Just after 8:30 p.m. on a Saturday night, chaos erupts in the ballroom of the Hilton Hotel in Washington, and a wave of fear sweeps through the room. I am seated at one of roughly 200 tables when I suddenly hear dull, thudding sounds cutting through the loud music.
Barely a second later, people begin throwing themselves to the floor — first in the center of the room, near the stage, then everywhere. I hear someone shout something like “Shooting” or “Shots fired.”
I drop down as well, crouching, my eyes fixed on the stage. President Donald Trump, who had arrived only minutes earlier, is rushed away. From behind the curtain, heavily armed officers emerge, pointing their weapons toward the crowd. Secret Service agents sprint through the ballroom, vaulting over tables and chairs. Glass shatters. High-ranking politicians are pulled to safety and ushered out of the room.
It feels like a movie — but this is not Hollywood. This is reality: the storied White House Correspondents’ Dinner, with Trump attending as president for the first time, suddenly transformed into the scene of a crime.
Was Trump the target? It wouldn’t be the first time. The thought flashes through my mind in those seconds. I think about gun violence in the United States (I moved here only 8 months ago). Shootings happen constantly, everywhere — so why not here, at the Trump dinner? I am shaken, but not surprised.
No all-clear is given, yet after a few minutes, people slowly get back on their feet. Somehow, things must go on. Phones come out; people film, text, try to make sense of what just happened. It remains completely unclear what occurred — only one thing is certain: no one is allowed to leave the ballroom.
When word spreads that a “shooter” has been apprehended in the lobby, I feel a sense of relief. Twice, an announcement follows that the event will resume shortly. But it never does. Trump himself invites the press to the White House for a briefing; the dinner is over. Guests are asked to leave the hotel.
On my way out, I think about the security precautions — or lack thereof — that had struck me as surprisingly lax throughout the evening, given the presence of Trump, Vice President JD Vance, and several cabinet members.
A few hours before, traffic outside the Hilton had ground to a halt, and I had jumped out of my taxi about 500 meters away and walked the rest.
Right outside the hotel, there are shouting Trump opponents, some of whom harassed and insulted dinner guests. All it took to gain access to the premises — and the hotel — was flashing a screenshot of an invitation while passing by. Only those heading into the ballroom on a lower level had to pass through a metal detector. No need to remove a jacket. No request for a passport or ID. Once, even activists managed to slip onto the red carpet to protest Trump.
Is that adequate security for such a high-profile event? I wouldn’t presume to deliver a final judgment — but I am certain of one thing: it will be debated.
Tim Röhn is a senior editor at Business Insider’s parent company, Axel Springer.
