When Trump finally came onto the stage, from behind a curtain that rose up to reveal him, as if he were in “Chicago,” it seemed, at first, that we were meeting the new man I’d heard hinted at all week—vulnerable, misty-eyed, leading with love and gratitude. He began with a long soliloquy describing the assassination attempt, which might have been his best rally story yet. (He said he would only tell it only once, instead of adding it to the repertoire; it would be too painful to tell again.) After a while, though, he picked up essentially where he had left off, right before he was shot, at his rally in Pennsylvania. On the Convention screen behind him, Trump projected a chart tracking illegal immigration that he had been looking at when the shooting started, and launched into an hourlong speech that was nearly indistinguishable from his usual campaign fare.
Throughout the week, on the Convention floor, people held up signs that said “mass deportation now!,” a pastor prayed for protection from tyranny, and speakers railed against the “lawfare jackals” of the Democratic Party who wanted to jail them. “We’re actually going to go home and miss it,” Trump said, of the Convention. “It’s about love.” After he finished, an opera singer performed “Nessun Dorma,” the aria from Puccini’s “Turandot,” as the former President gazed out on the crowd. Thousands of balloons dropped into the arena, and attendees streamed out, balloons popping under their feet. Trump’s final imprint on the Convention was the addition of gold balloons to the traditional red, white, and blue. A delegate next to me, in Trump-brand sneakers, was ready to go. “It was great, but it was a bit long-winded,” he said. A local minister took the stage in front of the emptying room to offer a closing benediction. “Hey, time to pray!” one attendee shouted. Some stayed a minute longer, and then the staff struck the set.
