Donald Trump in Pittsburg

Manchester, New Hampshire, January 2016, the primaries, and I was walking past the Radisson to the hole-in-the-wall coffee joint with only one person in the queue (it was Bill Kristol; for years I’d dreamt of taunting him about imposing Sarah Palin on the Republicans. What I did was pass him the Splenda, and say “here for the Bernie rally, Bill?” and we laughed like old mates).

Passed a tall, big-jawed mookish guy, stars ‘n’ stripes tie, Trump button, on a phone in a doorway, smoking a cigar at 8.30 in the morning. Two greasers drove by slow.

“Hey, Hillary! F-k that c-t! Who’d vote for that c-t!”

This guy was clearly a Trump op. He’d hose that down.

“RIGHT ONNN! GUYS,” the man yelled, never losing control of the ‘gar.

January, as I say, and we hadn’t got the settings right, yet. Was that my first (and only), encounter with Paul Manafort, the shadow operative and former Trump campaign manager, who has now inched The Donald’s administration closer to its fall? Or am I projecting him back into the snows of January?

Whatever the case, Manafort may have really taken the Trump administration’s perpetual crisis to a new pitch these past days. Innocent until proven otherwise, but the professional political operative — his best-paying clients are pro-Russian forces in Ukraine — has been accused of witness tampering in the ongoing Mueller investigation into Russian influence on the Trump campaign.

Manafort is currently under supervised release, Alabama Rolex (ankle alarm) and all, having been indicted for a slew of charges, from failing to register as a foreign agent, to money laundering and tax evasion. Now he is accused of having contacted witnesses via an “encraption” (off-the-shelf encryption) program, the messages intercepted by an FBI agent named — what else? — Brock Domin, the intended recipients former colleagues called — what else? — “The Hapsburg Group”.

The message concerned The Hapsburg Group’s work in Ukraine, with the strong suggestion — if they prove to be genuine — that Manafort was starting to lean on former associates about their past activities. If so, it’s a sign that the next stage of this process is well underway, and that, unsurprisingly, people are starting to look for deals. The moment when the genuine, actual, honest-to-God smoking gun appears — an email offering influence for financial favours, a lessening of the Trump organisation’s enormous debts — is getting closer.

Though centrist Democrats are focusing on the relatively minor Kremlin finagling on Facebook and elsewhere, overwhelmingly to discredit the Democrat and extra-Democrat left in the wake of the Bernie Sanders wave, the real scandal is elsewhere. For years, Trump, locked out of US and European financing, has been going to lenders of last resort: Russian banks, then Georgian banks, then Azerbaijaini banks, and so on. What’s required is clear evidence that his tilt for the presidency was at least partly a way of getting out of a tightening man-trap (and Caucasus banks? These guys do not muck around. Man-traps are a literal thing for them).

Hence the spectacle of the President of the United States openly musing as to whether he could pardon himself, and finding the answer was yes (“the finest minds, the most beautiful legal minds …”). It’s worth a recap: the President says he can pardon himself, his lawyer-consigliere has had his office raided over secret payoffs to a porn star, his former campaign manager has been indicted, and may well be afresh for perversion of justice, and the inquiry is spreading in all directions.

Around this time in the Obama era, the man was slated as un-presidential for wearing a tan suit to a press conference.

What we’ll end up with is a picture of the Trump presidency as the most extraordinary hail-Mary pass of a beleaguered businessman, one that came good: solve the problems of law by becoming it. It will be gobsmacking, when it is all put together, a proof that conspiracy and secrecy always lay at the heart of the federal system that the founders put together in the late 1780s.

In January 2024, in the snows of New Hampshire, as the second Trump presidency draws to its close.