They sat around the long table in the conference room in brown leather chairs, served quinoa salad with roasted chicken before waiters brought in macarons. Graham asked instead for his standing dessert order when flying on Air Force One: strawberries and cream.
The president came down when they were finished eating and stood at the head of the table, where he chatted with them for most of the flight. Graham and McIntosh, who had exchanged strategy notes before the flight, tried to shake him out of his mood.
"Look — if they win, you'll be vindicated," McIntosh said, pleading with Trump to offer a full-throated endorsement of Loeffler and Perdue. "Everyone knows that if they win, you'll get the credit for putting them over the top. And it'll show that in an election where they don't cheat, Republicans win."
Trump disagreed: "No, they won't, David. They'll blame me if we lose. But if we win, they won't give me the credit."
Graham tried another tactic: "This is about your legacy, Mr. President."
"We've got to win these so that the Democrats can't unwind your legacy on everything from the courts to the economic policies to your work with China," Graham insisted.
At one point in the flight, Trump pulled McIntosh into his private office cabin to sign an autograph for McIntosh’s personal trainer, an avid supporter of the president. McIntosh tried to open a conversation about the future. "Mr. President, you know, if it doesn't turn out..."
Trump interrupted, by asking: "What do you think my odds are?" — referring, 62 days after the election, to his chances of serving a second term. McIntosh leveled, "It doesn't look great, sir." Trump agreed, "Yeah, that's probably right."
"Mr. President, if it doesn't work out, will you run again?" McIntosh asked. Trump's response was a rare and transitory blip from his usual strident pose. "Yeah, I'm thinking about that," he said. "But you know, I'm going to be four years older."
In Dalton, Trump stepped out onto the stage with his wife, pointing, smiling, waving, and clapping, as Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the U.S.A." blared. He was in his element, and the crowd went wild.
Less than 48 hours after Trump's Georgia rally, both races had been called for the Democrats, Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff. The Republicans had lost control of the Senate.
Trump was right that everyone would blame him. After all, he had spent months puncturing confidence in the voting system, turning his fire on Georgia’s own GOP leadership, and obsessing over states that he had lost fair and square.
He had allowed outsiders and conspiracists to supplant the professionals around him. He had fed a national sense of mistrust, rage and despair. Georgia was the last state where Trump would take his stand.
He was about to incinerate his legacy. Within 24 hours, the feral ground troops the president had summoned to execute his fantasy of overturning the election would storm the steps of the U.S. Capitol.