By Ben Meiselas
The news that filmmaker Rob Reiner and his wife, Michele, had been murdered was horrifying enough on its own. The emerging details, that the primary suspect was their son, Nick Reiner, who has struggled with addiction, made it a tragedy layered with grief, complexity, and heartbreak. In moments like these, Americans traditionally look to the president not for commentary, but for compassion. What we received instead from Donald Trump was something far darker.
This morning, Trump published a post mocking Rob Reiner’s death. He did not merely withhold condolences. He weaponized the moment. In a statement that defies decency, Trump claimed Reiner died “reportedly due to the anger he caused others through his massive, unyielding, and incurable affliction with a mind crippling disease known as TRUMP DERANGEMENT SYNDROME.” He concluded with a hollow “May Rob and Michelle rest in peace,” after spending the post demeaning the victims and glorifying himself.
Vile. Reprehensible. Evil. These words somehow are not enough to describe Trump’s comments. Even worse — his post was amplified by the White House across their official accounts. They were proud of the remarks.
The response from across the country was swift and unequivocal. California Governor Gavin Newsom called Trump “a sick man.” Franklin Leonard, founder of The Black List, wrote that every time he sees something “this far beyond the pale,” he thinks it cannot possibly be real, and “every time I’m wrong.” Neera Tanden observed that “we have never had a person of worse character as president of the United States.” These reactions were not partisan outrage. They were moral judgments.
What made Trump’s post especially grotesque was not just its content, but the contrast it revealed. When Charlie Kirk was murdered earlier this year, Rob Reiner responded with humanity. “Horror. Absolute horror,” Reiner said at the time. “I don’t care what your political beliefs are. That should never happen to anybody.” He spoke about forgiveness, empathy, and the moral obligation to reject violence entirely. That is what leadership looks like in grief.
Trump chose the opposite path.
Predictably, much of the MAGA media ecosystem rushed to deny what everyone could plainly see. Influencers insisted conservatives were not celebrating Reiner’s death. Others claimed Trump was simply being “honest” and should not be expected to eulogize his critics. But this was not about political disagreement. It was about the basic standards of human decency expected of a president. Trump was not dragged into this moment. He charged into it. Thankfully, more mainstream Republican figures have begun to speak out against Trump’s abhorrent remarks, and even many replies to Trump on his Truth Social website show his own followers aghast.
But this episode was just one moment of chaos amongst a flood originating from Donald Trump. He made other inflammatory and misleading posts in recent days, including renewed attacks on former President Joe Biden, false claims about the economy, and promotions of his so-called “Trump Card,” a scheme offering U.S. residency to wealthy foreign nationals for $5 million. It also unfolded as his administration faced mounting scrutiny, from the impending release of the Epstein files to revelations that the FBI, under Trump and Kash Patel, botched a major investigation related to the Brown University shooting in Rhode Island by identifying the wrong suspect.
The pattern is familiar. When accountability looms, Trump escalates the chaos. He distracts. He attacks. He dehumanizes.
Even in moments of national mourning, Trump cannot, or will not, act as consoler in chief. As Andrew Weinstein wrote, one of a president’s most sacred duties is to help shoulder the nation’s grief. Trump instead deepens it. His response to the recent shooting at Brown University was a shrugging “things can happen,” a phrase that encapsulates his approach to violence, tragedy, and responsibility.
Meanwhile, figures in his orbit continue to pour fuel on the fire. JD Vance recently claimed that judges in “deep blue areas” are the biggest obstacle to prosecuting violent extremists, accusing them of tolerating violence by “leftists.” It was another baseless, divisive claim, untethered from facts and designed to fracture rather than unify.
None of this is accidental. It reflects a worldview in which empathy is weakness, cruelty is strength, and power is exercised through humiliation. Trump’s post about Rob Reiner was not merely offensive. It was yet another sign that shows how far the moral center of our politics has eroded.
We are better when we reject political violence unequivocally, when we grieve together without conditions, and when our leaders understand that compassion is not performative. It is essential. Empathy is not weakness, like those in MAGA like to say. It is a superpower. A president who cannot summon basic humanity in the face of murder is not merely failing the moment. He is failing the country.
I’d like to extend my deepest condolences to the Reiner family during this this unthinkable tragedy, to the American soldiers who were ambushed and killed in Syria, to the individuals who lost their lives in the school shooting at Brown University, and to those at Bondi Beach in Australia who were gunned down during a Hanukkah celebration. And I’d like to send my gratitude to Ahmed Al Ahmed, the 43-year-old fruit shop owner who was filmed disarming one of the Bondi Beach gunmen during the attack — the one sliver of light during a very dark few days, reminding us what humanity looks like.
Thank you for your support and for staying engaged. We’re all in this together.
