Lisa Murkowski: “What Was Advertised to Us”

This is an entirely fictional creative work. It does not represent the actual thoughts, words, or views of any real person. This is satire and literary fiction for entertainment purposes.

March 23, 2026
Lisa Murkowski — Republican U.S. Senator from Alaska and senior GOP appropriations leader

What Was Advertised to Us

March 23, 2026 Sunday night, late.

Vern made halibut. I couldn't eat it. Sat there moving it around the plate and he didn't say anything, which is how I know he's worried. He only goes quiet like that when he thinks I've already made up my mind about something and he's not sure he agrees. Or maybe he does agree and just doesn't want to make it easier for me. Forty years and I still can't always tell.

Tomorrow evening the 48 hours expire. I keep turning that phrase over—"48-hour ultimatum." Like this is a movie. Like there's a screenwriter somewhere who mapped the third act. Except there's no script, and the people who should be writing one—us, Congress—are sitting in the audience watching.

I said what I said today and I meant it. "Completely different level than what had been advertised to us." I chose that word carefully. Advertised. Because that's what it was. We were sold something. Targeted strikes. Degrading nuclear capability. In and out. Limited. Precise. I've sat through enough classified briefings to know the difference between what they tell you and what they're planning, and I should have pressed harder three weeks ago. I know that.

But here's the thing I can't say out loud: I voted against the Democratic resolution not because I thought the war was right. I voted against it because it was the wrong vehicle driven by the wrong people at the wrong time for the wrong reasons. Schumer wanted a headline. He wanted to split us. He wanted ME specifically, my name, my vote, as his trophy. And I will not be somebody's prop. I refuse. So I held the line and I told myself that the responsible path was to work within the conference, engage the administration, get the briefings, and push for an AUMF on our terms.

That was three weeks ago. The briefings have gotten worse, not better. The last one—Thursday—Sullivan wouldn't give a straight answer on troop projections. Just kept circling back to "evolving operational requirements." I asked him directly: are we looking at ground forces in theater beyond what's been disclosed? He said he'd get back to me. He has not gotten back to me.

So now I'm the senator who voted to let this continue and is suddenly concerned. I can already see the editorials. "Murkowski discovers the Constitution." As if I haven't been saying this from the beginning. As if the record doesn't show me raising authorization concerns since week one. But the record doesn't matter as much as the vote, and the vote is what it is.

Dan called after the press hit. Sullivan—our Dan, not the other one. He wasn't angry exactly but I could hear him measuring his words. Said we need to be careful about getting out ahead of leadership on the AUMF language. Said McConnell's office has concerns about timing. I told him I understand the concerns and I share some of them but that I represent Alaska, not leadership, and Alaskans have a right to know their government followed the law before it sent their kids somewhere. He said he agreed with me "in principle." In principle. That phrase is where courage goes to die in this building.

The wind is brutal tonight. You can hear it against the windows even here. Makes me think of home—not Anchorage, but Girdwood, the way the trees sound when a real storm comes through the Turnagain Arm. I miss being a person who just listened to wind without calculating what it means for a news cycle.

I keep coming back to this: if I'd voted yes three weeks ago, would it have made a difference? The resolution would have failed anyway. My vote wouldn't have changed the outcome. But it would have changed what I can say now. It would have given me standing. Instead I have to claw that standing back inch by inch while people question whether I'm serious.

Maybe I'm not being honest enough here. Part of me—a part I don't love—voted no because I didn't want to be Lisa-the-RINO again. Didn't want to be the easy story. Didn't want another cycle of that. And that's not a constitutional argument. That's vanity.

Anyway. AUMF draft language needs to start this week or it's meaningless. I have calls tomorrow at 7. Need to sleep. Probably won't.

AFTER THE CAMERAS is a daily publication of speculative psychological fiction. Each entry imagines the private thoughts of a public figure on the day's biggest story. No entry represents real thoughts, statements, or beliefs of any individual. All internal monologue, emotional reactions, and private observations are entirely invented. External events referenced are real; inner experiences are fictional. All content is created for entertainment purposes only.