I lost a brother last Friday.
It left an ache in my heart that can never be quelled. A void in my life that can never be filled.
And even as I look at him now warmly smiling in the picture above, my eyes brim with heavy tears. And my mind reels in disbelief.
Why am I bringing this up in an insider political report?
I’ll fill you in on the details in just a minute…
But, first, if I may, let me tell you a little story about my brother Rogelio –
Because once you understand who he was, you will understand why we who knew him weep.
It was a dark, rainy night nearly five years ago when I came out to start my old well-worn Jeep and begin the two-hour journey from my job in Washington to my home in York, Pennsylvania.
I got in the car. I turned the key. And nothing.
Not a putter. Not a grind. Not even a click.
Nothing.
I called Rogelio who lived near me in York and who knew more about cars than Henry Ford.
I explained what happened – nothing, not even a click – and Rogelio said, “It’s the starter, brother. I’ll be right over. You go back inside and wait.”
“Right over”… from York, Pennsylvania. Two hours away.
Rogelio drove to a nearby store (nearby him, not me – I was two hours away) and bought a starter. He drove through the sturm und drang. And by the time he came to my rescue, it was nearly ten o’clock at night.
A dark night. A rainy night. The clouds blanketing a parking lot filled with deepening puddles of polluted water.
Rogelio, his warm and welcoming smile never leaving his kind and gentle face, gave me a hug, told me to stay inside –
And crawled under the Jeep.
A half hour later, soaked and wet, but still smiling just as he is in the picture above, Rogelio came to my door, tossed me the keys, and said, “You can head home now, brother. Everything is okay.”
And he left.
Just like that.
This past Friday night, Rogelio was killed in a one-car collision when that same old Jeep he had taken to once again repair skidded off the road, rolled down an embankment, and crashed headlong into a tree.
His skull was fractured.
My heart was broken.
And my life was forever changed…
Because I know I will never see his likes again.
So, why am I telling you this in a political report?
Because, Rogelio Johnson was not only my brother – he was one of us.
He was a Constitutional Rights PAC Patriot.
And he was a proud, black MAGA Man.
In fact, in the last conversation we had, on the phone, just hours before he died, Rogelio said to me, “Hey brother, I had an argument with a friend last night. He called and started criticizing Trump. And you know, I love Trump. He is my brother.”
So this report to you is a tribute to my dear, beloved brother – and fellow Constitutional Rights PAC MAGA Trump loyalist Rogelio Johnson.
And a heartfelt, heartrending assurance to you that – all of the lickspittle mainstream media reports notwithstanding -- Rogelio is not alone as a brother from the hood who supports Donald Trump.
He was also a proud black man of the streets – who felt the pulse of his people…
And knew that, indeed, the times they are a’changin – for the good of us all –
Because he was helping lead the change.
May God rest and bless the kind, gentle and generous soul of Rogelio Johnson.
I will see you in Beulah Land, my brother.
You enjoy the “sweet by and by”…
And we who remain in the void promise to honor your love for your brother Donald by working to change the here and now.
