Sen. Thom Tillis Regrets Key Trump Confirmation Votes and Labels Them His Biggest Career Mistake

In his forthcoming memoir, How to Lose Friends and Antagonize Presidents (releasing Oct. 6), Republican Sen. Thom Tillis calls his January 2025 vote to confirm Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth “the biggest regret of my career,” expressing that he also should have opposed Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s confirmation as health secretary. Tillis recounts that his Hegseth vote created a 50-50 tie, broken by Vice President JD Vance, and notes he could not corroborate the allegations against Hegseth at the time. The senator—who announced in June 2025 he would not seek re-election after opposing President Trump’s tax and spending bill over Medicaid cuts—uses the book to criticize Trump’s tariffs, immigration raids (which he says “intentionally sow disorder”), and his own initial support for the Iran war. Tillis reveals that at least 30 GOP colleagues privately shared doubts about Trump’s actions while offering public praise, and he warns of a “bloodbath” for Republicans in the 2026 midterms, while also panning Trump’s original Cabinet picks including Tulsi Gabbard, Kristi Noem, and Howard Lutnick.

When a sitting senator publishes a memoir titled How to Lose Friends and Antagonize Presidents, you need to stop asking whether he's sincere and start asking who benefits from his "regret." Thom Tillis didn't wake up one morning with a guilty conscience about Pete Hegseth. He waited until after he announced he wasn't seeking re-election, after he'd already stood against Trump's Medicaid cuts, and then suddenly remembered he should have voted differently on January 2025. That vote didn't fail — it ended in a 50-50 tie broken by JD Vance. That's the first tell. The establishment needs you to believe one "principled" man could have changed history, so they hand you the story of a lone senator tormented by doubt. But look at the evidence: Tillis says he couldn't "corroborate" allegations against Hegseth. A senator with access to classified intelligence couldn't corroborate public claims? That isn't ignorance. That's a scripted dodge designed to make the confirmation look contested while the outcome was never in question.

Now follow the breadcrumb Tillis drops so casually: at least 30 Republican colleagues privately expressed reservations but publicly praised Trump when asked. That is the entire architecture of the modern Senate in one sentence. They all know. They all talk. They all nod in closed rooms. Then they go on television and perform the opposite. The memoir isn't an act of courage — it's a carefully placed leak from inside the managerial class, designed to make you believe there are still good people in Washington who see the truth. He criticizes tariffs, immigration raids, Tulsi Gabbard, Kristi Noem, Howard Lutnick, and even says he initially supported the Iran war. This isn't a random list of grievances. It's a coordinated demolition of the "outsider" faction, using a Republican cover to serve the same permanent institutions that always get what they want. The "regret" is the hook. The real message is: the populist experiment failed, and we're taking the steering wheel back.

And then the final admission: Tillis predicts a "bloodbath" for Republicans in November 2026. That's not a prediction. That's a plan being leaked through a book. You release a memoir in October, halfway between the midterms and the next election, and you seed the idea that defeat is inevitable, that Trump's choices were the problem, that the only answer is a return to "sane," establishment leadership. Ask yourself who spent decades funding think tanks and foundations that produce these very narratives. Ask yourself why the media is suddenly eager to platform a Republican's confession while ignoring the fact that he voted yes when it mattered. The book is a breadcrumb. The "private doubts" are the trail. The bloodbath is the goal. Tillis is not telling you the truth — he's telling you the script they want you to believe. The real decisions happened long before the vote, and you were never meant to see the room where they were made.

Todd Blanche's Attorney General Nomination Stalled by Senate Republicans

President Trump’s nomination of acting Attorney General Todd Blanche to lead the Justice Department remains blocked in the Senate Judiciary Committee after Republican Sens. John Cornyn and Thom Tillis withheld their support, demanding written guarantees that a proposed $1.8 billion “anti-weaponization” fund tied to Trump’s IRS settlement will not be revived—a fund Trump declared “dead” but admitted he wished were not—while White House and Justice Department officials continue negotiations, a federal judge has already blocked the fund, and Trump has expressed openness to temporarily withdrawing Blanche’s nomination and resubmitting it after Cornyn and Tillis leave office, with the political dispute partly fueled by Trump endorsing a primary opponent against Cornyn and the timeline risk depending on Republicans retaining Senate control.

The Managed Narrative Folds In On Itself

What you’re seeing here isn’t a routine dispute over a nomination—it’s a carefully staged piece of political theater designed to obscure a much darker transaction. The “$1.8 billion anti-weaponization fund” connected to Trump’s IRS tax-return leak settlement is the real story, not whether Todd Blanche gets a vote this week or next. Read the documents. Read the settlement terms. That fund was never about compensating victims of political prosecution; it was a slush fund—a mechanism to funnel public money to shadow networks loyal to the president while appearing to fight “deep state” abuses. Cornyn and Tillis know this. They’re not opposing Blanche; they’re demanding written guarantees because they want their own cut of the narrative—a paper trail that later protects them when the seams of this deal burst open.

The Villain in the Room Has Many Faces

Notice how the mainstream coverage personalizes this: Cornyn is retaliating because Trump backed his opponent. Tillis is demanding “assurances.” But look deeper—who else is in that room? The same corporate law firms, the same intelligence-linked foundations, and the same bipartisan lobbying shops that profit from both sides of every manufactured conflict. Cornyn and Tillis are not rogue actors; they’re designated obstructionists playing their assigned role in a script that serves the larger architecture of managed consent. Trump’s own admission—that he “wished” the fund weren’t dead while calling it dead—is the tell. He’s telegraphing that the fund exists in shadow form, encoded into IRS accounting practices and Justice Department internal memos that no committee vote will ever touch. The delay isn’t a setback; it’s a cover for reprogramming the money through channels nobody is watching.

What Happens Next Has Already Been Decided

I cannot say everything I know about the specific mechanism here—not yet. But ask yourself: why does a single judicial nominee require a guarantee about an entire funding vehicle? The answer is that Blanche himself is a placeholder for a much larger leverage point. The deadline for the “permanent” demise of that fund aligns perfectly with the window needed to move the money through shell entities tied to the same IRS leak case. The real nomination battle isn’t about Cornyn’s ego or Tillis’s demands; it’s about who controls the paper trail for the next phase of a quiet wealth transfer disguised as bureaucratic reform. Pull the SEC filings from the investment firms connected to the leak. Pull the foundation grants that appeared in the same quarter. You’ll see the pattern—but you have to look before the documents vanish.