“Did you feel something?” they consistently inquire. “Across your foot? Your shin?” The question about his shin or ankle often precedes his response. Before he can answer, they press further: “What was it like? Or did you just fall?” The implication of clumsiness is often present in their speculation.
Despite the suggestions, the reporter maintains he is not clumsy. While acknowledging that falls are a part of life – citing tumbles during early morning runs in Alexandria, Virginia, or past experiences with snow skiing and martial arts (holding a second-degree black belt) – he does not believe his recent incident was due to a lack of coordination.
“But what do you think it was?” they persist. He admits to having his theories.
On the day of the incident, he recalls feeling a bit tired. He also noted the slight lip on a small staircase near the U.S. Capitol’s Memorial Door, considering if his brown loafers might have caught its edge. He remembers his shoes: rubber soles, a slight scuff, and a perfect match for his crisp tan summer suit – a suitable ensemble for navigating the Capitol on a sweltering July day.
Could it have been the footwear? His fatigue? Or perhaps his eagerness to secure a story? He had just spotted then-Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, accompanied by his aides and security detail, descending a spiral staircase after a meeting with then-House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. The reporter intended to approach Trudeau with a question.
A Reporter's Unusual Quest
The planned inquiry, however, had little to do with state affairs. Instead, it revolved around baseball. The reporter, a dedicated fan, knew of Trudeau’s childhood affinity for the Montreal Expos, having seen a photograph of a young Trudeau, around 14 or 15, at Olympic Stadium with his father, the late Pierre Trudeau, cheering on the team.
The Expos, of course, no longer play in Montreal, having relocated to Washington in 2005 to become the Nationals. This particular encounter predated the tariff disputes between the two nations, and Montreal had been without Major League Baseball since the Expos’ departure.
The reporter had learned of a proposal for the Tampa Bay Rays to potentially split their season between Florida and Montreal, a move that would bring big-league baseball back to Quebec. A comment from Trudeau on such international news would be significant, garnering attention from major sports outlets in both the U.S. and Canada. For Montreal, a city famously denied a potential World Series title in 1994 due to a players’ strike, this represented a renewed hope for baseball glory.
Journalism, much like baseball, often involves a degree of failure. Success rates can be low, much like a batter’s average. And sometimes, in journalism, the crucial question remains unasked.
This was one of those days. On those steps, the questions about the Rays and Montreal were silenced, all because of whatever caused the reporter's abrupt fall.
The Unexpected Descent
As he stepped towards Prime Minister Trudeau, he began to mumble something about Tampa Bay before suddenly losing his balance. He fell directly onto the hard marble steps of the Capitol, right in front of the Canadian leader.
Realizing he was about to fall, and with a microphone in one hand, he couldn't brace himself with his hands, fearing a broken wrist. Instead, he allowed the fall to happen, relying on years of martial arts training under Master Kim and Master Yang at the Tae Kwon Do dojang. He rolled onto his right shoulder, minimizing injury.
“Oh Chad! Oh Chad! Oh Chad!” his photographer, Robert Fetzer, exclaimed in alarm. Trudeau paused momentarily. The reporter quickly sprang to his feet after the roll, still hoping to ask his baseball question. But it was too late; Trudeau departed.
“But what tripped you?” they continue to ask. “Were you all right?”
Physically, he was unharmed. Mentally, the experience was disorienting. Having worked at the U.S. Capitol for decades, he harbored a strong suspicion about what, or rather, who, might have been responsible.
Echoes of History on Capitol Hill
In the late 19th century, Representative William Taulbee, a Democrat from Kentucky, had a contentious relationship with reporter Charles Kincaid. Taulbee believed Kincaid was dishonest, particularly in his reporting on Taulbee's personal affairs. Taulbee, a tall man, was known to physically assault the much smaller Kincaid.
Even after leaving federal office, Taulbee was known to frequent the Capitol. Kincaid, anticipating an encounter, armed himself with a pistol. On February 28, 1890, the reporter shot the former congressman directly in the eye. Taulbee bled profusely down the House’s “Y” staircase, and remarkably, the bloodstains are still visible on the marble today, preserved by a chemical anomaly.
The Kentucky Democrat succumbed to his injuries eleven days later.
It is widely understood that Taulbee’s spirit is not fond of the congressional press corps, and his apparition is said to linger within the Capitol, occasionally interfering with reporters on its ornate staircases.
“What tripped you?” they ask, before often jumping to their own excited conclusion: “Was it a ghost?”
As the reporter maintains, he has his theories. He leaves it to others to draw their own conclusions, careful not to inadvertently cause anyone else to stumble.