I spent Saturday reading the 49-page indictment. It took a while because I took notes, knowing I would blog about it. Then I let it ruminate on Sunday, thinking about what stood out to me that might be in any way different from the media pundits who have analyzed it ad nauseum. That being said, as Jack Smith advised, everyone should read it.
My initial focus was on the legalese as I am kind of a geek when it comes to these things (albeit being a happily former lawyer). Yet this official court document read so smoothly you’d think it was anything but. First and best take: Jack Smith is an absolute badass mastermind. I think I might have a massive crush on his understated yet utter command of this situation—and the English language.
But, per the contents, I was initially focused on the 38 counts themselves, primarily due to folks on Twitter having a fit because the media kept reporting there were 37 counts against the disgusting one (who shall not be named herein just as he is never named in my Other Worldly novels).
And it’s true that there are only 37 counts against him, because the 38th count is solely aimed at his ignominious co-defendant, a man named Waltine Nauta (yes, that’s really his first name and makes one think of a cracker—oh, the Florida irony) who shall forever be infamous for all the reasons one would not want to be. My conclusion? What an utter idiot putz of a pathetic human being.
Then on Sunday something very striking occurred to me for my independent take on this, so more on that in a minute. First, background.
The 38th count that is solely against Nauta is “False Statements and Representations,” wherein this personal valet, this “body man” who was once a member of the US Navy—and, no, I did not and would not have had this dude on my bingo card—is accused of “did knowingly and willfully make a materially false, fictitious and fraudulent statement and representation…in a voluntary interview during a federal criminal investigation being conducted by the FBI.”
And boy howdy does the evidence blatantly and irrevocably show that Nauta did in fact do just that.
Here’s the thing. Some of the absolutely atrocious treasonous criminal activity of the fat fascist documented in this indictment is not at all surprising. Laurence Scribe said it most succinctly when he described him as a “scofflaw.”
But what Walt Nauta did appears gobsmackingly stupid any way you look at it. And what stands out is, why would he? It’s not like he was one of the many lawyers willing to commit crimes on behalf of this foul former president.
Why would this obsequious manservant repeatedly move boxes of classified documents to hide them and then flat out lie about it to the Rump’s own attorneys and ultimately to the FBI? Is he mentally challenged in some way? Seriously, it boggles the mind.
As does the reality that 80 boxes of classified documents were placed in a storage room at the Mar-A-Lago club where they could be reached from multiple outside entrances, including one accessible from the club pool patio through a doorway often kept open. Talk about breezy, casual disregard for national security.
Then there’s the chandeliered (OMG) bathroom where access to the shower, but not the toilet, was blocked by numerous boxes. You couldn’t make up stuff this asinine and insane if you were scribing an elaborate crime novel.
And there’s this little nugget: According to an employee text, the demented one referred to them as his “beautiful mind paper boxes.”
But it’s the texts themselves as shared verbatim in the indictment where things got downright titillating.
I first heard about this particular text exchange via the media prior to reading the 49 pages. Specifically a communication between Nauta and an unnamed female member of the notorious grifting family—we knew her gender because he calls her “ma’am.”
I immediately assumed it was the duplicitous vapid daughter, but I was wrong. It was FLOTUS, as in the former (fill in your favorite profane expletive here) White House occupant responsible for desecration of the rose garden.
The content of the text involved her informing her husband’s body man that they couldn’t fly his boxes on the plane to Bedminster because there was no room due to (ostensibly her) luggage. That’s a lot of boxes, and a lot of luggage. And when you read the texts, you know immediately that it’s the “I really don’t care, do you?” twit because among other things, let’s face it, English is not her language.
Herein lies the intrigue for me. The interaction between Nauta and her was cutesy. Downright cozy. It involved smiley face emoji.
On Sunday it dawned on me when I saw a news report about how Melania was supposedly most upset over the indictment (gag me with a spoon). There’s been speculation for years now that she had an affair with a Secret Service agent (see Carl Hiaasen’s Squeeze Me for a hilarious fictionalized account) that may still be ongoing.
Hence…. could it be that it’s actually Nauta she is devastated to see criminally indicted along with her husband? This would actually explain a lot about why he was so willing to do the bidding of a vile egomaniacal man who clearly used him for his own nefarious coverup.
It’d be sad if it wasn’t so revolting. Like the vacuous woman herself.