Imagine my excitement the other night when I got advance notice about a personal appearance Oct. 3 by Rob Wittman, my U.S. House representative, only a mile or so from my house.
Could it be real? I’d heard of Wittman sightings here and there in my area for years but never had confirmed his physical existence with my own eyes. Maybe he was an AI creation, or a holographic image like Princess Leia in Star Wars. He hasn’t held an open town hall meeting for half of the nearly 20 undistinguished years he’s been in office. He meets exclusively with Republicans and carefully stage-managed groups, and his local office refuses to provide his appearance schedule. “Security reasons,” you know; someone might ask an uncomfortable question.
Erich Bridges
Strange. I had no problem contacting Abigail Spanberger when she was my House rep, before I was redistricted out of Virginia’s 7th in 2022. I met and talked to her and found her to be friendly and responsive (maybe that’s why she’s governor now). Wittman? You can’t even find him unless you’re on some approved list. Since I’m no longer Republican — having left the party more than a decade ago when it was hijacked by Trump, MAGA and hate — I’m on no such list.
So here at last was my chance! I shlepped up to the scheduled appearance at an event space in a local shopping center at 8:30 a.m., expecting to participate in a protest against Wittman and his pathetic surrender to Trumpism. Surely no one without an approved RSVP, I assumed, would get inside the event itself.
Seeing no other protesters, I leaned against a pole in the parking lot and waited. A friendly guy heading into the event space asked me if I were there for the Wittman appearance.
“Yeah,” I replied. “But I don’t have an invite.”
“I don’t, either,” he said. “But maybe we can get in.”
I followed him inside. No guards at the door; that was a good sign. We were early arrivals, but there was coffee waiting. Several campaign operatives with signup sheets and Wittman merch bustled around. The chair and treasurer of the Henrico County Republican Party introduced themselves to me with smiles and friendly chat. I smiled and chatted, too, still hardly believing I was in the belly of the beast, so to speak. No reason to be impolite. Maybe I could learn something here — like why a group I embraced for more than 30 years had gone so far to the dark side.
“Maybe I could learn something here — like why a group I embraced for more than 30 years had gone so far to the dark side.”
The room started to fill up. Nearly everyone was white, with a tiny sprinkling of Asian ethnics. A lot of older white women with bottle-blond hair sat at the tables. No Black folks in sight. Well, that’s still pretty much the ethnic composition of the Republican Party, despite its vaunted outreach to minorities before the 2024 election.
But it’s no longer the ethnic composition of Henrico County, even in the affluent Far West End, or some other vote-rich parts of the 1st District. That should worry Wittman, especially as the national head of his party spouts racist lies on a daily basis and vows to deport immigrants “poisoning the blood of our country.”
But wait: There was at least one proud ethnic in the room. An older, wiry guy strolled over to my table and introduced himself. He was Italian (second or third generation, I guessed) and joked about coming to Republican events to meet women. “They’re rich,” he said. Silly me for going the dating-site route.
He wasn’t shy about expressing his opinions about other racial or religious groups. He asked me if I knew about the bar right across the parking lot. Sure, I knew about it from my drinking days. But I admitted avoiding it — despite the cheap drinks — because of its reputation for rowdiness and fights.
“Yeah, it gets a little ‘dark’ there at night” he confided. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. “They don’t live in this area.”
Then he started complaining about Democratic Lt. Gov. Ghazala Hashmi. Why?
“She’s Muslim,” he stated. “They all hate us.”
“And then, as if emerging from a magic lamp, Rob Wittman appeared.”
All of them?
And then, as if emerging from a magic lamp, Rob Wittman appeared. In the flesh. His handler rushed around, grabbing a few people to come meet and greet. I was near the front, so the handler urged me to get in line.
At last! Here was my chance to question the guy who claims to represent me in Congress. Of the many questions I had, which would I ask?
Maybe: “Why do you pretend to be a moderate, Rob, while constantly kowtowing to a president who acts like a fascist dictator?” Or: “Why did you vote for the One Big Ugly Bill, kicking hundreds of thousands of Virginians off their health care and putting rural Virginia hospitals at risk of closure?” Or: “Why did you let Elon Musk, DOGE and Russ Vought mindlessly eliminate the civil-service jobs of tens of thousands of Virginians?” Or: “Why, as vice chairman of the powerful House Armed Services Committee, are you allowing clearly psychotic ‘Secretary of War’ Pete Hegseth to run the Pentagon like Dr. Strangelove, endanger national security and gut the military, Virginia’s most important employer?”
Rob Wittman (left) with Erich Bridges (center) and a woman concerned about litter boxes for children in public elementary schools (Photo via Wittman campaign social media)
I greeted Wittman and introduced myself. I decided to go with the military query. But then, like Ralphie finally meeting department-store Santa after waiting for hours in A Christmas Story, I hesitated a moment too long.
And that’s when a short woman with a crazed look in her eye moved in diagonally, grasping Wittman’s hand. “We’ve got a big problem in Henrico elementary schools!” she declared urgently: Kids are identifying and dressing as cats, and school administrators – no doubt far-left socialists – are putting out kitty litter boxes for them!
What the hell? Turns out this bonkers conspiracy theory, I learned later, has been floating around the country at least since 2022. It’s a subset of the “furry community” conspiracy recently spewed on the floor of the U.S. Senate by Wittman’s Republican colleague, Tommy Tuberville, the dumbest demagogue in Congress.
Wittman obviously knew as well as I did that the woman’s ravings were wacko, but he didn’t bat an eyelash. He assured her he would get his team right on it and contact the school board.
I stood there in semi-shock. Others were waiting their turn, so I told him I would ask a question later if there was a group Q-and-A time. There wasn’t. In other words, I blew it.
The rest of the event unfolded as you would expect. Former Republican Gov. Glenn Younkin — he of the sweater vest, $400 million personal fortune, Trumpian rhetoric and (so far) failed presidential ambitions — threw some red meat to the crowd while introducing Wittman. Wittman’s Democratic opponent, Shannon Taylor, did nothing but protect criminals as Henrico’s top prosecutor, Youngkin charged. The Democrats, who for some unknown reason swept last year’s state elections despite their evil intentions, had resumed their nefarious efforts to destroy the commonwealth. Etc., etc.
Wittman said much the same, with less enthusiasm and a few nods toward local infrastructure projects he was sponsoring to bring home the bacon.
Despite the exclusively Republican crowd, neither mentioned the name Trump or his ongoing social and economic devastation of the country. But they both acknowledged how tight the 1st District House campaign is. In a formerly safe Republican district, it’s a bellwether race that will help determine whether the midterms bring a blue wave to the nation. Youngkin even mentioned the Washington Post/Shar School poll released Oct. 1 showing Taylor leading Wittman by 4 points. Call 10 people every night, he appealed to the faithful. Put a Wittman sign in every yard!
And that was it. They left for the next event.
If I weren’t so angry, I would cry for my former political tribe. This is now the grassroots, rank-and file Republican Party, even in a nominally moderate state like Virginia. The party of Lincoln, Eisenhower and Reagan, the party I once saw as a beacon of global freedom, casually traffics in racism, bigotry, lies and conspiracy theories in an increasingly desperate effort to stay in power.
At least I confirmed Rob Wittman is a real person. And despite his banal “moderation” and bland smile, he is every bit as responsible as Trump for the terrible trajectory of our nation — because he is doing nothing to resist it.
May Nov. 3 mark the end of his lowkey disaster of a political career.
Erich Bridges, a Baptist journalist for more than 40 years, has covered international stories and trends in many countries. He lives in Richmond, Va.
Related:
It’s time to name and prosecute Trump’s minions | Opinion by Mark Wingfield
A sober analysis of the 2026 midterms | Analysis by David Gushee
Whatever happened to fiscal conservatism? | Analysis by Rodney Kennedy