![]() Inside the hotel, two blocks from the White House, Alex Jones was riding the elevator with a female companion and a bodyguard. It was November 2020, and even as the Washington Post’s front page had just announced a second surge of the coronavirus, tens of thousands of people were gathered, mostly maskless, swarming downtown D.C. He was talking on the phone (“Don’t worry, I’ll send you bodies”) greeting well-wishers (“A great day for patriots and a terrible day for the fake news”) and fretting about a speech to the crowd he hadn’t yet written. Dustin Stockton stood in a throng of thousands of people near the Willard Hotel in Washington, D.C., nursing an American Spirit cigarette and a Red Bull.
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