On April 13, Tulsi Gabbard released the documents. Twelve days later, someone showed up at the media's own dinner with a gun. Two attempts in the same month. Same target. Both missed.
There is a scene in Guy Ritchie's Snatch where a bloke called Boris the Blade gets shot. Then shot again. Then shot again after that.
Every time the people trying to finish him think it is done, Boris gets back up.
Eventually you stop asking questions about Boris. You start asking questions about the people who keep missing.
That is Donald Trump.
Not as a fan. As a pattern observer. Because what has been done to this man is the most complete institutional assault on a single individual in the history of modern democracy. And it has failed every single time.
Crossfire Hurricane. The FBI opened a counterintelligence operation against a presidential candidate using a dossier funded by his political opponent. Later found to be fabricated. Nobody charged. Nobody held accountable.
First impeachment. He survived.
Second impeachment. He survived.
Ninety-one criminal indictments across four jurisdictions. He ran for president from the courtroom and won by a bigger margin than the first time.
Pennsylvania, 2024. A bullet took a piece of his ear. He raised his fist before the blood dried.
A second attempt. Then a third.
Three men with guns. Zero results.
Boris the Bullet Dodger.
Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard released the documents.
Transcripts that had been locked in a safe for years. Withheld from the House Judiciary Committee during the impeachment trial. Testimony from IC Inspector General Atkinson that the people running the process did not want seen.
The allegation is this: the Obama administration did not discover a Russian interference operation. They manufactured one. The intelligence assessment that launched Russiagate, that consumed four years of American political life, that gave two impeachments their justification, was not intelligence.
It was construction. Deliberate. Coordinated. From the top.
Attorney General Pam Bondi stood up a DOJ strike force the same week. The documents are with Justice. The investigation is running.
April 25. The White House Correspondents' Dinner.
The night the journalist class gathers to give itself awards for bravery. To celebrate its own courage. To laugh at whoever they despise from the safety of a very well-catered ballroom.
A man travelled from California by train to be there. Cole Tomas Allen, 31. Arrested near the screening area. Charged with attempted assassination of a sitting president.
Not a rally. Not a golf course. The media's own party.
At the same hotel where they tried to kill Reagan in 1981.
Two attempts in the same month. One on paper. One in person. Both missed.
They built a conspiracy inside the intelligence community to destroy him before he could govern. Used it to impeach him. Indicted him four times. Sent three men with guns. And on the same April that the documents proving the conspiracy were released, a fourth man showed up with a weapon at the dinner the journalists throw for themselves.
Think about that sequence.
The institutional hit and the physical hit in the same calendar month. Gabbard drops the proof of the frame on April 13. Twelve days later, someone tries to finish it another way.
That is not coincidence. That is a pattern announcing itself.
The thing about Boris the Bullet Dodger is that everyone underestimates him because of how he looks. How he talks. They think he is a joke. They think this time will be the time.
It was never the time.
The people who spent a decade telling you this man was finished are the same people who threw the party where someone just tried to shoot him. The same media class that built the Russiagate narrative for four years. The same ABC culture that sneers at the alliance from a Sydney podcast studio. The same dinner circuit that gave itself awards for covering the story they helped manufacture.
And Boris is still standing.
In the White House. With the documents. With the DOJ. With every receipt from every shot they fired.
Turns out Boris the Bullet Dodger had a very good memory.
And the shooters were at his table the whole time.
— Rico Holt · ricoholt.com
This piece is part of the thinking behind The Feedback Trap — how institutions and the media class protect the game, punish anyone who refuses to play it, and what happens when the target turns around.
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