Hi, I’m Tara Palmeri, welcome back to The Best & The Brightest.

Today might be remembered as the high-water mark of Donald Trump’s campaign. First, Supreme Court justices appeared skeptical of the Colorado high court’s constitutional argument for keeping him off the state ballot, likely killing any chance that other states follow suit. Then, special counsel Robert Hur delivered a particularly bruising report on Joe Biden’s handling of classified materials. Hur decided that “no criminal charges are warranted”—a win for Biden, who left a cardboard box full of sensitive documents in his garage, next to his Corvette—but his reasoning is sure to supercharge Trump’s campaign.

According to the report, “It would be difficult to convince a jury that they should convict him—by then a former president well into his eighties—of a serious felony that requires a mental state of willfulness.” Indeed, the special counsel wrote, Biden struggled during interviews with the Justice Department to recall “when he was vice president,” and even “within several years, when his son Beau died.” His memory was equally hazy, according to Hur, when “describing the Afghanistan debate.” Cue the Trump ads in 3, 2, 1…

More on that to come. In tonight’s column, my latest reporting on the Ronna McDaniel defenestration, and why the border bill disaster doubles as a swan song for Mitch McConnell.

But first… news and notes from Abby Livingston on the Hill, Tina Nguyen on the Johnson-Rosendale affair, and Julia Ioffe on Zelensky finally firing his top general. Let’s get started…

• C.M.R. quit early: Her retirement wasn’t a total surprise, but it’s more shocking than the exit of fellow chairs Kay Granger at Appropriations and Patrick McHenry at Financial Services. Those Republicans had hit their term limits as chairs, and their exits seemed inevitable. C.M.R., however, had another term to go—and gave up the gavel anyway. Perhaps one early clue was her dip in fundraising, which is normally around $1 million a quarter. Her latest F.E.C. report showed that number plummeting to just below $400,000 in the final quarter of 2023.

  Of course, C.M.R. is old-school, and she may have simply felt it was time to hang it up. But one intriguing observation was whispered to me in the hours after the news broke: Perhaps it’s a sign that the political winds are blowing House Democrats’ way, and serving in the minority—even as a ranking member—is not that appealing.

• Why is everyone bolting from E&C?: Beyond McMorris Rodgers, seven Republicans and three Democrats are also departing from the exclusive committee, which attracts normies obsessed with the arcana of oil and gas policy, or doctors whose great legislative passion is to deregulate the healthcare industry. What’s going on? “I wish I knew,” a Republican lobbyist told me this afternoon. “It runs the gamut on all levels of conservatism of retirees. It could be the frustration of not being able to get anything done.”

  It’s an open question who might fill these vacancies. (When I asked an exceptionally plugged-in G.O.P. source about the succession race, they simply sent me the seniority order of the committee.) But prior to C.M.R.’s announcement, some concerned E&C types on the Democratic side wondered whether the committee will be stacked with conservative rabble-rousers next term, just like the Rules Committee this term. Whatever the case, these slots are giant chits for Mike Johnson, or anyone else, to hand out next fall if there is any sort of competitive leader race in the conference. —Abby Livingston

Rosendale and Johnson aides deny that there was any such understanding: Rosendale’s people say his vote was consistent with his beliefs, while Johnson’s people say discussions about an endorsement took place after Tuesday’s vote closed. Still, it’s hard to understand why Johnson was considering an endorsement at all. Rosendale, who already lost once to incumbent Democrat Jon Tester, was already uniquely unpopular: “Everybody in Montana seems to despise him. McConnell world hates him. Trumpworld hates him. The N.R.S.C. hates him. McCarthy world hates him.” (Unity, at last, in the G.O.P.?)

Johnson, I’m told, was initially open to Rosendale as a fellow Freedom Caucus member, and his vote on Israel aid clinched the endorsement. But while Johnson was prepared to risk the wrath of McConnell, the leak and resulting blowback from other quadrants of the party, particularly Trumpworld and the Montana delegation, caught him off guard. “I don’t know if he knew” how much they hated Rosendale, a Republican close to leadership told me.

In a statement, Johnson’s campaigns communications director Greg Steele told me that Johnson was committed to sending a donation to Rosendale’s campaign, but had not made an endorsement in the Senate race. Meanwhile, fellow Montana congressman and Trump ally Ryan Zinke told Politico’s Olivia Beavers—on the record, mind you—that “the Speaker withdrew his endorsement largely based on the reality that Rosendale is the weaker candidate by far against Tester.” Talk about being stabbed in the front. —Tina Nguyen

The reasons for the Zelensky-Zaluzhny split have been widely documented. They’ve accumulated for the last two years and seemed to culminate when Zaluzhny started speaking out of turn, first telling The Economist the war was at a “stalemate” (Zelensky had told his Western backers everything was going great, just one more push) and then writing in CNN that Ukraine needed to draft half a million men to have any chance of turning this war around (Zelensky had dismissed such a massive mobilization as a nonstarter and political suicide). On top of that, Zaluzhny had become popular not just with the troops he commanded, but with Ukrainians at large. Zelensky smelled a political rival.

Replacing Zaluzhny is Oleksandr Syrsky, a Russia-born, Soviet-style general who, I’m told, has the charisma of a potato—and is therefore not a threat to Zelensky. Sources tell me he’s known for demoralizing, meat-grinder battles (like the one at Bakhmut) and that he inspires fear and loathing among his subordinates, rather than in the enemy. He is also despised by the troops, who have nicknamed him “The Butcher” and “General200,” a play on the term gruz200, the old Soviet military term for a zinc coffin with a dead soldier in it.

I’m reminded why Zelensky had an approval rating in the 20s going into the war, and why Ukraine was long considered a political clusterfuck. Now that the early and unifying white-knuckle days of the invasion are behind us, the bloody, muddy stagnation on the battlefield is revealing, once again, Ukraine’s perennial political dysfunction. This time, however, it’s truly alarming. The war is not going well for Ukraine: Russia has seized the momentum and, while Ukraine’s economy is gravely wounded, Russia’s is growing and its oil revenues are actually higher now than they were before the war. In the meantime, America can’t get its head out of its ass long enough to fund Ukraine, which is severely strapped for weapons and ammunition.

This year, analysts say, will be pivotal for the war in Ukraine—a make-or-break one—and Zelensky’s decision to replace Zaluzhny with Syrsky is making them even more pessimistic that Ukraine can win it. Or, as one Ukrainian soldier put it, “We’re all fucked.” —Julia Ioffe

Of course, that’s a lifetime from now in Trump years: Who knows what sort of wackadoodle idea could take shape inside the former president’s brain—via Newsmax, say, or Steve Bannon’s War Room podcast—between now and then. And R.N.C. insiders are understandably worried about that vacuum of time in the middle of an election cycle. Trump and his campaign may have been pissed about McDaniel’s jejune fundraising—the R.N.C. only has $9 million in cash on hand—but forcing her to step down will likely only make donors more cautious about writing checks to a leaderless institution during the next few weeks, if not longer.

The uncertainty is magnified by the typical Trump parlor antics—particularly the trial balloons being floated regarding who might succeed McDaniel. A veritable Veepstakes Lite is emerging with the amplification of B-list culture warriors like Laura Loomer or Vivek Ramaswamy, or B-list Trump family members such as Lara Trump or Kimberly Guilfoyle. “That would feel really nepotistic,” agreed committee member Oscar Brock, remarking that the R.N.C. chair isn’t merely a green room job. The role manages about 700 staffers and hundreds of volunteers at the convention.

Sources close to Trump have channeled that he prefers North Carolina committee member Michael Whatley, a low-profile operator who’s not exactly telegenic, talented at fundraising, or popular with his peers—in fact, “Whatley’s not well liked among his colleagues,” a source close to the R.N.C. told me. But Whatley, who dropped out of the race during the last leadership election, has won points in Trumpworld for his obsessive election denialism and his effort to aggressively orchestrate North Carolina’s Stop the Steal efforts. He even installed poll-watchers during the midterms. (Trump spokesperson Jason Miller, who retweeted a Fox News story that Trump was pushing for Whatley, told me that this is all “speculation.”)

Whatley or no Whatley, the nebulousness has frozen a fundraising opportunity. “I am concerned about the potential reduction in raising money if donors don’t have confidence in who is going to be the chairman,” said Brock, who sits on the finance committee. “If you’re a big-money donor, you’re not just giving to the party, you are doing it because of the relationship. The chairman likes you, you get invited to a donor summit. As long as there’s ambiguity, I think donors may wait until a new chairman is in place. We still don’t have a clue as to the timing of all of this—[Trump] said on or after South Carolina.”

Truthfully, some of this hand-wringing is overdone. In the modern era, national campaigns are funded largely by super PACs and dark money groups. Some uber-wealthy donate to the R.N.C. in exchange for access to summits and events at the conventions, but savvy donors give directly to their candidates or the congressional and Senate committees. Regardless, I suppose, the Trump campaign sees it as another money pot, especially since the maximum donation of $800,000 for the joint victory fund can help service the candidate’s exorbitant legal fees.

McConnell is being blamed for letting one of Trump’s signature issues dangle for far too long, without enough buy-in. “The old Mitch wouldn’t have ever let it hang out this long, he would have made them come to an agreement or move on,” said a Senate source. “He’s so focused on Ukraine. Members that are for Ukraine get it intellectually, but they’re over it.”

It’s easy to blame McConnell’s health issues, which had him out for six weeks, or the unhappiness over the continuing resolution that led to Kevin McCarthy’s doom. Instead, however, there is a pervasive feeling that he and Trump exist on separate planes. “It used to be that he released the bill and he had the votes and you go. The problem is, times have changed; you have to talk to us,” said a senior Senate source representing the MAGA-friendly wing of the chamber. “The members are more loyal to Trump than him. He’s not popular in our states where Trump is. It’s just the reality. Trump has loosened [McConnell’s] grip on the conference.”

This isn’t the House, so the leadership fight can wait until after the election. In the meantime, though, some have brushed up on what it would take to actually redo a leadership election in case things really get bad—itself a staggering contingency. In the meantime, many are watching to see whether McConnell will make gestures toward succession before the election. Some could see him resigning in the summer to clear the way for a new leader, most likely minority whip John Thune.

Yes, there could be a standoff. The other two Johns in leadership—Barrasso and Cornyn—would also be in contention if there’s a real leadership race. And there could be a dark horse play by two Trumpier candidates, such as Tom Cotton or Steve Daines. There would be a strong case for Daines if Republicans win back the majority after his leadership at the National Republican Senatorial committee. As the first senator to endorse Trump, he has thoughtfully worked with the Trump team on endorsements so that they’re not sideways on races.

But Thune would be the successor most likely to carry on the McConnell legacy. Some looking at the tea leaves have noticed that McConnell Senate Leadership Fund fundraiser David Gershanik also fundraised for Thune last cycle. I’ve also heard that Johnny DeStefano, a former Trump White House aide, may help Thune’s operation through a 501(c)4. DeStefano could be perceived as a way to connect Thune, who still hasn’t endorsed Trump, and Mar-a-Lago. Passing the reins over to Thune would also be a way to keep McConnell’s lieutenants Josh Holmes and Steven Law in place atop the Senate fundraising apparatus and provide continuity for donors. “It would be, ‘Don’t worry [that] we’re changing at the head; everything stays the same.’ People take some solace in that,” said a Senate leadership source, comparing it to how Mike Johnson maintained much of McCarthy’s political apparatus at the Congressional Leadership Fund, including Dan Conston.

For now, anyway, reminiscing about “the old Mitch” has become the regular chatter around the halls of Congress, and that may be enough of a reason for him to start laying the groundwork for his exit, and his legacy.