From Butler, Pennsylvania: On Saturday, July 13, 2024, just over four hours before Republican presidential candidate and former President Donald Trump was set to deliver a speech at the Butler Farm Show Complex along Buttermilk Avenue, local resident Harry Norman, a 75-year-old Vietnam War veteran, was among the 50,000 attendees getting ready by strolling through the refurbished farmland surrounding the stage where Trump was to speak.
Norman, wearing a green cotton T-shirt, jeans, and a camouflage hat with “TRUMP” printed on the front, made his way towards the entrance of the stage with a cane, standing tall in the midsummer heat before the crowds began to gather. He shared with me that he was a retired mechanic and relayed a message he wanted me to share with the former president: “Tell him he’s doing great, bringing the country together, that’s what I know.”
Three hours and six minutes later, as Trump took the stage while the audience watched, this being his second visit to Butler County, he pointed out a chart displayed behind him showing a steady increase in illegal immigration into the United States since his departure in 2021.
“We know that chart’s a little outdated, that chart was from a few months ago,” former President Trump said, briefly shifting his gaze away from the crowd, something he rarely did during his speeches. “If you want to see some real…” he began, gesturing to the right to illustrate the point – at that moment, three muffled shots were heard near Trump.
I was one of the many in the audience standing behind the former president.
My daughter and son-in-law and I stood on the media riser, an area surrounding the stage primarily for photographers, who captured the moment when the gunman fired at Trump.
With Trump only steps away from me, he touched his face, noticing blood trickling into his ear. He crouched down. More shots rang out. Within seconds, Donald Trump was surrounded by fully armed law enforcement, forming a shield around him.
At that moment, a frontline staffer from Trump’s campaign, Michel Picard, pushed me to the ground. The scene was a blur, but I remember being there, my daughter and son-in-law on the ground, while Michel shielded us.
On Sunday, just like the heroic civilian, Corey Comperatore, who was shot and killed defending Trump, people were moved. Corey, a firefighter with family commitments who attended church every Sunday, was hailed as a hero by his wife, saying, “Corey died bravely, he’s a hero” – he selflessly protected his family.
Within moments, I heard a Secret Service agent say, “All clear.” They began instructing the team, “Move, move. You ready?” I overheard Trump asking a Secret Service agent, “Where are my shoes? I need my shoes.” The agent informed the president the gunman had been neutralized.
Trump and the agents stood up simultaneously; his face now streaked with blood. I heard him say, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” raising a fist and making a couple of motions in the air, at least two swings I saw, before being escorted off the stage by the agents, passing by me to the convoy.
His red cap fell to the ground in front of me.
The crowd cheered, “USA! USA!” A woman’s piercing scream cut through the air, shaking hearts, followed by rallying chants. Security ushered those of us on the media riser to a designated secure area, where communication and tech personnel were in tears – Trump, the former President, had been attacked in public, impacting them deeply.
Heroes like Corey Comperatore are not mythical figures. In other words, in western Pennsylvania, residents uphold justice with integrity. On that Saturday, around 50,000 ordinary citizens like Harry Norman flocked to witness Trump speak in the small town of Butler at the border with Ohio.
The majority of the audience at the rally were donning patriotic attire, believing they were contributing to something bigger than themselves. Donald Trump’s greatest gift to the American middle class was conveying to them a sense of importance and visibility. This is why they were willing to endure four hours in 90-degree Fahrenheit heat just to catch a glimpse of the former President and hear his message.
An hour later, at the request of law enforcement on-site, we left the secure area. By then, the venue was cleared. Though I did not witness the audience evacuation process, wallets, phones, and even wheelchairs left behind were evidence of the urgency of the evacuation.
Another hour passed before law enforcement allowed us to leave the parking lot, where something memorable happened: people connected. As news spread that the former President was unharmed, the crowd sighed in relief, raising water bottles in celebration and embracing each other.
Just nine hours prior while driving to the Butler Farm Show Complex, the political significance of Butler was evident. Alongside the road, we passed the Sunnyside Up restaurant connected to a bowling alley, across from which stood newly built homes valued at $500,000. To the east, the Cleveland Cliffs Steel Mill loomed, while to the west, the iconic Mahoning Valley marked between Ohio and East Palestine Village. The two-lane street leading to the venue was packed with lemonade and hot dog stands offering locally made treats. People even paid $20 for parking to avoid the congestion.
This is the heart of America. It may have been pierced, but it is not broken. Donald Trump raising his fist, mirroring the stance of President Ronald Reagan after the 1981 assassination attempt – waving to the crowd from the window, letting them know we will recover from this.
This article originally appeared on RealClearWire website.