Toms River, NJ — In a blunt and fiery post on Truth Social this week, Donald Trump confirmed what I suspected but few were willing to say out loud: former New Jersey Governor Chris Christie never made it into Trump’s inner circle because of how he handled the now-infamous Bridgegate scandal—and especially, how he allegedly sacrificed a young single mother to save himself.
People have long wondered why Trump, known for rewarding loyal allies, passed over Christie for major roles in his administration—no vice presidency, no attorney general slot, not even a symbolic appointment in the White House.
He wasn’t even offered a spot on the White House landscaping staff.
The answer, we have known for years, dates back to a political betrayal during one of the most chaotic episodes of Christie’s governorship.
In 2015, observers began suggesting that Christie’s decision to let Bridget Anne Kelly, a top aide and single mother, take the fall for the George Washington Bridge lane closure scheme played a significant role.
At the time, the speculation was dismissed.
As a person who spends his life reading people and getting to know more about them than they know about themselves, the reason was more than obvious.
But it never sat right with Trump, who has long emphasized loyalty and personal integrity. Christie’s repeated denials of involvement—and his failure to shield Kelly from prosecution—was a red flag we saw from day one.
Let’s rewind. I was the photographer who captured key moments during the Bridgegate scandal. It was September 2013, and while flames ripped through the Seaside Boardwalk, the governor was on site touring the damage. I was embedded with the governor’s entourage that day, even after Christie tried to have me removed from the area.
Seaside Heights Police Chief Thomas Boyd intervened, telling the governor’s aides, “He’s my guy, he’s going.”
Chris Christie never liked me. That much was obvious. His team was visibly annoyed that when it came to Ocean County, I had complete access, even to moments he didn’t want the media to see. They routinely tried to block me from their events because we posed a real danger. We weren’t the far-left media. We were the ‘conservative media’ and if we were hitting the governor, there was a real problem.
I walked the boardwalk with the governor and the mayor that day, but something felt off.
Behind the scenes, there was tension that had nothing to do with the fire. Christie and his team—including Kelly—kept separating themselves from me, whispering nervously, clearly preoccupied with something else. I remember Kelly looking distraught, texting rapidly as if something more urgent was unfolding.
She was texting like mad, with a look of either fear, anger, or frustration on her face, that wasn’t related to the burning boardwalk behind her. She barely noticed the fire.
I didn’t realize it then, but they were knee-deep in the Bridgegate operation while the boardwalk burned.
I snapped the now-infamous photo of Kelly texting. Weeks later, a reporter from the Bergen Record contacted me, asking for the timestamp. It matched precisely with a key moment in the Bridgegate timeline.
As the day unfolded on the boardwalk, I saw Christie giving direction to Kelly while she typed on her phone. To me, it was clear: Christie was involved—possibly orchestrating the whole thing.
I recall one moment vividly. Christie, visibly distressed, ducked behind Seaside Steaks to escape the cameras. It was just me, the governor, and a photographer from the Asbury Park Press. No staff. No security guards.
Christie was hunched over, sweat dripping, gasping for air. He was having some kind of medical episode.
“Governor, are you OK?” I asked.
“I just need a minute,” he replied. “It’s hot out here.”
Trying to lighten the moment, I joked, “Chris, come on man, I’m a big guy too. It’s not that bad.”
At the time, I thought he was just winded. Looking back, it might’ve been a panic attack—evidence of the immense pressure mounting around Bridgegate.
Years later, Christie launched a bid for the Republican nomination for President, only to drop out and back Trump. But no political favor was returned. Rumors swirled that Trump had not forgotten Bridgegate—or forgiven the way Kelly was left to fend for herself in court for years.
This week, Trump broke his silence. In a Truth Social post, he referred to Christie as “Sloppy Chris,” tearing into the former governor’s Bridgegate denials and suggesting that justice was never fully served:
“I just watched Sloppy Chris Christie be interviewed on a ratings challenged ‘News’ Show… Do you remember the way he lied about the dangerous and deadly closure of the George Washington Bridge… sacrificing people who worked for him, including a young mother… Chris refused to take responsibility… For the sake of JUSTICE, perhaps we should start looking at that very serious situation again?”
And with that post, Trump confirmed what I have been saying for over a decade. It’s why I lost total respect for the former governor too. Let’s not go too far and say that Kelly and her cohort David Wildstein were innocent blooming flowers in the incident either.
But neither one of them orchestrated this scandal. It was Christie, in my opinion.
Christie didn’t just lose Trump’s trust—he lost his chance at Washington because he failed the one test Trump values above all else. That’s why Christie spends every waking moment on ABC trashing the President.
