"Being Jack Smith"

A hearing that proved nothing to believers, everything to skeptics, and once again exposed how politics turns accountability into theater and truth into collateral damage.

I know exactly what it feels like to be Jack Smith sitting in that chair, staring down the House Judiciary Committee like it’s open season and you’re the only deer left in the forest.

I’ve been there. Seven times. Sixty-three hours. Thousands of questions hurled at me like darts, except the dartboard was my face, my integrity, and whatever dignity I had left after the third hour. Half the members were there to flay me alive for sport. The other half acted like I was being inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Each member got five minutes. Five minutes sounds harmless; until you’re the one trapped in the chair, the clock slows to a crawl, and every second feels like it’s been sponsored by purgatory.

So when I watched Jack Smith testify, I didn’t see some mythical “Deep State assassin.” I saw a guy doing what I did: answering questions in a forum that has absolutely nothing to do with justice and everything to do with performance art.

Let’s get one thing straight, because Congress seems to forget this every time cameras turn on. A congressional hearing is not supposed to be a boxing match. It’s not WrestleMania. It’s not a UFC cage fight where the winner struts out flexing for cable news. The point, at least on paper, is to inform the American people. Facts. Information. Illumination. No winners. No losers.

But this is politics, Trump-style. And Trump-style politics means every hearing ends like Rocky in 1976: both sides battered, sweaty, convinced they’ve won, arms raised, and Michael Buffer screaming, “Let’s go to the judges’ scorecards!”

And of course, Rocky didn’t end there. It spawned Rocky II, where half the country swore, hand to God, that Rocky actually won the first fight. Sound familiar?

Because that’s exactly what happened here. No one walked away from the Jack Smith hearing with their mind changed. Not a single soul. This wasn’t persuasion; it was confirmation bias with better lighting.

For Trump’s supporters, Jack Smith remains a traitor. A villain. Someone to be heckled at airports and blamed for every bad thing that’s ever happened to their guy, including bad hair days and indictments with inconvenient facts attached. I know this feeling all too well. I live it daily. Once you’re cast as the villain in Trump World, redemption is not part of the script.

For everyone else, Smith emerged exactly as they already believed he was: a straight-backed, law-following prosecutor who did his job, took his arrows, and proved; without theatrics, that Donald Trump is lawless. Same fight. Same punches. Two completely different scorecards.

Democrats left the hearing “thrilled and frankly stunned” that Republicans even allowed it to happen. Ted Lieu practically looked like he’d been handed a winning powerball lottery ticket. Nadler praised Smith. Swalwell said the hearing reminded people “this could happen again.” Zoe Lofgren suggested Republicans were probably regretting their decision.

And she wasn’t wrong.

Because while Republicans were busy trying to prove Jack Smith was secretly taking marching orders from Joe Biden and Merrick Garland; claims Smith repeatedly and forcefully denied, Donald Trump was doing what Donald Trump always does: loudly committing the exact offense they claim doesn’t exist.

While Smith testified, Trump hopped onto Truth Social and publicly mused about prosecuting him. Afterward, Trump escalated, accusing Smith of “large scale perjury” and suggesting Pam Bondi should “look at what he’s done.”

Nothing screams “this is a witch hunt” quite like the President of the United States threatening the prosecutor who investigated him… in real time… during sworn testimony. If irony were currency, we’d have paid off the national debt by lunchtime.

Smith, to his credit, didn’t take the bait. When asked whether Trump’s DOJ would try to indict him, Smith calmly replied that they would “do everything in their power” because they’d been ordered to by the president. No fireworks. No soliloquies. Just a flat, chilling description of how authoritarianism actually works.

Republicans, of course, declared victory anyway. Kevin Kiley was “surprised” Smith couldn’t list something, anything, he would have done differently. Troy Nehls announced, with the confidence of a man who just flipped over a Monopoly board, “We exposed a rat today.” Jim Jordan said the hearing went “very well,” which in Jordan-speak means the microphones stayed on and no one tackled him.

Jordan’s strategy was especially revealing. He fixated on Cassidy Hutchinson and a $20,000 payment to a confidential source, apparently believing that if he could discredit one witness or one invoice, the entire case against Trump would collapse like a cheap lawn chair.

Smith calmly explained that Hutchinson’s testimony played little, if any, role in his charging decisions. As for the $20,000? It paid a source to review Jan. 6 video evidence. When Jordan demanded to know who the source was, Smith replied, “I do not know the identity of the source.”

That was the bombshell. Cue gasps. Roll the credits.

One of the clearest tells about who actually benefited from the hearing came at the end, when Jamie Raskin announced Democrats intend to bring Smith back if Judge Aileen Cannon lifts her gag order on the Mar-a-Lago documents case.

Jordan’s response? “Wow. Ok. We’ll see, we’ll see.”

That’s not the sound of victory. That’s the sound of someone realizing there’s a sequel coming; and they’re not going to be the hero in it.

Jack Smith didn’t win over Trump’s base. Neither did I when I testified. That’s not how these fights end. But he did something far more dangerous: he stood there, unflinching, and reminded the country that January 6 didn’t happen by accident. That Donald Trump didn’t wander into it. He caused it. He exploited it.

And just like Rocky, everyone walked out convinced their guy won.

The difference is this: in politics, unlike movies, the truth doesn’t need a rematch. It just needs time.

____________________________________________________________________________

I REMAIN UNDER ATTACK BASED OFF OF LIES. STAND WITH ME…

HELP ME TO CONTINUE TO GROW OUR COMMUNITY.

AND, PLEASE SUPPORT INDEPENDENT JOURNALISTS…

SUBSCRIBE. READ. LIKE. RESTACK.

Yeah, I know; you’re tired. This shit is exhausting.

Guess what? Me too.

But I’ve spent the last 8 years throwing punches in the dark so truth could get a little daylight. And now I’m asking you to step into the ring with me.

Because if you’re still reading this, you already get it:
This isn’t just a newsletter. It’s a rally cry. A war drum. A line in the sand.

We are not passive observers of the downfall. We are the resistance. We call out the liars. We drag corruption by the collar into the sunlight. We say the quiet parts out loud; and we don’t flinch.

But here’s the truth: I can’t do this solo. Not anymore.

The storm is already here. We are standing in it. And it’s wearing stars and stripes like camouflage, preaching “freedom” while it sells fascism at retail.

So let me ask you:
Are. You. In?

Because this is not a scroll-and-forget read. This is a living, breathing, fire-breathing movement; and movements don’t move unless you do.

We need to be louder than spin, tougher than propaganda, and impossible to gaslight.
That takes more than clicks. More than likes.
It takes skin in the game.

So if you believe truth matters; if you’re sick of the bullshit, if you’re ready to stop screaming into the algorithm and start pushing back with purpose, this is your next step.

HERE’S HOW YOU PUT YOUR FOOT ON THE GAS:

• Become a paid subscriber. Fund fearless, unfiltered journalism that hits back.

• Share this with the loudest people you know; the ones who never sit down and shut up.

• Build the community. Amplify the message. Be the damn megaphone.

And yeah; Founding Members? The first 240 of you will get a signed, numbered, limited-edition Substack version of Revenge. That’s not just a collector’s item. That’s receipts. Proof you didn’t sit this one out.

But let’s be clear:

This isn’t about a book.
It’s about backbone.
It’s about calling out the gaslighters and refusing to be played.
It’s about locking arms and saying, “Not. On. Our. Watch.”

You want to make a difference?

Then make it; right now.

Because if we don’t fight for truth, no one will.
But if we fight together?

They can’t drown us out.

Let’s be so loud, they wish we were just angry tweets.
Let’s be unshakable.
Unignorable.
Un-fucking-breakable.

Let’s go!