting from Princess Bride to staffers as he left the office at night: “Good night, Westley. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.”
On November 7, Kelly called Sessions. The president wanted him to resign. Sessions summoned his aides to his office. “It’s happening,” the attorney general said. “Come on up.” It was surreal. Rosenstein counseled Sessions to try to leave on his own terms. “Pick a date,” Rosenstein said. “Make it two weeks [from now]. We’ll have a farewell party and an appropriate send-off. It’s humiliating for you to just walk out. You’ve been advancing his agenda here, you’ve gotten a lot done, you have a lot to be proud of, and you shouldn’t have to leave under these circumstances.”
It was Wednesday and Sessions asked Kelly if he could have until Friday to resign, but Kelly wasn’t the decider. He checked with the president and called right back. “It has to happen today,” Kelly informed Sessions. “If it doesn’t happen right now, there will be a tweet.”
Sessions stood behind his desk as he held up the phone, his suit jacket removed and wearing a white shirt, red tie, and glasses. He had long ago drafted a resignation letter, and Isgur Flores immediately started touching it up on her phone. The team debated what his first line should say, and Sessions decided to begin with “at your request,” making it clear he had not resigned voluntarily. In the letter, Sessions highlighted his work at the Justice Department to enforce immigration laws and prosecute gang violence. Notably, he called the rule of law, which Trump had so often tried to override or thwart, “a glorious tradition that each of us has a responsibility to safeguard.” An assistant printed a copy on Justice Department letterhead, Sessions signed the bottom, and Boyd and O’Callaghan volunteered to hand deliver it to the White House.