Donald Trump and his attorneys engage in so much shocking (though not surprising) behavior that it’s hard to keep up. On Thursday, Judge Reggie Walton, a federal district court judge in Washington, D.C., with no connection to the Trump cases, took the extraordinary step of appearing on CNN and blasting Trump for making “a threat” against state court Judge Juan Merchan and his family. Judge Merchan, who is presiding over the Hush Money Trial, issued a gag order that directed Trump to stop attacking witnesses, the jury, and court employees but did not cover himself and his family. When Trump spread a phony story about Merchan’s daughter that almost certainly endangered her, the prosecution moved that the gag order be extended. Trump’s lawyers said no; they would do nothing to assure the safety of the young woman.
So it goes on the 2024 campaign trail. I’m such an old goat that I’ve had a hand in covering 11 presidential campaigns— back to 1980—but never in my most fevered, ersatz Gonzo imagination did I think that instead of a seat on the press bus, I’d have a reserved seat in the criminal trial of the frontrunner, from jury selection that starts on April 15 to his likely conviction in early June.
Trump will face the music (preferably Doin’ Time by Lana Del Ray) in a dreary courtroom in the decrepit New York State Criminal Courthouse, surrounded by the cheapest worn-out wood-paneling that bureaucratic money could buy, a venue designed by New Deal Art Deco architects who would be horrified by the tacky degradations that have taken it several cuts below not just federal courts but a hall of justice in Albania. Fitting.
The first criminal trial of a president of the United States in the 236-year history of that office is on—porn star and all. What it lacks in grandeur, The People of the State of New York vs. Donald J. Trump—better known as the Trump Hush Money Trial—makes up in undeniable historical significance, whatever the outcome’s effect on women swing voters in the suburbs may be.
Trump seemed to know before the press did that his go-to jig—delay, delay, delay—is finally up, if not in the other weightier criminal cases, then at least in this one. Last Monday, my seatmate, Maggie Haberman of The New York Times, and I agreed on the one-word description of Trump’s face when he exited during the break, just three feet away from my aisle seat: haggard. He was still perfectly groomed, and the standard red tie still extended over his crotch—soon to be a subject of evidentiary dispute. But he looked beaten down in person. He’s clearly conscious that the chances are now good that he will run for president as a felon-nominee.
Forget what world-weary pundits and the he-could-shoot-someone-on-Fifth Avenue base say. This is not a good look.
Judge Merchan has already presided over two Trump-related cases in recent years. In 2022, Trump’s accountant and chief financial officer, Allen Weisselberg, pleaded guilty in Merchan’s courtroom to 15 criminal charges, including grand larceny, criminal tax fraud, and falsifying business records, the last of these the same allegation Trump faces in the upcoming Hush Money Trial. More recently, Merchan oversaw the five-week criminal trial that led to the conviction of the Trump Organization on 17 counts of tax fraud, and he is scheduled to preside over the trial of Steve Bannon for defrauding “We Build the Wall” donors. That trial will begin as soon as this case is completed.
Steely Judge Merchan is—horrors!—an immigrant. He came to New York as a child from Bogota, Columbia, won degrees from Baruch College and Hofstra University, and a toehold as a local judge thanks to former Mayor Michael Bloomberg, whose court administrators rightly saw promise in the smart, no-nonsense striver.
The trial was scheduled to start on Monday, March 25th, but was delayed by a mammoth document dump from the office of the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York (SDNY), which had investigated the hush money case but declined to prosecute Trump although it secured a guilty plea from his fixer Michael Cohen. That day, the judge had questions for both sides about those documents.
Trump’s lawyers pursued their usual maximalist strategy, which works well in rightwing politics but—as we’re seeing in this case—can boomerang in a legal setting, where insults and irresponsible charges are often harmful to those who issue them.
In the spirit of their client, the defense lawyers last week accused the District Attorney’s office of “widespread prosecutorial misconduct,” “unethical actions,” and “discovery violations meant to interfere in the 2024 election.” They sought another 90-day delay.
Seeking to inject drama, Todd Blanche, Trump’s lead attorney, opened by saying that “shortly before midnight” on Sunday, the SDNY told both parties it was granting requests to produce yet more documents.
“That’s not relevant to this hearing,” Merchan said, setting the tone early.
Merchan wanted to know about the relevance of the documents, tens of thousands of which turned out to be bank records of Cohen unrelated to this case. He grew visibly angry at the defense when he realized they were arguing that all of the documents from the Muller Russiagate investigation should be part of discovery. “That has nothing to do with the case,” he snapped.
After prosecutors said that only 300 or fewer pages of 190,000 pages of documents were related to the case, Merchan asked the defense for its estimate. When Blanche couldn’t come up with even a ballpark figure, the judge’s irritation grew.
The defense, the judge said, “went far afield” from the purpose of the hearing, adding that “there really are not sufficient questions of fact to be resolved.” He repeatedly noted that Blanche was not answering his questions.
Blanche tried to argue that the district attorney’s office had been corrupting the discovery process and colluding with the feds. After a pregnant pause, Merchan asked Blanche how long he had been an Assistant U.S. Attorney (AUSA). When an unnerved Blanche said 13 years, the judge eviscerated him.
As a former AUSA, “You know the defense has the same ability as the prosecution to obtain these documents,” Merchan scolded him from the bench. “For whatever reason, you waited until two months before trial [to raise this matter]. Why didn’t you do it in June or July? Why wouldn’t you [request more documents] at the time, knowing, 13 years in the office, how long it would take?”
To drive home the irresponsibility of the Trump charge of collusion, prosecutor Matthew Colangelo argued that the D.A. has no authority over when federal prosecutors released documents and what they contained (a position the judge endorsed) and that his team not only did nothing wrong in the discovery process, but it had also exhausted its options for more documents “short of suing the federal government.”
On top of everything else, the judge felt the Trump team had been deceptive in his courtroom. “On February 15, you argued strenuously for delay. Why didn’t you offer that [the need for more documents from SDNY] as something to argue for the delay of the trial?”
The coup de grace came over case law. Merchan was incredulous that the defense claimed prosecutors had broken the law by not obtaining (the judge’s emphasis) the records. “Where’s case law that they are to blame for not getting the documents?” he asked. “Can you give me one case in which the U.S. Attorney is under the supervision of the D.A.?”
Blanche could not.
The judge wasn’t done. “This is very disconcerting. Incredibly serious. You are literally accusing them of prosecutorial misconduct and making me complicit in it. And you don’t have a single cite!”
At that moment, I could see Trump shaking his head in dismay.
Just before the break, the judge said: “It’s odd that we’re even here.” That was the final clue that we would all be here again in three weeks when our presence would not be so odd.
After the break, the judge resolved the defense’s Passover delay gambit. Trump’s lawyers argued that the trial should be delayed at least until after Passover (April 22-23) in the interest of Jews on the defense team and in the jury pool. Merchan ruled that jury selection would be completed the week before Passover, and the trial would start after a break for the holiday. Selecting a jury in a case of this importance in a week sounds ambitious, but this judge has long since proven that he runs a tight ship.
“See you April 15th,” Judge Merchan said as court adjourned. Tax Day is about to become Opening Day for a season of at least some accountability.
