Bolling - The Swamp: Washingtons murky pool of corruption and cronyism and how Trump can drain it

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I am a Deplorable and I stand with you.

I dedicate this book to all Deplorables.

The truck drivers, the nurses, the construction laborers, the auto workers, the retail clerks, the veterans and all the rest of the great hardworking, God-loving Americans. We Deplorables have been ignored by the D.C. establishment on both sides of the aisle for decades. Now our voices will be heard and President Donald Trump will drain the Swamp for us, the Deplorables.

To my amazing family, who have always supported me and stood by me, Adrienne, Eric Chase, Tina Rosales. I am blessed and grateful to have you, I love you all very much.

To my friends Sergio Gor, Mark Fisher, Jen Starobin, Greg and Donna Mosing, your loyalty and commitment to my success has not gone unnoticed, I am deeply appreciative and thankful for all you have done for me.

To my Fox News family, including Rupert Murdoch, James Murdoch, Suzanne Scott, Dianne Brandi, Kimberly Guilfoyle, Kyle Nolan, Bob Beckel, Sean Hannity, Dana Perino, Juan Williams, and Greg Gutfeld. My entire show staff on The Five, Cashin in, and the countless producers who have made me look great throughout the years! True professionals who have not only shaped news coverage but American history.

To my phenomenal book publishing team, George Witte, Todd Seavey, Sally Richardson, Jennifer Enderlin, David Rotstein, Tracey Guest, Joe Rinaldi, Laura Clark, and Karlyn Hixson. You have all been incredibly supportive, helpful, and amazing to work with! You set the standard for excellence in your industry and beyond!

To all my loyal fans and the View Crew! You are the reason America will be GREAT again, President Trump will succeed and together we will drain the Swamp!

Integrity is the lifeblood of democracy. Deceit is a poison in its veins.

SENATOR TED KENNEDY

We dont know exactly what went through thirty-seven-year-old Senator Ted Kennedys mind the night of the Chappaquiddick crash. We can guess he was acutely aware of having a smart, athletic twenty-eight-year-old woman in the passenger seat beside him in the car. It wasnt just lust, he may have told himself. Mary Jo Kopechne was a charming rising star among his cadre of young staffers. In the prominent senators mind, it was only natural to want some time alone with her. And perhaps he assumed that she would want to spend some time with him: the scion of Americas legendary political dynasty.

He may still have been thinking happily of the party hed just left behind, where five other married men like himself were partying with five of Mary Jos young, single female friends, with alcohol flowing freely. Ted probably didnt think too much about his mother, who owned the car he was now driving, or the family chauffeur hed left back at the party.

He was a U.S. senator. He was a Kennedy. He was invincible.

He should have given more thought to the darkness and rain that July night in 1969, and to the slightly confusing layout of the road connecting the island of Chappaquiddick to Edgartown on the mainland of Massachusetts.

He stopped at the side of the road for a short time, confused by the route ahead, physically or morally. When he saw a cop approaching the car from behind, the reality of his situation may have come flooding back to him for a moment: It might look bad, a six-year senator from a powerful, high-profile family parking in the dark with a young beauty who admired liberal politicians and had worked for a few, including Teds brother Robert, assassinated just a year earlier.

But this was no time to think of death, just of getting back to Edgartown and the hotel. Ted depressed the accelerator, bungled the shift for a moment, and lurched backward toward the cop. Not good. More shifting and the car rolled forward. The cop wandered off, and Ted drove forward, his path seemingly clear for a minute.

But the bridge at Chappaquiddick met the islands shore at an odd angle. It wasnt fair, really. Had Ted done anything so wrong? Had he done anything that a man of his stature wasnt entitled to do?

The car lurched and, for a sickening moment, seemed to hang in the air, then plunged into the narrow channel between Chappaquiddick and Edgartown. So narrow. So small. Yet it would separate Ted from all his ambitions to rise to an office higher than the one he held. How wrong it seems to members of the political class that such petty inconveniences can trip them up.

The car sank into the muddy channel bottom, wheels upward. Water rushed in immediately, and Ted thought with panic about how to save himself. He managed to get out the window. He rose to the surface and floundered over to the bank of the channel, near the bridge.

Ted later testified that he sat on the bank for a while, catching his breath, then began calling for Mary Jo. He shouted her name several times, he said, and got no response. He also testified that he tried several times to swim down to the car, to no avail.

Then, he did what any responsible member of the political elite might do. He decided to go back to the partybut first sat on the bank for about fifteen minutes, wondering if there were some way to keep all this from turning into a scandal. The political elite have learned to live with a great deal of ambient immorality. Scandal, though, is something to be avoided. The public should not get too long a glimpse of what lurks below the surface of the Swamp in the world of politics.

Ted trudged back to the party cottage, neither using a nearby pay phone to call the authorities nor stopping to ask for help at any of several cottages he passed, not even the one with a light on.

Perhaps Ted was in shock from the accident. Or perhaps the specter of death had ceased to hold much fear for this latest ill-fated member of the Kennedy clan. By that night, when Ted stumbled back to the Chappaquiddick party cottage, four of his eight siblings had already met untimely ends, best known among them President John F. Kennedy and his attorney general, Robert, both taken down by assassins.

Ted was the great remaining hope of the family.

At that very same moment that Ted reentered the party cottage, his brother Johns loftiest ambition was reaching posthumous fruition as Apollo 11 made its way from Earth to the moon, having launched just two days before Teds crash. The astronauts would successfully travel 239,000 miles and back. Ted only had to navigate the length of an eighty-foot bridge at Chappaquiddick and in all likelihood he would one day have gone on to win the presidency, buoyed by the nations desire to recapture the romanticized Kennedy glory days. It was not to be.

Back inside the party cottage, where less than an hour earlier he had borrowed car keys from Crimmins, his family chauffeur, Ted was careful not to alert the others to the circumstances from which he had just dragged himself. He said later he didnt want to alarm Mary Jos friends, nicknamed the Boiler Room Girls, veterans of his brother Roberts truncated presidential campaign.

We can only speculate how they might have reacted to word of Mary Jos accident. They might well have saved her life, though. A local fire department diver, John Farrar, would later testify that Mary Jo did not appear to have been killed by the initial crash but to have been trapped in a small and slowly shrinking pocket of air inside the car. She may still have clung desperately to life, hoping for rescue, even as Ted was asking himself how best to keep the whole thing quiet.