It Was Supposed to Be a Shocking Impeachment. Well, It Really Freakin’ Fizzled.

An impeachment trial is supposed to be a big deal. The trial of Homeland Security Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas was anything but. It wasn’t just that it was perhaps the fifth (sixth?) biggest news story in American politics this week (and a far less sensational trial than that of the former president and presumptive Republican nominee, Donald Trump). There was somehow no sense of history or gravitas for what was notionally a momentous occasion—the first impeachment trial of a sitting Cabinet member in American history. Instead, it played out like something else entirely.

The impeachment of Mayorkas originated as a way to appease the unruly House Republicans who approached this Congress with a small majority but a huge appetite for partisan warfare. After going through 15 ballots to first elect Kevin McCarthy in January 2023 and then spending over three weeks in legislative limbo without a speaker after ousting McCarthy in October, an impeachment of the homeland security secretary was an easy way for McCarthy’s replacement, Rep. Mike Johnson, to appease his right. After all, the impeachment investigation into President Joe Biden had come up with little evidence of malfeasance and was far too politically risky. Instead, with the Biden administration struggling to manage a border crisis, Mayorkas made a sufficient substitute. It took multiple votes to do so but eventually the homeland security secretary was impeached by the House in February.

But then House Republicans delayed in sending the impeachment articles to the Senate for nearly two months. And clearly, some of the air was let out of the tires. In that time, their slender majority shrank even further due to resignations, and Johnson became preoccupied with the threat of ouster from Marjorie Taylor Greene (who was also the author of the articles of impeachment against Mayorkas) and began struggling to balance his gavel against the urgent need to send aid to Israel and Ukraine.That drama was coming to a boil on Tuesday when the articles of impeachment were formally transmitted to the Senate.

Still, once they were submitted, the designated 11 impeachment managers led by Mark Green, the chairman of Homeland Security Committee, took part in a solemn procession across the Capitol to the Senate.

Senators waited, biding their time. (Chuck Schumer alternated between making calls on his flip phone and browsing his iPad.) They all listened as the sergeant-at-arms announced “hear ye, hear ye, all persons are commanded to keep silent under pain of imprisonment” during the course of the impeachment trial. And they did—at least on Tuesday—as Chairman Green tediously spent 30 minutes reading the full articles of impeachment from a binder. His fellow House managers stood off to the side, awkwardly shifting their weight at times.

When asked later about what she was thinking at that moment, Rep. Greene told Slate, “I had so many thoughts. One of them is that so many of these senators are so old. That’s shocking to me. Retirement age for most Americans is around 65. It’s like a geriatric center over there in the Senate and that’s not good.” She added that the wallpaper “looked old” too.

The trial occurred around 1:30 p.m. the next day. Perhaps the most notable nod to formality was the appearance of John Fetterman in a full suit, not his customary hoodie. He entered the chamber awkwardly, clutching a can of grapefruit Polar club soda that seemed almost miniature in his hands. In another nod to formality, Fetterman had the club soda poured into a glass. (Drinking out of a can isn’t allowed in the Senate.) Other senators waited for the trial to begin with more productive tasks. Sheldon Whitehouse went through a stack of the same issues of the Economist and attached a sticky note to mark a particular article. (He eventually journeyed over to the Republican side of the chamber to hand out copies of the magazine to his colleagues.) Others came prepared for downtime. Michael Bennet of Colorado had a thick book on U.S. engagement with Asia on his desk while his Colorado colleague John Hickenlooper had what appeared to be a sudoku puzzle clipped out of a newspaper.

The end result was never in doubt. Senate Republicans held a press conference the day before preemptively bashing Chuck Schumer for quashing the trial. They argued it would be a terrible precedent for a Senate majority to simply avoid a trial mandated by the Constitution. But, with Democrats united along party lines, the first impeachment trial in American history of a sitting Cabinet officeholder was summarily dismissed.

Schumer stood to offer a preemptive deal that would allow for some time for debate on the impeachment. This required all 100 senators to agree. All 100 senators did not. Eric Schmitt of Missouri rose to block it. “I’m not going to participate in lighting the Constitution on fire and 200 years of precedent,” he said. Immediately, Schumer followed by raising a point of order that the first of the two articles of impeachment was unconstitutional because “it does not allege conduct that rises to the level of a high crime or misdemeanor.” This was not followed by a vote, which led to some confusion. (Ed Markey of Massachusetts turned to his colleague from Hawaii, Brian Schatz: “Can you explain to me procedurally what is going on?”) Others seemed more focused on snacks. Jon Tester procured a bag of M&M’s from the desk of his colleague Cory Booker. Glasses of milk, which are only allowed in the Senate during impeachment trials, appeared on the desk of Roger Marshall of Kansas and John Kennedy of Louisiana. (Joe Manchin would later have a glass himself to accompany what appeared to be a chocolate-covered cookie).

Republicans gathered in clusters on the Senate floor trying to figure out what their next steps would be. Democrats started wandering about the floor as Schumer, seated at his center aisle perch, urged his caucus to “stay in your seats” to little effect.

Eventually, Republicans settled on a plan. They would make various motions dragging things out. After three procedural votes, Schumer’s first point of order was finally voted on, and by a nearly party line vote, the first article of impeachment was nullified.

The same process then began on the second of the two articles. Schumer offered a point of order declaring that it was unconstitutional and Republicans dragged out the process. At this point, less than two hours into the trail, members could be spotted at times in hysterics on the floor as they chitchatted with each other. Everyone laughed when Kennedy, attempting to adjourn the trial for two weeks, accidentally suggested May 1, 2004, instead of May 1, 2024. When this was corrected, he said, “2004 would probably be preferable, but I’d accept a friendly amendment that we make it 2024.” It was offered but went down on party lines. Occasionally as the procedural votes dragged on, a stray senator would vote the wrong way by accident and have to quickly correct it. On one vote, Lindsey Graham, distracted in conversation with Cory Booker, voted aye when he meant to vote nay. He quickly corrected himself but Booker mugged to the chamber in reaction to the South Carolina Republican’s accidental vote with Democrats.

Eventually, Republicans ran out of motions and, after three hours, the impeachment trial was over. Senators streamed out of the chamber to celebrate the outcome or rail against the result. In a brief press conference, Schumer discussed how important it was to short-circuit the trial. “We felt very strongly that we had to set a precedent that impeachment should never be used to settle policy disagreements.” In contrast, Josh Hawley of Missouri mourned afterward that “this is akin to blowing up the filibuster in terms of the precedent it sets.”

Perhaps the most succinct verdict came from Democratic Sen. Chris Murphy of Connecticut when asked how Mayorkas’ trial compared to his experience sitting through the two impeachments of Donald Trump in 2020 and 2021. “I don’t think this one will make my memoirs,” he said.