The author begins by evoking nostalgia for a time when figures like Dan Rather commanded trust as network news anchors—until a high-profile misstep in 2004 destroyed his credibility. In that case, Rather’s team aired documents alleging political favoritism for George W. Bush in the Texas Air National Guard, only to be undermined by the obvious anachronism that the documents were typed in Microsoft Word (which didn’t exist in that era). The story serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of pushing sensational claims without rigorous fact checking.
Fast forward to 2025, and the author argues that Governor Gavin Newsom’s communications director appears to have repeated that same mistake. After a fire broke out at the beach home of Judge Diane Goodstein (who had previously issued rulings against Trump administration actions), Newsom’s aides rushed to assign political motives. They portrayed the fire as a retaliatory act—“blaming” the Department of Justice or Trump’s DOJ for targeting the judge. One social media post read: “A few weeks ago, one of Trump’s top DOJ officials publicly targeted this judge. Today, the judge’s home is on fire.” The implication: political violence.
But as investigators later reported, there is no evidence suggesting the blaze was intentionally set (i.e. no proof of arson). Law enforcement in South Carolina said the cause remains undetermined, and nothing supports a concluded link to political actors or DOJ involvement. The article draws attention to this discrepancy—between eager blame and the lack of forensic confirmation.
The author uses this episode to underscore how the cycle of outrage and amplification works in modern media. In a hyperpolarized political climate, an incendiary framing—especially one amplified by sympathetic media voices—can spread rapidly. The narrative transforms what might be a tragic accident into a conspiracy story, reinforcing preexisting beliefs rather than encouraging skepticism or inquiry.
Moreover, the author suggests that this kind of performance is part of a larger political strategy: to control the media narrative, stoke fear or anger among supporters, and position one’s side as the righteous underdog. In effect, mobilizing outrage becomes a tool in itself. The piece closes with a rhetorical flourish: projecting that Newsom or his aides might follow up with a dramatic social media post, full of capital letters and moral indignation—mirroring the style of the very figures they criticize.
The author’s tone is sardonic and skeptical: he gives the benefit of the doubt neither to the communications team’s haste nor to the implied political narrative. He frames the affair as a modern echo of Rather’s downfall—an example of how eagerness to tell a politically satisfying story can outrun the facts. Ultimately, the piece is a warning: in contemporary politics, accusations of violence or sabotage can be weaponized quickly—and when proof falls short, the damage may already have been done.