The man who shot President Ronald Reagan in 1981 told TMZ on Sunday that the Washington Hilton Hotel is simply not safe for large gatherings, a claim that carries an uncomfortable weight given who is making it. John Hinckley, who opened fire on Reagan outside that same hotel more than four decades ago, said the shooting at Saturday night's White House Correspondents' Dinner struck him as "spooky" because it took place at the same hotel as his did.
Hinckley urged the hotel to stop holding big events there "because bad things keep happening." He added bluntly that "it's just not a secure place to hold big events."
Whatever one thinks of the messenger, and there is plenty of reason to think poorly of him, the underlying question is fair. The Washington Hilton was the site of an assassination attempt on a sitting president in March 1981. Now, more than 44 years later, an alleged gunman identified as Cole Allen fired several shots in the hotel lobby near the ballroom while President Trump, cabinet officials, the First Lady, and members of the media were gathered for the annual dinner. Secret Service agents returned fire. One agent was struck by a bullet but escaped injury thanks to a bulletproof vest. Allen was promptly arrested and faces serious federal charges.
The fact that the same building has now been the scene of two major shootings tied to presidential events is not a coincidence anyone should wave away.
Hinckley told TMZ he described security at the Washington Hilton in 1981 as "lax." He recalled joining a crowd of reporters waiting outside the hotel for Reagan to exit after delivering a speech. Secret Service agents, he said, never checked whether he was actually a reporter during their sweeps. He shot Reagan and three other people that day in what became one of the most infamous assassination attempts in American history.
Hinckley was quickly arrested. He was later found not guilty by reason of insanity and spent over 34 years in a mental hospital before gaining back his freedom. He recently wrote a memoir titled "John Hinckley Jr.: Who I Really Am," published by WildBlue Press.
That a would-be presidential assassin now walks free, publishes books, and fields media calls about the latest shooting at the very hotel where he nearly killed a president is a peculiar feature of American life. But Hinckley's personal history does not invalidate the security concerns he raised, concerns that others with far cleaner records have echoed.
FOX News reporter Bill Melugin slammed the security measures at the White House Correspondents' Dinner event. Writing on X, Melugin said his name was not checked against any list, he did not have to show identification, and he did not go through a metal detector. Those are extraordinary lapses for a gathering that included the president of the United States, senior cabinet officials, and the First Lady, all under one roof.
The details Melugin described paint a picture of an event where the trappings of prestige far outpaced the basics of physical security. Metal detectors are standard at high school football games. The notion that a dinner attended by the president could skip that step is difficult to square with any serious threat assessment. As previously reported, one Secret Service agent's phone may have stopped a bullet during the attack, a detail that underscores how close the situation came to catastrophe.
Hinckley himself noted the parallel. He said he first learned about the Saturday night shooting from a newsflash on his phone, then turned on the television. The man who exploited lax security at the Washington Hilton in 1981 watched in real time as someone allegedly did something similar in the same building decades later.
The Washington Hilton has long been a fixture of the D.C. political calendar. The White House Correspondents' Dinner is its marquee event, drawing presidents, press, and celebrities. But the hotel's history carries a shadow that organizers and security planners have apparently not taken seriously enough.
In March 1981, Hinckley blended into a press gaggle outside the building and opened fire on Reagan. Four people were hit. The security failure was severe enough to reshape Secret Service protocols for a generation. Yet here, more than four decades later, a reporter attending the same hotel's signature event says he walked in without showing ID or passing through a metal detector.
The shooting Saturday night unfolded in the lobby near the ballroom. Allen allegedly fired several shots. Secret Service agents engaged and returned fire. One agent took a round to the vest. Allen was arrested on the spot and now faces serious federal charges. The specific charges have not been detailed publicly in available reporting.
In the aftermath, a massive security operation was mounted for the subsequent visit of King Charles to Washington, a sign that officials recognized the gravity of what had just happened, even if that recognition came after the fact.
It is easy to dismiss Hinckley's commentary. He is, after all, a man who tried to assassinate a president. His opinions on hotel security carry a moral asterisk that no memoir or media interview can erase.
But the substance of what he said aligns with what Melugin reported and what the shooting itself demonstrated. The Washington Hilton hosted an event with the president and his senior team. The security perimeter apparently did not include basic credential verification or metal detectors for at least some attendees. And an alleged gunman got close enough to fire multiple rounds in the lobby.
President Trump praised the press and commended the WHCA president in the shooting's aftermath, a response that focused on unity rather than recrimination. But unity after a crisis does not substitute for accountability before the next one.
The pattern Hinckley identified, "bad things keep happening" at that hotel, is not a theory. It is a factual observation spanning more than four decades. The 1981 shooting reshaped how the Secret Service thought about presidential movement. Saturday night's shooting should force a similar reckoning about how Washington's political establishment approaches event security at high-profile venues.
Melugin's account is particularly damning. No name check. No ID. No metal detector. If those details are accurate, the question is not whether the Washington Hilton is a secure venue. The question is why anyone in a position of responsibility treated it as one.
The federal government has spent billions on security infrastructure since 1981. Threat environments have grown more complex. The Secret Service has expanded its protective mission. And yet, at an annual dinner that draws the president, the cabinet, and hundreds of journalists to a hotel already synonymous with political violence, basic screening measures were apparently absent for at least some guests.
The cell phone that may have saved an agent's life is a story of individual luck, not institutional competence. A bulletproof vest stopped another round. Those outcomes are fortunate. They are not evidence that the system worked.
Hinckley described 1981 security as "lax." Melugin described Saturday night's security in terms that sound remarkably similar. The venue is the same. The failures rhyme. The only difference is that in 1981, no one had the benefit of hindsight. In 2026, organizers had more than four decades of it, and the lessons apparently did not stick.
Violent incidents connected to political figures and government security personnel are not confined to one hotel or one era. The case of a former Biden security staffer charged in a killing is a reminder that threats can emerge from within the security apparatus itself. The common thread is a political culture that treats safety as a box to check rather than a mission to execute.
When the man who shot Ronald Reagan tells you a building isn't safe, you can question his standing. But when a Fox News reporter's firsthand account and a lobby full of gunfire back him up, the problem isn't the messenger. It's the people who keep hosting presidents in a building where the welcome mat has twice doubled as a shooting gallery.
