Two weeks ago, shortly after the media took notice of former President Donald Trump’s lack of familial or other support at his ongoing criminal trial, his son Eric first came to New York to observe the proceedings. Since then, the courtroom has transformed into a “Who’s Who of ‘Who’s That?’” — a veritable parade of familiar-looking faces whose names might be only dimly recalled, even by the GOP faithful.
Those Trump has publicly acknowledged as his ‘surrogates’ have assumed a more insidious — and even potentially unlawful — role.
At least judging by appearances, Trump world has adopted a new mantra: If the court keeps the candidate from campaigning, the candidate will bring the campaign to the court. That’s likely why, over the last several trial days, Trump’s rotating tableau of supporters has included Sens. J.D. Vance and Tommy Tuberville; Reps. Byron Donalds, Nicole Malliotakis, Matt Gaetz and Lauren Boebert; state attorneys general Brenna Bird (Iowa) and Steve Marshall (Alabama); and even former GOP presidential rival Vivek Ramaswamy.
But they aren’t just “standing back and standing by,” as Gaetz proclaimed, calling back to Trump’s infamous shoutout to the Proud Boys. Instead, those whom Trump has publicly acknowledged as his “surrogates” have assumed a more insidious — and even potentially unlawful — role, even if Trump lawyer Todd Blanche has maintained in court they are simply “members of the public” outside of his control.
To be fair, I don’t doubt that Blanche (or any other member of Trump’s legal team) lacks control over his client’s surrogates. But I’ve also been at the trial every day, either in the courtroom or in the overflow courtroom, and the suggestion that Trump’s surrogates are merely “members of the public,” given the observable circumstances of their visits, can and should be punctured.
First and foremost, consider how the surrogates get to the courthouse and into the courtroom. Journalists, New York lawyers and actual members of the public who want to attend the trial line up, depending on their credentials, as early as dinnertime the night before each trial day. I have met retirees, students and even tourists who say they arrived at 2 or 3 in the morning and still weren’t early enough to get a seat in the overflow courtroom where I and other press often sit.
The suggestion that Trump’s surrogates are merely ‘members of the public,’ given the observable circumstances of their visits, can and should be punctured.
These members of the public — press included — go through two security screenings: one on the ground floor and another on the 15th floor, that between them feature two metal detectors, an X-ray machine and a manual bag search. We are seated an hour before Trump arrives and we wait, confined to both courtrooms whenever he is moving or is expected.
Trump’s surrogates, by contrast, appear to travel to court with him, some in his motorcade from Trump Tower, and enter the courthouse through a nonpublic entrance on an otherwise-closed street. From there, they take elevators that are unavailable to the public to reach the 15th-floor courtroom that’s been repurposed as a holding room for the former president, his lawyers and others in his traveling party. (It’s when they emerge from that holding room, somewhere beyond doors of darkened glass, that Trump conducts his precourt press availability each day, flanked by Blanche and with his surrogates arrayed behind him like a class of White House interns.) Finally, this crew enters Judge Juan Merchan’s courtroom behind Trump and his lawyers, filing into the 16 seats reserved for the former president’s designees in the first two rows of the gallery. Nothing about how they arrive or where they sit resembles the public’s experience.
Second, the conduct of Trump’s surrogates within the courtroom is a far cry from how members of the public are expected to behave. While we are in the courtroom, the public is forbidden from using smartphones, even for note-taking, at the risk of ejection. Nor can the public take any pictures anywhere in the courthouse. Two members of the press were permanently ejected weeks ago for daring to take so much as a joking selfie. We are banned from congregating in the hallways to confer with colleagues or even to eat.
Meanwhile, I’ve witnessed Trump surrogates with their heads buried in their phones, sometimes tweeting about witness testimony. Is that a big deal? After all, the press too can tweet or live-blog; we just have to rely on our laptops. But consider why we can’t have phones: We, presumably, pose a risk to the former president’s security, to the administration of justice, or both. Trump’s surrogates flaunt their phone use because they’re not considered a risk, even if their tweets would violate Trump’s gag order, could the DA show they were issued at Trump’s direction. And make no mistake: being “able to go out and overcome this gag order” is, as Tuberville admitted on Newsmax, one of the reasons the surrogates are attending the trial in the first place. Third and finally, the collective presence of Trump’s surrogates — and the placement of their seats within the courtroom — might be intended to achieve something no member of the public could manage from several rows back: witness intimidation. For their privacy and security, the prosecution’s witnesses do not arrive through public entrances. Rather, they enter the courthouse through the DA’s office, which adjoins the courthouse, and they enter the courtroom itself through a side door, trailed by court security officers and their own counsel. But using the side entrance comes at a price: Each witness must walk directly in front of Trump’s first row of supporters while making his or her way to the witness stand. For Michael Cohen, that meant passing in front of his former colleague Eric Trump and his wife, now-RNC co-chair Lara Trump; Cohen’s successor-of-sorts, Alina Habba; and others, like Rep. Ralph Norman, who has been calling Cohen a “con man” since 2019. The bottom line? Witnessed firsthand, it’s hard to believe Trump’s surrogate operation is anything other than what it sounds like: a coordinated effort between and among Trump and his allies, not some disparate, coincidental gathering of “members of the public.” No member of the public would have the access they’ve had — or been allowed the latitude they’ve enjoyed.
Lisa Rubin is MS NOW's senior legal reporter and a former litigator.
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