Frederick Christ Trump, III

My Uncle Donald Trump Told Me Disabled Americans Like My Son ‘Should Just Die’

By Fred C. Trump IIIJuly 24, 2024 8:01 AM EDT
Fred C. Trump III is the author of All in the Family: The Trumps and How We Got This Way.

When my uncle was elected President, I recognized what a highly privileged position I would be in. I would have some access to the White House. And as long as that was true, I wanted to make sure I used that access for something positive. I was eager to champion something my wife, Lisa, and I were deeply passionate about, something we lived every day: the challenges for individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities and their families.

Our son William, our third child, was born on June 30, 1999. Within 24 hours, he went from seemingly healthy to fighting for his life in the NICU. Raising him was different from the start. William was diagnosed at three months with infantile spasms, a rare seizure disorder which in William's case altered his development physically and cognitively. We had so many questions: What would the future hold for someone like William? How far could he go? How much could he learn? Would he ever have the chance to do the things that other children do?

We just didn’t know. It took 15 years before his medical team could accurately pinpoint the cause of his condition: a KCNQ2 mutation, a genetic misfire that the doctors called a potassium channel deletion.

In our journey with William, Lisa and I had become close to some truly inspiring parents and dedicated advocates who were doing amazing work to improve the day-to-day reality for families like ours. It’s a huge lift for caregivers, not to mention the constant need to mitigate expenses. There are so many different demands and challenges. But there are things that the government can do—some things that can only be done by the government, both federal and state. We wanted to bring knowledgeable people to the White House, to see if we could make a difference.

Lisa reached out to my cousin Ivanka, who was working in the White House as an advisor to the President. Ivanka got right back to her and said she’d be happy to help. She provided a contact for Ben Carson, the retired neurosurgeon who was secretary of housing and urban development. We brought several talented advocates with us for a meeting with Carson and members of his senior staff in April 2017. “Look,” I said as we got started, “I’m the least important person in the room.” I wanted the focus to be on the others, who knew a lot more than I did. They immediately started floating ideas, which was exactly why we were there. Our collective voice was being heard. It was a start.

In January 2020, just before COVID hit, Lisa, myself, and a team of advocates met with Chris Neeley, who headed the President’s Committee for People with Intellectual Disabilities, a much-needed federal advisory committee that promotes policies and initiatives that support independent and lifelong inclusion. We discussed the need for all medical schools to include courses that focus on people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. We emphasized how crucial it was for hospitals and other acute-care facilities to help patients transition from pediatric to adult services. We emphasized the importance of collecting sufficient data to explain medically complex disorders. This was not about more government spending. It was about smarter investing and greater efficiency.

We spent the next few months making calls and talking with officials and gathering our own recommendations, giving special attention to the critical need for housing support for people with disabilities. We were back in Washington in May.

By this time, COVID was raging. We were all masked up and COVID tested on the way into the White House Cabinet Room. Once we got inside, we sat down with Alex Azar, the administration’s secretary of health and human services, and Brett Giroir, the assistant secretary for health, both of whom served on the White House Coronavirus Task Force. The promising agency motto stated: HHS: Enhancing the Health and Well-Being of All Americans.

I made a brief introduction. Our group included a leading doctor and several highly qualified advocates. What followed was a great discussion. Something clicked with Giroir—an idea for a program everyone could agree on that would cut through the bureaucracy and control costs and also yield better and more efficient medical outcomes.

Excellent. We were making progress.

“Really appreciate your coming in,” Azar finally said, more warmly than he had sounded at the start. “I know we’re going to see the President.”

The meeting I had assumed would be a quick handshake hello with Donald had turned into a 45-minute discussion in the Oval Office with all of us—Azar, Giroir, the advocates, and me. I never expected to be there so long. Donald seemed engaged, especially when several people in our group spoke about the heart-wrenching and expensive efforts they’d made to care for their profoundly disabled family members, who were constantly in and out of the hospital and living with complex arrays of challenges.

Donald was still Donald, of course. He bounced from subject to subject—disability to the stock market and back to disability. But promisingly, Donald seemed genuinely curious regarding the depth of medical needs across the U.S. and the individual challenges these families faced. He told the secretary and the assistant secretary to stay in touch with our group and to be supportive.

After I left the office, I was standing with the others near the side entrance to the West Wing when Donald’s assistant caught up with me. “Your uncle would like to see you,” she said.

Azar was still in the Oval Office when I walked back in. “Hey, pal,” Donald said. “How’s everything going?”

“Good,” I said. “I appreciate your meeting with us.”

“Sure, happy to do it.”

He sounded interested and even concerned. I thought he had been touched by what the doctor and advocates in the meeting had just shared about their journey with their patients and their own family members. But I was wrong.

“Those people . . . ” Donald said, trailing off. “The shape they’re in, all the expenses, maybe those kinds of people should just die.”

I truly did not know what to say. He was talking about expenses. We were talking about human lives. For Donald, I think it really was about the expenses, even though we were there to talk about efficiencies, smarter investments, and human dignity.

I turned and walked away.