As Loomer saw it, civil disobedience was the only tool she had left to save Western civilization from the menaces of immigration, Antifa, feminism, liberalism, Islamic terrorism, the Chinese, wokeness. She had already been kicked off most mainstream social-media platforms for things like “hateful conduct” and being a “dangerous individual.” She took to carrying a bullhorn around and contemplated driving her car off a cliff. In 2020, she ran for Congress, in the Florida district that included Mar-a-Lago, but she couldn’t make a candidate Facebook account or use PayPal to raise money. Her Democratic opponent refused to say her name, instead referring to her as a woman with the darkest heart she had ever known. Loomer lost the election by twenty points. She descended even further into what she called her “oubliette.” Increasingly, she had the sense that she was taking part in an ongoing conversation with Trump, almost like a shared inner monologue. “I don’t want to say, ‘Oh, President Trump is me,’ or, ‘I see myself in Trump.’ But I do. I mean, I do,” she told me recently. “Every time I listen to him speak, I feel like I’m listening to myself speak to myself. Does that make sense?

We were at the memorial service for Charlie Kirk, the right-wing activist, at a football stadium in Glendale, Arizona. (Kirk, who founded the youth organization Turning Point USA, had just been assassinated while speaking at a campus event in Utah.) The service, which was attended by nearly a hundred thousand mourners, began with three hours of live Christian rock. A man dragged a large wooden cross around the arena; babies wore noise-cancelling headphones while their parents swayed to the music. Loomer, who is thirty-two, casts herself as the President’s chief loyalty enforcer. She lives her life largely online—her Twitter account was reinstated in 2022, after Elon Musk purchased the company—where she posts long threads questioning the credentials and allegiances of Trump Administration officials, among other suspects. It’s always a bit disorienting to see her in person. She is slight and fairly sedate. At the memorial service, she wore a blue blouse, black slacks, and white loafers. “Since they tried killing Trump, I try not to go to events,” she said. “I’ve just been hiding in my hotel room.”

For twenty hours a day, from about 5 a.m. to 1 a.m., Loomer releases torrents of accusations and invective, an infinite scroll of alleged misdeeds and nefarious connections. She writes with the urgency of an Amber Alert, or of an incensed traveller tweeting at United Airlines in the middle of a flight delay. (“NEW: Anti-Trump, Islamist, Pakistani Immigrant State Department Employee Who Attacked Trump’s Islamic Travel Ban And Advocated For Islamic Foot Washing Stations At @StateDept Still Employed At US State Department Under Trump’s Administration. SHE JUST DELETED HER LINKEDIN!”) Though many of Loomer’s posts read like empty threats being pushed out into the void, they often reach more than a million people. She has credited herself with purging dozens of people from both the Administration and high-ranking roles in the private sector. Her motives apparently range from a desire to save the country to unabashed, petty vindictiveness; the two often overlap. She has a receptive ear in the White House. Despite never working for Trump in an official capacity—a job offer was rescinded after staffers opposed bringing her on—he has, since retaking the Presidency, allowed her to “come and visit occasionally,” Loomer told me. Trump, she insisted, is the only “other person on this planet who I think can actually empathize with me and who I can actually empathize with. I really do believe that.” He recently told her, “You’re great, and you’re difficult.”

On the floor of the stadium, the music was so loud that it was almost impossible to hear anything. I stood behind a woman who was swirling her white dress around before falling to her knees to pray. Above, I could see Trump in his glass-encased skybox. Two planes full of Administration officials, practically the entire Cabinet, had come from Washington for the funeral, as had a cross-section of the wider MAGA universe—from Tucker Carlson to the guy who shows up at rallies dressed as the border wall. Near the stage, where V.I.P. guests were filtering through the crowd to take their seats in a roped-off section, a woman on a motorized scooter backed up to hug Loomer and congratulate her on her work. Two teen-agers in Trump hats asked her for selfies. “I love when you drop the teasers and it’s, like, ‘I’m going to kill you later!’ ” one said. (Loomer will often post a red siren emoji with a directive to keep watching her account for a bombshell reveal.) Jacob Wells, a founder of GiveSendGo, an online fund-raising platform that Loomer has used to solicit donations for her “lawfare fund,” came up to shake her hand.

Sean Curran, the director of the Secret Service, approached the V.I.P. area, flanked by a coterie of other agents. Loomer recognized him immediately; Curran had jumped on Trump during the attempted assassination in Butler, Pennsylvania.

“Oh, my God, that’s the hero that saved President Trump!” Loomer said.

She went up to say hello. They, too, hugged and took a photo together.