Last week, Washington saw two members of Congress depart — figures most observers would argue were justifiably shown the door. Now, fresh allegations against Rep. Cory Mills (R-Fla.) have Capitol Hill bracing for another potential reckoning, with talk of expulsion circulating. None of this is surprising to anyone who has spent real time covering this city.
When the Eric Swalwell news broke, I was hardly surprised — the rape allegations were news to me, but his reputation around women was not.
In the spring of 2021, I watched him get handsy with people I know at a bar in the Northeast part of the city, and I’m aware of women he added on Snapchat and texted late at night who found his behavior unprofessionally flirtatious. Washington’s worst-kept secret isn’t any particular scandal. It’s the ecosystem that quietly enables all of them.
The Hill creates something close to a perfect storm. Much of Congress is filled with people who, frankly, weren’t the most popular kids in high school or college, who suddenly find themselves surrounded by young staffers, interns and lobbyists impressed by their power. They’re away from their families a significant chunk of the year, constantly attending events fueled by open bars, insulated by staff whose instinct is to protect their bosses at all costs. The press corps, to some extent, has to quietly do the mental math on whether any given piece of information is worth blowing up a good source relationship over or could spark legal issues, which rounds it out into a pretty ideal environment for bad behavior to go unchecked.
Some colleagues even run interference for each other. More on that shortly.
I wish I could say scandals like this shock me. They don’t, because I’ve watched these things unfold in real time.
A then-close friend — I’ll call her MK, a political fundraiser with a well-connected family and a flair for drama — came with me to a social gathering that included then-House Homeland Security Chairman Mark Green (R-Tenn.) and a handful of other lawmakers in the fall of 2023. She got heavily intoxicated. The next morning she told me she was a little embarrassed about how the night went. Green, a married congressman old enough to be her father, had been “pretty cool,” she said.
-About a week later, Green hosted a small informal party at his house between vote series — a few members, a couple of reporters, nothing out of the ordinary. Reporters grab drinks with members all the time. They’re often genuinely fun to be around, and if you cover the Hill, schmoozing is helpful in terms of getting scoops. That night, though, MK showed up and got obliterated. We’re talking trying-to-sit-on-lawmakers’-laps-and-stroke-their-arms level of obliterated. When one brushed her off, she simply moved to the next. It was a lot, and I was growing increasingly uneasy about what it might mean for my professional reputation.
At one point, she and Green were all over each other. Another congressman and I locked eyes, mutually stunned by what was happening. I tried to get MK to share an Uber home despite living completely out of the way. She refused, insisting she was getting one. I left with a lawmaker to grab a beer elsewhere, both of us questioning whether we’d made the right call by not intervening more. She was an adult and it isn’t exactly like I could carry her out of the gathering. She did not, in fact, go home that night, which I could tell due to our shared locations on our phones.
Green later told me he simply drove her home the next morning because she was too drunk to function. Make of that what you will.
Something people should also understand about certain politicians is that some of them are completely delusional and operate as though consequences are for other people. For instance, Green couldn’t bring himself to clean dog excrement off his deck because it reminded him of his mistress. He was also mapping out his path to the White House, and was writing her love letters that looked like they were crafted by a middle school boy. I know this because MK’s gay best friend was forwarding the screenshots around in group texts I was in. Green has since left Congress to pursue what one might describe as extremely questionable business ventures, for which he is currently being sued. Washington really can be an exceptionally screwed up place.
The part that had direct consequences for me came in September 2024, when Green’s wife Cammie sent a message to congressional spouses in her Bible study group announcing that her husband had filed for divorce after an affair with a 32-year-old woman who worked at Axios. She asked for prayers, blamed Satan for rewriting her marriage, and warned other wives about the “predators” readily available to their husbands. I was in my 30s. I worked at Axios. I had covered Green. Around 70 people reached out to ask me about the accusation.
It wasn’t me. I’m entirely too superficial to sleep with someone who bears an unfortunate resemblance to Jim Varney, and men on the brink of qualifying for Medicare aren’t really my type!
Then House Administration Chairman Bryan Steil (R-Wis.) got involved, which was its own special brand of audacity. A former fling from my mid-20s who later got elected to Congress — a history I disclosed to every employer I’ve ever had, always a delightful and not awkward at all conversation — pulled me aside in the Speaker’s Lobby after learning I was exploring legal options. He tried to talk me out of pursuing anything, warning it could tank my career. I asked how he even knew about the legal exchanges, and he eventually admitted he’d heard from Green’s orbit. I sat there quietly furious, smiling anyway, then went straight to my lawyer.
For a guy positioning himself as a neutral concerned party, Steil may have had his own reasons to keep things quiet. I’ve seen evidence of him sending late-night drunk texts to Cassidy Hutchinson — awkward enough that House Republicans quietly moved an investigation off his committee because of the conflict it created. Members protecting members while their own situations stay conveniently out of the headlines.
Look, most people don’t actually care about consensual affairs between adults. What the Swalwell situation and others like it should make us think harder about is the stuff with actual stakes. A lawmaker who could be compromised, blackmailed, or leveraged because of who they’re sleeping with or what they’re hiding is a national security problem, not just a tabloid one. At some point, we should probably be holding the people with actual power and access more accountable than, say, a 21-year-old White House intern.
Nobody should be judged only on their worst day, and I’m not saying people don’t deserve a chance at redemption. Not all of them are complete degenerates — the world isn’t black and white and good people are capable of bad things. But the hypocrisy has real consequences for real people.
It’s worth asking whether congressional margins should be the be-all and end-all when it comes to whether parties are willing to impose consequences on lawmakers engaging in genuine wrongdoing, particularly those who have built their entire brand on moral integrity and are quick to point fingers at the other side while claiming the high ground.
I happen to know that firsthand, given that I have dealt with real professional fallout over an affair I wasn’t having. It’s because of this unfortunate situation that I was prompted to launch my own site, where I write about the gossip and scandals of Capitol Hill, which I hope never to be erroneously involved in again!
For the record — this is the abridged version. There are additional, even more insane details on the Green saga and other sagas to which I have the receipts. Stay tuned.
