On Saturday, a gunman tried to kill Donald Trump. I’ve listened to the audio of the shooting. The shots popped. The crowd sounded confused. There were shouts. A few screams. It was a moment, maybe two. And then Trump stood up, pumped his fist into the air. And then the confusion was replaced by a roar of cheers, and chants of USA USA USA USA USA. Trump was alive, but a husband and father had been killed. Two others were injured.