Media Frenzy Fizzles: DNI Gabbard’s Trump ‘Scandal’ Falls Apart

Paul Riverbank, 2/10/2026Hyped Trump scandal fizzles; intelligence mix-up shows media and political overreaction in Washington.

If you missed the early noise around this case, you might not realize just how fast the alleged scandal went from “blockbuster” to “never mind.” By the time The Guardian walked back its initial bombshell, the oxygen had already been sucked out of the fire. At first, reports suggested there’d been a startling phone conversation—an individual allied with Donald Trump supposedly chatting with someone tied to foreign intelligence circles. For a moment, it looked like we were heading down the well-trodden path of “collusion” fever dreams. Yet, in what is almost the hallmark of our current political moment, a correction soon followed: the call actually happened between two foreign intelligence operatives who simply discussed somebody close to Trump. A thread of intrigue still, perhaps, but hardly a fuse for scandal.

Meanwhile, inside the intelligence agencies, the bureaucracy was doing what it does best—sifting, handling, and cordoning off the questionable complaint. Acting Inspector General Tamara Johnson had already taken it up in May. Another official, Christopher Fox, would “administratively” close the matter the next month. Even then, Johnson reportedly assessed one complaint as implausible and found the other beyond her ability to credibly evaluate. These are not, even for a Washington where rumors grow wild, the qualities of an airtight case.

Predictably, all this prompted plenty of chest-thumping and finger-pointing on Capitol Hill. Senator Tom Cotton—never shy about defending security protocols—spoke for his side. “I agree with both inspectors general who have evaluated the matter: the complaint is not credible and the inspectors general and the DNI took the necessary steps,” he declared. Democratic Senator Mark Warner, the committee’s vice chair and long an intelligence hawk, was considerably less convinced. Warner questioned not just the decision-making, but the process, including whether Gabbard herself had played a role in facilitating a call between Trump and FBI agents during a raid. On CBS, Warner invoked the oldest expectation in public service: “Ignorance of the law is not an excuse if you’re the Director of National Intelligence.”

Despite the storm, Gabbard’s team held its ground. Dever, in follow-up letters, pushed back at any accusation of impropriety. He noted that given the sensitivity of the complaint, steps were taken to keep Congress in the loop—even if that looked (to critics) like a secretive game of telephone. In at least one instance, the acting inspector general had to “hand-deliver” documentation to the Gang of Eight, Washington’s most senior national security lawmakers, who weren’t allowed to jot anything down before their “read and return.” Belt-and-suspenders secrecy, but well within legal bounds.

Peeling away the layers, much of this story comes down to the way whispers get amplified in the political echo chamber. The original thrust—Trump’s inner circle consorting with foreign agents—turned out to be air. Instead, two international officials apparently talked about someone with links to Trump. Hardly the stuff of midnight cloak-and-dagger. Still, as one caustic opinion piece observed, sometimes these stories act as a kind of IQ test: “even the story pre-amendment still had way too many holes to take seriously.”

What’s left, then, when scandal fades but headlines linger? The episode reads like a commentary on the wider dysfunction in how politicians and the press treat even routine intelligence matters. Anything remotely suggestive of controversy gets a magnifying glass. Once errors are acknowledged, the volume rarely comes down.

Now, Gabbard is set to appear before the Senate Intelligence Committee. The real substance looks relatively thin, but the ordeal is yet another cautionary tale: in today’s Washington, even stray shadows—if they fall across the right players—can look gigantic.

News, especially the kind that dribbles out from the intelligence sphere, almost never lands in tidy, coherent packages. This week is no exception. The story started with a warning shot—or a cover-your-assets letter, depending on whom you ask—from Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard’s office. The target? Andrew Bakaj, a well-known attorney repping an anonymous whistleblower with claims potentially relevant to the halls of Congress. But there was a catch. Gabbard’s general counsel, Jack Dever, made it plain: Any attempt to brief lawmakers about the nitty-gritty of this client’s complaint could end in trouble, maybe even a breach of classified information restrictions. Or, as Dever tried to spell out in his own lawyerly cadence: “The highly classified nature of the complaint increases the risk…you or your client inadvertently or otherwise breaks the law.” Translation—speak up if you want, but stick to the headlines, not the details.If you missed the early noise around this case, you might not realize just how fast the alleged scandal went from “blockbuster” to “never mind.” By the time The Guardian walked back its initial bombshell, the oxygen had already been sucked out of the fire. At first, reports suggested there’d been a startling phone conversation—an individual allied with Donald Trump supposedly chatting with someone tied to foreign intelligence circles. For a moment, it looked like we were heading down the well-trodden path of “collusion” fever dreams. Yet, in what is almost the hallmark of our current political moment, a correction soon followed: the call actually happened between two foreign intelligence operatives who simply discussed somebody close to Trump. A thread of intrigue still, perhaps, but hardly a fuse for scandal.Meanwhile, inside the intelligence agencies, the bureaucracy was doing what it does best—sifting, handling, and cordoning off the questionable complaint. Acting Inspector General Tamara Johnson had already taken it up in May. Another official, Christopher Fox, would “administratively” close the matter the next month. Even then, Johnson reportedly assessed one complaint as implausible and found the other beyond her ability to credibly evaluate. These are not, even for a Washington where rumors grow wild, the qualities of an airtight case.Predictably, all this prompted plenty of chest-thumping and finger-pointing on Capitol Hill. Senator Tom Cotton—never shy about defending security protocols—spoke for his side. “I agree with both inspectors general who have evaluated the matter: the complaint is not credible and the inspectors general and the DNI took the necessary steps,” he declared. Democratic Senator Mark Warner, the committee’s vice chair and long an intelligence hawk, was considerably less convinced. Warner questioned not just the decision-making, but the process, including whether Gabbard herself had played a role in facilitating a call between Trump and FBI agents during a raid. On CBS, Warner invoked the oldest expectation in public service: “Ignorance of the law is not an excuse if you’re the Director of National Intelligence.”Despite the storm, Gabbard’s team held its ground. Dever, in follow-up letters, pushed back at any accusation of impropriety. He noted that given the sensitivity of the complaint, steps were taken to keep Congress in the loop—even if that looked (to critics) like a secretive game of telephone. In at least one instance, the acting inspector general had to “hand-deliver” documentation to the Gang of Eight, Washington’s most senior national security lawmakers, who weren’t allowed to jot anything down before their “read and return.” Belt-and-suspenders secrecy, but well within legal bounds.Peeling away the layers, much of this story comes down to the way whispers get amplified in the political echo chamber. The original thrust—Trump’s inner circle consorting with foreign agents—turned out to be air. Instead, two international officials apparently talked about someone with links to Trump. Hardly the stuff of midnight cloak-and-dagger. Still, as one caustic opinion piece observed, sometimes these stories act as a kind of IQ test: “even the story pre-amendment still had way too many holes to take seriously.”What’s left, then, when scandal fades but headlines linger? The episode reads like a commentary on the wider dysfunction in how politicians and the press treat even routine intelligence matters. Anything remotely suggestive of controversy gets a magnifying glass. Once errors are acknowledged, the volume rarely comes down.Now, Gabbard is set to appear before the Senate Intelligence Committee. The real substance looks relatively thin, but the ordeal is yet another cautionary tale: in today’s Washington, even stray shadows—if they fall across the right players—can look gigantic.