Three days ago, I was introduced to a man claiming to be U.S. President Rudolfo “Rudy” Ruiz, who was killed in a plane crash on July 4th. In exchange for this exclusive scoop — what my source called “the biggest story in human history” — I was provided with what my source asserted was documentation confirming the “President’s” identity, and was asked to keep our meeting under wraps until 11 a.m. this Sunday, July 30th.

I have obviously decided to run with this story — or more likely, this stunt — well before the weekend. This is a career first for me. I have never burned a source, deliberately broken an embargo, or reneged on an even tentative agreement with a source, but I can’t see a way around it here that also maintains my professional integrity. I have protected plenty of sources whose politics I found repulsive, and withheld information about acts I found shocking or even knew to be criminal in the service of uncovering greater truths. But I refuse to be used as an outright pawn or patsy.

Public interest in presidential autopsies has seen a resurgence thanks to the multitude of conspiracy theories surrounding the death of President Donald Trump from COVID complications in 2020. Prior to that, you might have very occasionally encountered the odd Kennedy-obsessive opining on the lesser-populated corners of the internet about bullet trajectories and second gunmen. But the QAnon/LibertyNow!/anti-vaccine movements turned thousands into wannabe-pathologists, so much so that there’s reportedly an unofficial squad of federal employees whose job it is to identify and scrape doctored reports from online forums and the like.

All to say: no one needed a crystal ball to predict that it would be a real scrum when the Ruiz presidential autopsy was released, but I don’t think anyone expected the White House and the Congressional Commission on the Events of July 4, 2023 — colloquially, the “Ruiz Commission” — to distribute the preliminary findings from the “black box” flight data recorder and the Ruiz autopsy on the same day.

It’s been a little over a week since the crash of a private plane, which according to the White House was transporting President Rudolfo “Rudy” Ruiz from Turner Falls to a “private fundraiser” at Cibolo Creek Ranch1 in West Texas, resulted in the death of the most-loved and most-hated president of the modern era. The New York Times has reported that the plane was registered to the pastor of Turner Falls’ New Life Church, Kathy Donaldson, a longtime ally and mentor to President Ruiz.

For now, the Rudy Ralliers who descended upon Turner Falls for the president’s memorial events have mostly emptied out from area parks and campgrounds, and things are sort of starting to return to something like normal around here.

Although what value the word “normal” has these days is probably up for debate. Officials in Washington, D.C. have instituted a 9 p.m. curfew following what is now going on nine days of protests and demonstrations in and around the Capitol complex, leading to dozens of arrests — mostly of left-leaning #FreezeRuiz activists, who have clashed with the right-wing “Pink Bandana Brigade” and “Rud Boys,” student offshoots of the LibertyNow! movement.

So, this is how my Friday morning started:

My stepdad woke me up around 1 a.m. — not on purpose, but you know that thing where people who are trying to be quiet are actually louder than they would be if they weren’t trying to be quiet? Well, Daddy Deke is a bull in a china shop on his best day. One of his fishing buddies tipped him off that folks from out of town were already starting to line up at the Daingerfield State Park gates, so it was either lay in bed and listen to him cuss and moan getting the camper out of the back garage or help him while he cussed and moaned getting the camper out of the back garage.

He hasn’t missed a Rudy Rally in years — a fact he shares with anyone who will listen, and many who have already heard it a thousand times, yours truly included — and wasn’t going to miss what would presumably be the last one. I rode with him over to the park (the aforementioned fishing buddy was not kidding about the late-night line) and then hitched a ride to town to get in another line, this time outside New Life Church, where President Ruiz’s funeral was scheduled for mid-afternoon Friday.

When I left the Turner Corner Shoppe & Stoppe after the storm last night, I expected the post I’d be writing this morning would be about Turner Falls recovering from the worst severe weather event to hit Northeast Texas in a century. I expected it would be a story about a small town — the president’s hometown — coming together after a tragedy during a time of unprecedented national discord. Because the scene last night? Was pretty freaking apocalyptic.

I did not expect to be writing about the death of the president of the United States.

I definitely did not expect to be one of the last people to see him alive.