No two criminal arraignments are quite the same, as Donald Trump can now attest.
When the former US president appeared in a federal court in downtown Miami on Tuesday to answer criminal charges that he mishandled classified documents after he left office, there were many similarities to his appearance in a Manhattan court just over two months ago.
Both were historic days that came to feel almost routine as motorcades whizzed through city streets and an ex-president was whisked through backdoor courthouse entrances. Again, the domineering Trump was made a passive figure in a venue where judges and lawyers did all the talking.
Both events had stirred fears of political violence in an American city only to result in a lurid street carnival, replete with schlocky merchandise for sale, an abundance of conspiracy theories and strange MAGA bedfellows. Where else would one find members of Blacks For Trump fist-bumping a QAnon supporter while a man draped in Cuban and American flags stood nearby with a pig’s head on a wooden stake?
Still, Miami is not New York. Its Wilkie D Ferguson Jr federal courthouse was built only in 2007 and designed to resemble a cruise ship. It is a place where Trump is widely adored — not reviled. In fact, Republicans captured the wider county in November’s midterm elections for the first time in 20 years.
Unlike Trump’s first arraignment, the throngs that gathered outside the hearing on Tuesday were overwhelmingly there to embrace him. This being Miami, many were Latinos — and, like Esperanza Quanta, a Nicaraguan immigrant, they were impassioned by a hatred of socialism in the countries they or their parents had left behind. In Trump’s prosecution under a Democratic administration, they saw evidence of the same evil taking root on US soil.
“Do you know what Daniel Ortega did during the elections in Nicaragua? He jailed absolutely all the candidates,” Quanta, a placard-carrying Trump supporter, told journalists outside the courthouse on Tuesday morning, referring to the authoritarian leader. “It’s about to happen [here] if we don’t stop it.”
Maribel González, a Dominican immigrant with two daughters and a small restaurant, expressed a similar sentiment as she welcomed Trump’s motorcade on Monday afternoon. “I don’t want America to turn into Cuba, Venezuela or Nicaragua,” González pleaded. “He’s a good person. He was a good president and he loves Latinos.”
The crowd appeared far smaller than the 5,000 to 50,000 predicted a day earlier by Miami’s police chief. Still, their tenacity was impressive — particularly under the blazing sun and south Florida’s stifling June humidity.
Their numbers swelled throughout the day as Trump’s 3pm appearance approached. In April, the former president spent the night before his arraignment at his iconic Trump Tower in Manhattan. This time, he stayed at his Trump National Doral golf resort, where he huddled with lawyers.
There was a charge of excitement when a motorcade of five dark SUVs arrived at the courthouse just before 2pm. Looking on were construction workers from the skeletal upper floors of a nearby tower and gym-goers on a high-rise balcony. Then, at a few minutes past the hour, marshals announced that Trump had been booked.
Unlike most defendants, he was not photographed. That is because he is already one of the most recognisable people on the planet. In the event he were to flee, there is ample material to create a wanted poster. But he did submit to digital fingerprinting.
He spent about an hour in a 13th floor courtroom — the same one where fellow reality television star Paris Hilton once appeared — seated between his lawyers, Christopher Kise and Todd Blanche. His feathery coiffe shone golden under the glare of the recessed lighting. He did not look at his nemesis, Jack Smith, the special counsel, who was seated across the aisle behind a trio of federal prosecutors.
“Well, welcome to the southern district of Florida,” the magistrate judge, Jonathan Goodman, said amiably.
Blanche entered a “not guilty” plea on Trump’s behalf. Most of the session was taken up by debate about the terms of the former president’s release as he stared straight ahead, arms folded and appearing to scowl. He does not have to post a financial bond, surrender his passport or limit his travel. But the judge did order that he not communicate about the case with a forthcoming list of government witnesses or his co-defendant, Waltine Nauta, a US Navy veteran turned White House military valet who became an aide to the former president after he left office.
At approximately 3.25pm, Trump signed the bond. “Take your time, folks,” the easy-going Goodman urged as the document was twice returned by a bailiff, once for Trump’s initials, and then for a witness signature by his lawyer.
Then, after a brief discussion of Nauta, it was over. At about 3.45pm, the judge adjourned the hearing. Trump, wearing a customary blue suit, white shirt and red tie, rose and briefly faced the reporters in the gallery. His expression was somewhere between stern and furious. He filed past and exited by a side door.
Moments later his motorcade departed to rapturous cheers but not before an anti-Trump protester dressed in a striped inmate costume and towing a fake ball and chain threw himself in front of the former president’s car. The man, Domenic Santana, was detained by police. He had also protested Trump’s arrival at Doral the previous evening.
“He must have been a plant,” a woman carrying a Trump flag told two companions as they walked towards their cars.
On the way to the airport, Trump repaid his Latin supporters with an unannounced stop at Café Versailles, an iconic Cuban-American restaurant in the city’s Little Havana neighbourhood, where he posed for photos and embraced adoring supporters who sang “Happy Birthday”. Trump turns 77 on Wednesday.
“You see where the people are. We love the people. And you see where they are. You see the crowds,” he enthused.
Trump’s second arraignment may not be his last. Prosecutors in Georgia and Washington have been investigating his alleged attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election and his role in inciting the January 6 2021 insurrection at the US Capitol.
As Trump’s legal woes mount, erstwhile allies have been trying to perform the delicate operation of nudging him aside for the Republican party’s presidential nomination without offending his base. It is, as yet, unclear what progress — if any — they are making.
Shay Eagle, a pro-Trump video streamer from Alberta, Canada who had come to the courthouse on Tuesday described herself as “a truth-seeker”. Still, Eagle admitted she had not bothered to read the 44-page criminal indictment against the ex-president that was unsealed last week, complaining it was too long.
Nor had her fiancé, Bryan May. The two met a year ago at a gathering of American and Canadian pro-Trump truck convoys and have recently been working in south-west Florida rebuilding homes damaged by last year’s Hurricane Ian.
Both said they were open to voting for Florida’s governor, Ron DeSantis, if Trump were found guilty. But leaving him would not be easy. “He stands for us,” May explained.
Just as he did in April, an unyielding Trump was determined to have the last word. After leaving Florida he flew to New Jersey and headed for his Bedminster golf club, where supporters were waiting.
“Today we witnessed the most evil and heinous abuse of power in the history of our country,” he said as he started an address laden with mistruths. At one point he declared: “I’m not the one who thinks I’m above the law. I’m the one that followed the law. I’m the only one.”