- By Adam Davidson,
On May
 1, 2003, the day President George W. Bush landed on the U.S.S. Abraham 
Lincoln in front of the massive “Mission Accomplished” sign, I was in 
Baghdad performing what had become a daily ritual. I went to a gate on 
the side of the Republican Palace, in the Green Zone, where an American 
soldier was receiving, one by one, a long line of Iraqis who came with 
questions and complaints. I remember a man complaining that his house 
had been run over by a tank. There was a woman who had been a government
 employee and wanted to know about her salary. The soldier had a form he
 was supposed to fill out with each person’s request and that person’s 
contact information. I stood there as the man talked to each person and,
 each time, said, “Phone number?” And each person would answer some 
version of “The phone system of Iraq has been destroyed and doesn’t 
work.” Then the soldier would turn to the next person, write down the 
person’s question or complaint, and then ask, “Phone number?”
I
 arrived in Baghdad on April 12th of that year, a few days after 
Saddam’s statue at Firdos Square had been destroyed. There were a couple
 of weeks of uncertainty as reporters and Iraqis tried to gauge who was 
in charge of the country and what the general plan was. There was no 
electricity, no police, no phones, no courts, no schools. More than half
 of Iraqis worked for the government, and there was
 no government, no Army, and so no salaries for most of the country. At 
first, it seemed possible that the Americans simply needed a bit of time
 to communicate the new rules. By the end of April, though, it was 
clear: there was no plan, no new order. Iraq was anarchic.
We
 journalists were able to use generators and satellite dishes to access 
outside information, and what we saw was absurd. Americans seemed 
convinced things were going well in Iraq. The war—and the President who 
launched it—were seen favorably by seventy per cent of Americans. Then 
came these pictures of a President touting “Mission Accomplished”—the 
choice of words that President Trump used in a tweet
 on Saturday, the morning after he ordered an air strike on Syria. On 
the ground, we were not prophets or political geniuses. We were sentient
 adults who were able to see the clear, obvious truth in front of us. 
The path of Iraq would be decided by those who thrived in chaos.
I
 had a similar feeling in December, 2007. I came late to the financial 
crisis. I had spent much of 2006 and 2007 naïvely swatting away warnings
 from my friends and sources who told me of impending disaster. Finally,
 I decided to take a deep look at collateralized debt obligations, or 
C.D.O.s, those financial instruments that would soon be known as toxic 
assets. I read technical books, talked to countless experts, and soon 
learned that these were, in Warren Buffett’s famous phrase, weapons of 
financial mass destruction. They were engineered in such a way that they
 could exponentially increase profits but would, also, exponentially 
increase losses. Worse, they were too complex to be fully understood. It
 was impossible, even with all the information, to figure out what they 
were worth once they began to fail. Because these C.D.O.s had come to 
form the core value of most major banks’ assets, no major bank had clear
 value. With that understanding, the path was clear. Eventually, people 
would realize that the essential structure of our financial system was 
about to implode. Yet many political figures and TV pundits were happily
 touting the end of a crisis. (Larry Kudlow, now Trump’s chief economic 
adviser, led the charge of ignorance.)
In
 Iraq and with the financial crisis, it was helpful, as a reporter, to 
be able to divide the world into those who actually understand what was 
happening and those who said hopeful nonsense. The path of both crises 
turned out to be far worse than I had imagined.
I 
thought of those earlier experiences this week as I began to feel a 
familiar clarity about what will unfold next in the Trump Presidency. 
There are lots of details and surprises to come, but the endgame of this
 Presidency seems as clear now as those of Iraq and the financial crisis
 did months before they unfolded. Last week, federal investigators raided the offices of Michael Cohen,
 the man who has been closer than anybody to Trump’s most problematic 
business and personal relationships. This week, we learned that Cohen 
has been under criminal investigation for months—his e-mails have been 
read, presumably his phones have been tapped, and his meetings have been
 monitored. Trump has long declared a red line: Robert Mueller must not 
investigate his businesses, and must only look at any possible collusion
 with Russia. That red line is now crossed and, for Trump, in the most 
troubling of ways. Even if he were to fire Deputy Attorney General Rod 
Rosenstein and then have Mueller and his investigation put on ice, and 
even if—as is disturbingly possible—Congress did nothing, the Cohen 
prosecution would continue. Even if Trump pardons Cohen, the information
 the Feds have on him can become the basis for charges against others in
 the Trump Organization.
This is the week we know, with increasing certainty, that we are entering the last
 phase of the Trump Presidency. This doesn’t feel like a prophecy; it 
feels like a simple statement of the apparent truth. I know dozens of 
reporters and other investigators who have studied Donald Trump and his 
business and political ties. Some have been skeptical of the idea that 
President Trump himself knowingly colluded with Russian officials. It 
seems not at all Trumpian to participate in a complex plan with a 
long-term, uncertain payoff. Collusion is an imprecise word, but it does
 seem close to certain that his son Donald, Jr., and several people who 
worked for him colluded with people close to the Kremlin;
 it is up to prosecutors and then the courts to figure out if this was 
illegal or merely deceitful. We may have a hard time finding out what 
President Trump himself knew and approved.
However,
 I am unaware of anybody who has taken a serious look at Trump’s 
business who doesn’t believe that there is a high likelihood of rampant 
criminality. In Azerbaijan, he did business with a likely money launderer for Iran’s Revolutionary Guard. In the Republic of Georgia, he partnered with a group that was being investigated
 for a possible role in the largest known bank-fraud and 
money-laundering case in history. In Indonesia, his development partner 
is “knee-deep in dirty politics”; there are criminal investigations of his deals in Brazil; the F.B.I. is reportedly looking
 into his daughter Ivanka’s role in the Trump hotel in Vancouver, for 
which she worked with a Malaysian family that has admitted to financial 
fraud. Back home, Donald, Jr., and Ivanka were investigated for 
financial crimes associated with the Trump hotel in SoHo—an 
investigation that was halted suspiciously. His Taj Mahal casino received what was then the largest fine in history for money-laundering violations.
Listing
 all the financial misconduct can be overwhelming and tedious. I have 
limited myself to some of the deals over the past decade, thus ignoring 
Trump’s long history of links to New York Mafia figures and other 
financial irregularities. It has become commonplace to say that enough 
was known about Trump’s shady business before he was elected; his 
followers voted for him precisely because they liked that he was someone
 willing to do whatever it takes to succeed, and they also believe that 
all rich businesspeople have to do shady things from time to time. In 
this way of thinking, any new information about his corrupt past has no 
political salience. Those who hate Trump already think he’s a crook; 
those who love him don’t care.
I believe this 
assessment is wrong. Sure, many people have a vague sense of Trump’s 
shadiness, but once the full details are better known and digested, a 
fundamentally different narrative about Trump will become commonplace. 
Remember: we knew a lot about problems in Iraq in May, 2003. Americans 
saw TV footage of looting and heard reports of U.S. forces struggling to
 gain control of the entire country. We had plenty of reporting, 
throughout 2007, about various minor financial problems. Somehow, 
though, these specific details failed to impress upon most Americans the
 over-all picture. It took a long time for the nation to accept that 
these were not minor aberrations but, rather, signs of fundamental 
crisis. Sadly, things had to get much worse before Americans came to see
 that our occupation of Iraq was disastrous and, a few years later, that
 our financial system was in tatters.
The 
narrative that will become widely understood is that Donald Trump did 
not sit atop a global empire. He was not an intuitive genius and tough 
guy who created billions of dollars of wealth through fearlessness. He 
had a small, sad global operation, mostly run by his two oldest children
 and Michael Cohen, a lousy lawyer who barely keeps up the pretenses of lawyering and who now faces an avalanche of charges, from taxicab-backed bank fraud to money laundering and campaign-finance violations.
Cohen,
 Donald, Jr., and Ivanka monetized their willingness to sign contracts 
with people rejected by all sensible partners. Even in this, the Trump 
Organization left money on the table, taking a million dollars here, 
five million there, even though the service they provided—giving 
branding legitimacy to blatantly sketchy projects—was worth far more. It
 was not a company that built value over decades, accumulating assets 
and leveraging wealth. It burned through whatever good will and brand 
value it established as quickly as possible, then moved on to the next 
scheme.
There are important legal questions that 
remain. How much did Donald Trump and his children know about the 
criminality of their partners? How explicit were they in agreeing to put
 a shiny gold brand on top of corrupt deals? The answers to these 
questions will play a role in determining whether they go to jail and, 
if so, for how long.
There is no longer one major 
investigation into Donald Trump, focussed solely on collusion with 
Russia. There are now at least two, including a thorough review of 
Cohen’s correspondence. The information in his office and hotel room 
will likely make clear precisely how much the Trump family knew. What we
 already know is disturbing, and it is hard to imagine that the 
information prosecutors will soon learn will do anything but worsen the 
picture.
Of course Trump is raging and furious and
 terrified. Prosecutors are now looking at his core. Cohen was the key 
intermediary between the Trump family and its
 partners around the world; he was chief consigliere and dealmaker 
throughout its period of expansion into global partnerships with sketchy
 oligarchs. He wasn’t a slick politico who showed up for a few months. 
He knows everything, he recorded much of it, and now prosecutors will 
know it, too. It seems inevitable that much will be made public. We 
don’t know when. We don’t know the precise path the next few months will
 take. There will be resistance and denial and counterattacks. But it 
seems likely that, when we look back on this week, we will see it as a 
turning point. We are now in the end stages of the Trump Presidency.
 
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