Out-Conspired: How Epstein Broke Trump’s Spell

For years, Trump thrived by feeding his supporters suspicion and spectacle. But the Epstein files revealed a paranoia even he couldn’t tame — and a mob no longer fully under his command.

For an entire decade now, Donald Trump has been immune to alienating his supporters — a base so loyal they’d drink bleach if he told them it would own the libs (and some probably did).

Stormy Daniels? A spiritual growth opportunity for evangelicals to witness a modern-day King David. Inciting a Capitol riot? Boosted his Q-rating (not to mention his QAnon rating). Bombing Iran? Sure, a few “America First” types grumbled into their microphones about endless wars before dutifully moving on.

Trump himself bragged he could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue, shoot somebody and not lose a single voter. He was right.

But the current wave of intra-MAGA criticism — over the Trump administration’s defensive insistence that Jeffrey Epstein (a) definitely committed suicide, and (b) never had a client list — feels categorically different.

Trump can usually smother an inconvenient news cycle by tossing a fresh carcass on the table, be it a deranged Truth Social post or a threat to jail an enemy.

This time, however, his suggestion that Rosie O’Donnell should have her citizenship revoked barely registered above ambient noise, as the mob kept hammering him over his refusal to release the Epstein files. His latest weapon of mass distraction is a not-so-subtle hint that he might fire Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell. But even that hasn’t managed to shift the spotlight away from Epstein.

Having failed at distraction, Trump reverted to bullying. He scolded the press for dredging up old news (“Are you still talking about Jeffrey Epstein?”). He took to Truth Social to tell his MAGA supporters not to “waste Time and Energy on Jeffrey Epstein.” He absurdly claimed the Epstein files were a “scam” and a “hoax” made up by Democrats, and described the folks who “bought into this bulls—” as “weaklings” and his “PAST supporters.”

These efforts tamed some of the criticism inside the MAGA tent. But for others, it only reinforced the perception of a cover-up.

So why has the Epstein scandal — of all things — threatened civil war on the right? I have some thoughts.

First: It speaks to where the passions of MAGA really lie. For some percentage of Trump supporters, exposing the satanic, blood-drinking pedophile cabal was supposed to be the deliverable — his raison d'être — the payoff.

Instead, they got, what, corporate tax cuts?

Second: The Epstein narrative is too lurid and concrete to be handwaved away. Epstein really was a sex trafficker. There really are those photographs of him palling around with Trump. He really was on “suicide watch.” Minutes really are missing from the surveillance video near Epstein’s cell. Atty. Gen. Pam Bondi really did say on Fox News in February that Epstein’s client list was “sitting on my desk right now.” You don’t need to be in a tin-foil hat to notice the fishiness here.

And third: The incentives have changed for MAGA influencers. Trump finally feels like a lame duck, and the knives are out, not just to inherit the throne, but for the whole spoils system of the MAGA grift.

To be clear, plenty of the usual sycophants have decided to “trust the plan” and go along with the party line. But others — Tucker Carlson, Marjorie Taylor Greene, Nick Fuentes and assorted alt-right B-listers — seem to have caught the scent of blood in the water.

Even the new cohort of MAGA-adjacent bro-podcasters — guys like Andrew Schulz — have started to openly criticize him. Schulz recently called Trump’s failure to release the Epstein files “insulting our intelligence,” which, for that demographic, is tantamount to open revolt.

Here, Trump could really face some attrition. Unlike the evangelical core, these manosphere podcasters (and their legions of young male listeners) are not partisans or ideologues; their support for Trump has always been more middle finger than mission. And middle fingers, as everyone eventually learns, can be directed at new targets anytime.

So how does this end?

Eventually, this story will be suppressed or at least professionally ignored. But it won’t be fully memory-holed. It will linger somewhere between subliminal and ubiquitous, in much the same way that George W. Bush never fully escaped the stench of those nonexistent WMDs (even after Republicans agreed to stay the course).

So Trump survives — but he carries with him a dormant virus that could flare up again.

There’s a certain irony here that’s almost too obvious to point out, except that it’s also irresistible: Trump built an entire ecology of paranoia — a system that rewards its most theatrical paranoids. He spent years feeding his ravenous base suspicion and spectacle. And it worked. Until he finally got out-conspiracy-theoried.

Even the best carnival barker runs out of new tricks eventually. And when the crowd starts peeking behind the curtain, the spell is broken, and the jig is up.

This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.