The Rise and Fall of Congress' Snapchat King: A Tragedy in 72 Hours

California Congressman Eric Swalwell learned that social media follies and sexual assault allegations don't mix, even on disappearing photo apps

Published: April 19, 2026 | Updated: April 14, 2026

What Happened

In what may be the fastest congressional implosion since Anthony Weiner accidentally tweeted his junk to the entire world, California Rep. Eric Swalwell resigned from Congress on Monday, April 14, 2026, after facing an imminent expulsion vote prompted by sexual misconduct allegations. The 72-hour collapse of his political career was so sudden and catastrophic that it left even seasoned Capitol Hill observers stunned.

Swalwell, once known as the "Snapchat King of Congress" for his obsessive use of the ephemeral messaging platform to communicate with constituents and staffers, allegedly used that same platform to send unsolicited explicit photos of his genitalia to multiple women he had met in professional settings. Because, apparently, when you're a U.S. congressman representing California's 13th district, the natural progression of career development is to figure out how to message your penis to people via disappearing photographs.

The allegations came to a head when Lonna Drewes, a Beverly Hills woman, held a press conference on Monday morning and accused Swalwell of drugging and raping her in July 2018, telling reporters she "did not consent to any sexual activity." The Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department Special Victims Bureau immediately opened an investigation into the allegations. Within hours, the House was preparing an expulsion vote, and Swalwell—recognizing that his career was effectively over—resigned before his colleagues could humiliate him by actually voting him out.

A special election to fill his vacant seat was called for August 18, 2026, leaving California's 13th district without representation during what is shaping up to be a uniquely catastrophic election cycle.

But Swalwell's resignation didn't end the story. It merely opened the floodgates.

The Aftermath: A Wider Culture of Congressional Stupidity

What made the Swalwell scandal particularly noteworthy wasn't just the allegations themselves—Congress has weathered sex scandals before—but what it revealed about a broader culture of misconduct that has apparently been operating in plain sight on Capitol Hill for years. Multiple current and former female staffers told the Los Angeles Times that they had been informally warning one another about lawmakers with reputations for inappropriate conduct for years. The problem? These whispered warnings, passed between junior aides in hushed tones, were never "official" enough to trigger investigations.

Rep. Anna Paulina Luna, a Florida Republican, told reporters that young staffers had been talking about Swalwell's conduct for years. "I think that many people knew about this for a while," Luna said. Meanwhile, Sen. Ruben Gallego of Arizona, one of Swalwell's closest friends in Congress, admitted to reporters that he should have confronted his buddy about the rumors. "You let your guard down. I let him into my circle. … I deeply regret it," Gallego said, while still insisting he never witnessed any predatory behavior.

One former legislative aide described a casual but pervasive culture where female staffers would privately warn each other about "sleazy" lawmakers—behavior that was viewed as unprofessional and boundary-crossing but existed in a legal gray area that prevented many victims from coming forward publicly.

In other words: Congress has known about this stuff for years and did nothing.

Why This Matters

The Swalwell resignation and the revelations that followed it illustrate a fundamental problem with American democracy: Congress is populated by elected officials who operate in a bubble where normal accountability doesn't exist. Swalwell, a sitting congressman who allegedly sent explicit images to women he knew professionally and was credibly accused of rape, only fell from power because the allegations became public and a formal expulsion vote was imminent. The informal warnings that had circulated among congressional staffers for years were apparently not enough to trigger serious investigations or career consequences.

This is a broader indictment of how power operates in Washington. Congressional staffers—many of whom are young, ambitious, and financially dependent on their jobs—aren't in a position to report the misconduct of their bosses without risking their careers. So instead, they warn each other and move on. The misconduct persists until either a formal allegation surfaces or someone decides it's politically expedient to make it public.

Furthermore, Swalwell's alleged use of Snapchat to send explicit images represents a particularly stupid variation on an old theme: powerful men abusing their position to proposition, harass, and assault women with impunity. The fact that he used a "disappearing photos" app makes it even worse, because he was essentially trying to cover his tracks while committing the harassment.

The resignation also exposed how fragmented and incompetent Congress is at handling its own internal conduct. When allegations surfaced, the response wasn't a serious investigation or institutional accountability—it was an expulsion vote and a resignation. That's not justice; that's damage control.

Finally, the scandal highlights the hypocrisy of a Congress that has publicly supported transparency and accountability in cases like Jeffrey Epstein's network while simultaneously allowing its own members to engage in sexual misconduct with minimal consequences for years.

What Comes Next?

The immediate question is whether the Swalwell scandal will prompt a broader reckoning on Capitol Hill. The Los Angeles Times reported that both Democrats and Republicans are aware of numerous other lawmakers facing questions about alleged misconduct, but it remains unclear whether any formal investigations will follow. Politico noted that Republicans are already calling for scrutiny of other lawmakers—a politically convenient move, given that several Republicans also face allegations.

The longer-term question is whether Congress will actually implement systemic reforms to prevent this kind of behavior. History suggests the answer is no. Congress has proven singularly incompetent at holding itself accountable, preferring instead to sweep scandals under the rug, wait for public attention to move on, and then continue business as usual.

Swalwell will be remembered as the congressman who was too stupid to understand that sending explicit images to women was inappropriate, or too delusional to think he could get away with it using Snapchat of all things. But the real stupid shit in this story isn't just Swalwell's behavior—it's a system that allowed it to persist for years before finally, belatedly, taking action.

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