The Whisper Network That Caught Up To Eric Swalwell

Five months before Arielle Fodor, better known on social media as “Mrs. Frazzled,” helped set in motion the downfall of Rep. Eric Swalwell, she was singing his praises on Instagram.

“You know how I love to tell you when I meet a politician who acts like a normal human and not a robot!” she posted the day after the California Democrat launched his campaign for governor. “Eric is that.”

It was a fairly anodyne post for Fodor, a prodigious professional poster. But it drew an unusual response: Three people privately warning her that Swalwell was no good.

Those messages were the embers of a firestorm that in short order incinerated Swalwell’s campaign, and is now engulfing what remains of his political career.

Swalwell suspended his campaign Sunday, days after multiple news outlets reported on allegations that he sexually harassed women, had sexual relationships with subordinate staff and, in two cases, committed sexual assault. Swalwell has denied accusations he had nonconsensual sex with anybody, though he acknowledged “personal failings.”

The broad contours of Swalwell’s alleged behavior, if not the specifics, did not come as a surprise to many working in and around politics, especially in Washington. The 45-year-old cable news darling and Trump antagonist had developed a reputation for unsavory and sometimes unwanted behavior toward women. Those warnings were shared in whisper networks but rarely traveled outside the circle of political insiders.

That is, until Swalwell sought a promotion to lead the nation’s most populous state and a pair of content creators worked to spill that open secret into public view. His breakneck undoing is a testament to the striking power of a new media ecosystem in which influencers with huge audiences can not only publicize politicians, but control the political conversation. Their growing clout has thrust campaigns into a new digital Wild West, where long-buried allegations and unsubstantiated rumors can find their earliest stages of vetting, a warning for politicians at all levels, including in the run-up to 2028.

On paper, it was a lopsided matchup. Swalwell had a national profile and support from many in the Democratic Party apparatus. Fodor and another content creator, Cheyenne Hunt — along with behind-the-scenes help from Hunt’s friend, a woman who alleged she had been personally harassed by Swalwell and still remains anonymous — had their keyboards and iPhone cameras.

“People were saying, ‘They’re paid. This is [backed by] a billionaire. This is Roger Stone. This is MAGA,” Fodor said. “In the end, it was three women in a group chat trying everything in our power. It really has just been us.”

Swalwell did not respond to a request for comment on a detailed list of questions. This account is based on 20 interviews with campaign staffers, content creators, lawmakers, and people from major labor and business organizations. Many were granted anonymity to speak candidly about private discussions.

Together, they tell the story of Swalwell’s political implosion — and a political establishment now confronting its own role enabling his rise.

“Were we willing to delude ourselves or not ask questions that should have been asked? One thousand percent,” said one veteran Sacramento lobbyist who worked with interests backing Swalwell. “Did people see what they want to see or hear what they want to hear or not ask the questions they didn’t want the answers to? One thousand percent.”

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‘Endorse at your own peril people’

Through his ubiquitous cable news hits and prominent roles in President Donald Trump’s two impeachments, Swalwell had made himself a national figure in Democratic politics. But when he launched his campaign for governor on Nov. 20, he was essentially a stranger in California’s political circles.

He was so unfamiliar with his state’s capital city that, while gazing at the view of the Capitol dome from a nearby high-rise, he pointed at the construction for the sprawling, $1.1 billion state office overhaul alongside it and asked if they were building condos, according to someone who heard the comment.

But as he courted political insiders, Swalwell’s blank slate became the pitch. People could see what they wanted to see — to progressive labor unions, he was an anti-Trump warrior, to business groups, he was a moderate ex-prosecutor. His campaign strategists would acknowledge to lobbyists he was light on policy, but argued that just meant he was still malleable.

The “something for everyone” pitch arrived precisely when Sacramento power players were feeling especially gloomy about the governor’s race. Many had waited to see if Kamala Harris would jump in and then pinned their hopes on Alex Padilla; both opting out of the race threw the contest wide open. Now it was November, and practically none of the major interests had chosen a candidate. Operatives were getting antsy.

The top three contenders — Swalwell, Katie Porter and Tom Steyer — were all relative outsiders to the insular world of the Capitol. Swalwell relied on two of his House colleagues, Reps. Adam Gray and Jimmy Gomez, who both served in the state Legislature, to introduce him around town. Gradually, key members of Gavin Newsom’s circle joined his campaign, and the governor’s chief consulting firm Bearstar Strategies stood up a pro-Swalwell independent expenditure committee. Newsom never endorsed in the contest, but having his team on board boosted Swalwell’s credibility.

But as Swalwell was cruising into the upper echelons of the political class, he was dogged by a social media post that Mike Trujillo, a longtime political consultant, had dashed off in early December.

“I guess Swalwell can enjoy today but folks know he slept with many of his interns while he was married, sexually harassed others while engaged, has a ton of weird texts late at night saved on former interns phones still, he gets he will have to answer for his [sic] later in the campaign, right? Endorse at your own peril people. Yo [sic] have been fully warned, just doing my public service today,” he wrote.

Swalwell had been on Trujillo’s radar since 2017, after he said he heard a story — which has not been independently confirmed by POLITICO — about a friend of a friend who had a negative experience with the congressmember. Throughout the years, he had collected similar accounts, especially during Swalwell’s short-lived presidential campaign in 2019. When Swalwell went back to being one of 435 members of Congress, he found women who had been willing to talk lost interest in sharing their stories. But now, Swalwell was seeking a more powerful job.

Trujillo’s post went viral, getting more than 140,000 views. And it caught the attention of the Swalwell campaign, which sent him a cease-and-desist letter. Trujillo complied, but figured it was inevitable that Swalwell’s behavior would come to light.

“I thought, ‘Holy shit, everyone knows this is a thing. This’ll be the easiest story ever,’” Trujillo said. He continued to pitch reporters on what he knew.

Swalwell’s allies were quick to discredit the source, as Trujillo is known for his social media bomb-throwing. He is also a longtime aide to Antonio Villaraigosa, who is running for governor, and was working on an outside committee to support the former Los Angeles mayor.

Still, the rumors circulated enough that power brokers were compelled to bring them up to Swalwell directly. In endorsement interviews and over meals, he was asked if there was anything to the chatter, anything in his past that could damage not only him, but his supporters. Swalwell insisted there was not. He told people he was one of Trump’s favorite targets; surely, if there were any skeletons in his closet, the president’s MAGA legion would have found them.

“I asked Eric a lot of questions, and people that were close to him questions: Is there anything? You don’t have to tell me what,” said Ian Calderon, a former state lawmaker who ended his own campaign for governor in March and endorsed Swalwell. “I told him, ‘There are no secrets in politics, and if there is something, it will come out.’ He was indignant and adamant.”

Swalwell’s campaign aides encouraged Sacramento insiders to ask him directly about the rumors. Surrogates and staffers amplified his denials, passing the message along: There’s nothing to worry about. Allegations circulating are just rival campaigns looking to drag Swalwell down.

“I told him, ‘They’re going to ask some really tough questions.’ He answered them all perfectly. Everyone called back and said, “‘He denied this, denied that. We’re satisfied,’” a senior campaign leader said. “The dude deserves a fucking Academy Award for liar of the year.”

To Sacramento insiders used to politicians hedging their language, the flat denials sounded definitive.

“We’re so used to the qualifiers … and [he said] ‘I have never had any kind of relationship with anybody that I work with,” said one influential operative. “I feel so fucking stupid.”

Members of Congress said they also took Swalwell and key surrogates at their word. Two dozen of his colleagues endorsed him, lending his campaign credibility and a veneer of establishment backing. They have all since pulled their endorsements while voicing shock at the allegations.

“These members, if they thought there was anything — do you think they would have endorsed him?” said one lawmaker who supported Swalwell.

Many players took his assertions at face value or put perfunctory effort into digging around themselves. Meanwhile, the money was beginning to flow, and both pro-Swalwell and anti-Steyer outside groups were hitting the airwaves.

“He was about to be the next governor,” said the senior campaign leader. “He was a week or two shy. You could feel the momentum. Everybody believed it.”

‘A horrible rumor’

The messages Fodor got after her enthusiastic Swalwell post disturbed her. She said one warned her not to give him her personal number, claiming he had a penchant for late-night sexts. Another alleged he slept with an intern. The third just sent up a vague flare: “uh oh.”

Fodor, an elementary school teacher, had made her name as an education influencer on TikTok and Threads, but she was increasingly establishing herself as a political force. She interviewed Newsom about his Proposition 50. She would travel to D.C. to interview lawmakers on the Hill.

She began asking her contacts in Washington if they heard similar rumors. They had. But few expected Swalwell to be called out publicly for his behavior.

“People were so downtrodden by what they had experienced in D.C. — to the point where people were like, “Listen, I’ve been broken. This is how men are. This is like what I’ve experienced in politics, this is what it’s like up there,” she said.

That resignation only fueled Fodor further, especially, she said, when she heard from a sitting member of Congress that there was some truth behind the chatter. (Fodor declined to name the lawmaker). She posted a vague comment in February expressing disappointment in a member of Congress, catching the attention of both Swalwell’s campaign and his opponents.

In mid-March, Fodor got a text message from Yardena Wolf, who was then Swalwell’s campaign manager and former chief of staff, saying she heard Fodor had concerns. Wolf attributed the chatter to a “horrible rumor started by a now deleted tweet from an opposing candidate’s staffer” and offered to reach out.

“I reached out to better understand the claims being circulated and to question their accuracy,” Wolf told POLITICO on Monday. “I had worked with him for many years and at the time believed his assertions to be true.”

Fodor was unsettled by the outreach and never responded. Instead, she escalated, calling out Swalwell by name in posts and drawing backlash from people online accusing her of doing Republicans’ dirty work. But she also started to hear from women with their own stories about Swalwell. She became an unlikely clearinghouse for the allegations, figuring out how to proceed as she went.

While Fodor was waging her lonely crusade, Hunt, a lawyer and former Democratic congressional candidate, got a text from a close friend who was distraught. The friend alleged she had been harassed by Swalwell years ago and could not fathom that he could be the next California governor (her story was later reported on by NOTUS). Hunt had also heard the whispers about Swalwell during her time on the Hill, and at her friend’s request, she agreed to post a video online calling him out. Fodor heard about Hunt’s plan through the content-creator grapevine and messaged her about it the night before. They had never met or interacted before.

Hunt’s video was like a splash of gasoline on Fodor’s slow-burning campaign. They said they heard from more women, with allegations ranging from unwanted DMs to more serious charges. Both women thought they were collecting stories about a “sex pest,” as they both called him; neither expected this would veer into criminal accusations. They worked to find pro bono legal counsel for the women and decided to direct them to a single news outlet, CNN.

Media outlets have infrastructure to support such investigations — experienced reporters and editors, newsroom lawyers, resources to fend off lawsuits. The content creators had none of that. Both women said they independently took out umbrella insurance policies to protect their houses and other assets in case they got sued.

At one point Fodor, feeling increasingly overwhelmed, sent a message to Hunt: “I think we have bitten off more than we can chew here.”

The influencers agreed that specific allegations needed to be broken in a news story. While reporters dug into the allegations, they kept up a public drumbeat, insisting that Swalwell was a shady character and promising the details would come out soon. The tease infuriated many on social media, who accused the influencers of being irresponsible by lobbing accusations without backing them up.

But the threat of a soon-to-drop news story was enough to dry up Swalwell’s fundraising and unnerve supporters. Political operatives of all stripes were disconcerted watching the influencers play by their own set of rules, different from the norms of media outlets, and wondered if this would become a new normal in campaigns — a prospect that even unsettled the influencers.

“I have a lot of fears about the blurred lines between content creators and journalists,” Hunt said. She knew her personal familiarity with Swalwell’s reputation would never have been sufficient basis for a reporter to write a story.

“It was enough for me to feel confident in not getting sued, and to want to let other women know that they weren’t alone, and only from that place would we be able to break his story in a traditional news media outlet,” she said. “I don’t want this to be a green light to creators who think that they should be breaking sensitive news.”

‘These campaigns will come for our necks’

Swalwell’s campaign, which had tried to ignore the crescendoing online chatter, decided last Monday they could no longer stay quiet. Endorsers were getting increasingly worried. The swirl had migrated from the Democratic social media ecosystem to conservative influencers. The Daily Caller, a right-leaning outlet, published an article based on Hunt’s posts.

The campaign statement, released the next day and since retracted, was a blanket denunciation of a “false, outrageous rumor” that, it said, was stoked by Swalwell’s campaign opponents and MAGA enemies. It specifically said Swalwell had never had staff sign non-disclosure agreements, which the influencers had said was a reason victims had not spoken out before. Hours later, Swalwell reiterated the denial, stating unconditionally that he never had sexual relations with a staffer or intern.

The disavowal made some Swalwell allies worry that he boxed himself in if any allegations did surface. But to others, its definitiveness was reassuring. Besides, Swalwell himself was making the rounds in Sacramento that day, projecting confidence. Supporters seized on the smallest signals to reassure themselves.

“People were like, ‘Oh, he was happy, he had a smile on his face. He didn’t look stressed about any of that stuff,’” the veteran lobbyist said. “It’s nonsense, but I heard that from multiple people.”

Behind the scenes, the Swalwell campaign moved to undermine Hunt and Fodor, suggesting to reporters and allies, without evidence, they were being paid by rivals.

Some opposing campaigns were read into the influencers’ efforts; Fodor said she had texted “every staffer I’ve ever known in my life,” which included those working for Swalwell’s competitors. But, she said, the campaigns kept her at arm’s length. Both women said they had not been paid by anyone for their efforts.

“Watching Swalwell’s team release a press release about me and invite my friends to a Zoom call to try to discredit me — I think a lot of creators will look back on that, including myself, as a moment where we realize that we’re in a place now where these campaigns will come for our necks personally,” Fodor said. “They will personally try to discredit us if we do something they don’t like, and that’s very scary.”

All week, Swalwell and his team were calling supporters, insisting there was nothing to be nervous about. The influencers had embarked on a parallel lobbying effort, urging celebrities, elected officials and donors to hold off from supporting Swalwell, warning them something was coming.

Hunt and Fodor were kept out of CNN’s editorial processes, but they had a sense the story would run on Friday and set their alarms for 3 a.m. PST, prepared for news to drop as soon as the East Coast started its day. They woke up to see nothing online — and learned that Swalwell’s attorney had sent cease-and-desist letters to multiple women (whose identities had not been disclosed) in the dead of night.

Swalwell held a Zoom call with senior staff Friday morning — a team dominated by women who asked him questions for nearly an hour. He did not waver from his denials. The team prepped call lists of supporters he should check in with and sent a staffer to scout locations for an afternoon press conference in Los Angeles.

Then CNN sent over a list of the assertions it was planning to report. Upon reading it, one adviser resigned on the spot and encouraged others to do the same. Soon after, the San Francisco Chronicle published a story about a former staffer who claimed Swalwell had sexual encounters with her when he was her boss and alleged he sexually assaulted her twice when she was too drunk to consent.

“It was one of the most surreal moments of my life,” Hunt said, who at the time was on a Zoom call with Fodor and some celebrities and their PR teams planning how to get resources for the women coming forward. Her close friend had flown in to sit with her in person. They all began to cry.

“This whole time we knew that we felt pretty confident that we would be able to get it to break,” Hunt said. “But there was also this sense of — if people have been investigating it for [years] … what are we going to be able to do that’s going to change that?”

CNN followed soon after with a story that featured the same accuser, as well as three other women. The stories had been anticipated for weeks but they still left the political world stunned. However ugly the rumors had been, they had not prepared people for allegations of sexual assault.

Within an afternoon, Swalwell’s assiduously-built political foundation fell out from under him. Politicians retracted their endorsements immediately. Labor unions and business groups convened emergency meetings to withdraw their support. Former Speaker Nancy Pelosi, whom Swalwell had called his “work mom,” told him that afternoon to drop out.

The breathtaking fall was nudged along by the influencers, who had blasted the stories to a network of creators that collectively had a reach of over 200 million people. They went so far as to craft talking points in advance of publication of reports they had never seen.

“We didn’t know exactly what’s going to be in it,” Hunt said. “Turns out, we were spot on.”

Swalwell kept up his defiant posture, insisting he was innocent of the alleged assaults. He abandoned the other assertions — that he never had relations with a staffer, that he never made use of NDAs — that had been undermined by news reports, including by POLITICO. He refused to immediately drop out, though within 48 hours, he would officially suspend his campaign.

The aftermath is still unfolding. The Manhattan district attorney opened an investigation into one of the alleged assaults. Swalwell still faces calls to resign from Congress or potentially face an expulsion vote.

Meanwhile, the social media warriors are still digesting what just happened.

“I’m just in awe thinking about the fact that it took five years to break the Cesar Chavez story,” Hunt said. “And through … the parasocial relationships that get built on social media, and the volume and the reach that you can get, Arielle and I were able to build that trust with an incredible number of women so quickly.”

The influencers continue to hear from women who said they had negative experiences with Swalwell. But now they see their cause as something larger — finding support networks for women who spoke out, forcing a reckoning on a political culture where open secrets flourish.

“I am absolutely committed to this moment,” Hunt said. “And the team is not disbanding. We’re just getting started.”

Blake Jones and Dustin Gardiner contributed reporting.