More than 200 donors to Eric Swalwell's California gubernatorial campaign are demanding refunds totaling over $1.5 million after multiple women accused the former Democratic congressman of sexual assault, and the donors who once bankrolled his ambitions are finding it difficult to get their money back.
An internal campaign document reviewed by the San Francisco Chronicle shows the scale of the financial revolt, Fox News Digital reported. The refund demands come as Swalwell clings to roughly $4 million in remaining campaign funds, money he now controls directly after making himself treasurer of his own defunct campaign committee.
The numbers tell a grim story for Swalwell. His campaign sat on about $4 million in cash when women first began coming forward with allegations in early April. He then suspended his gubernatorial bid, resigned from Congress, and still managed to solicit nearly $200,000 in new donations after news of the alleged assaults broke, the New York Post reported. Now more than 200 of his backers want out, and the man holding the checkbook is the same man facing the accusations.
The first four women to accuse Swalwell of sexual misconduct described a range of alleged conduct. One woman alleges rape. Others say he sent them unwanted explicit images. Another claims he kissed and touched her without consent.
On April 14, former model Lonna Drewes held a press conference in Beverly Hills with attorneys Lisa Bloom and Arick Fudali. Drewes described what she says happened in stark terms:
"He raped me. And he choked me. And while he was choking me, I lost consciousness. And I thought I died."
Drewes also described the lasting damage:
"It had a profound impact on my mental health. I self-medicated it in an unhealthy way. I did not want to live anymore."
That same day, April 14, Swalwell announced his intention to resign from the House of Representatives. A fifth woman came forward the following day to accuse him of rape.
Swalwell has denied all accusations of sexual assault. In a statement, he said:
"These allegations of sexual assault are flat false. They did not happen, they have never happened and I will fight them with everything that I have... I have certainly made mistakes in my judgement in my past, but those mistakes are between me and my wife."
That carefully worded denial, acknowledging unspecified "mistakes in my judgement" while categorically denying assault, leaves plenty of daylight for interpretation. Voters and donors alike are drawing their own conclusions.
The financial picture around Swalwell's collapsed campaign raises its own questions. Campaign filings show he installed himself as treasurer of the campaign committee after it imploded, giving him direct control over what remains of the war chest. Fox News Digital reached the Swalwell campaign on a Thursday for comment and received no response.
Swalwell is now relying on those remaining campaign funds to pay the attorney defending him against the sexual assault claims. California state law requires that campaign funds spent on legal expenses must be directly related to an individual's status as an elected official or candidate. Jessica Levinson, a professor at Loyola Law School, told the Chronicle that Swalwell will likely argue the women came forward because he was running for governor, thereby justifying the legal spending as campaign-related.
That argument may face scrutiny. If Swalwell is found liable for sexual misconduct, the Chronicle reported, he may be required to reimburse his donors. The question is whether there will be anything left to reimburse them with.
Federal disclosures paint a picture of a man carrying significant personal debt. Swalwell has up to $100,000 in student loans, between $30,000 and $100,000 in credit card debt, and a mortgage on which he owes up to $5 million. Those obligations raise the stakes of the refund fight considerably, for Swalwell and for the donors who want their money back.
The New York Post detailed the confusion surrounding the refund process, reporting that former campaign staffers themselves lack clear guidance. "We have not received an authorized procedure or clear direction on the refund process," one former staffer wrote. Comedian Kathy Griffin, who apparently managed to recover her contribution, said on her podcast: "I'm very proud I was able to get the donation back from Swalwell-world."
Perhaps the most vivid sign of the fallout came from Stephen Cloobeck, a resort mogul who gave $1 million to a super PAC supporting Swalwell's gubernatorial bid. Cloobeck told the Post he was finished, not just with Swalwell, but with the Democratic Party entirely.
"I am no longer supporting Eric. F---ing tell everyone I'm a libertarian. F--- you, Democrat Party. I'm a libertarian now. I'm going to change my Godd--- party affiliation, because I cannot stand this Democratic Party at all. I am done. Finito."
Cloobeck's reaction, profane, furious, and public, captures a broader frustration. Donors gave money to a candidate they believed in. Now they're watching that money fund legal bills for a man accused of assault by five women, with no clear path to getting it back.
Swalwell is hardly the only Democrat whose political career has collapsed under the weight of personal scandal. An Oklahoma Democrat recently ended his re-election bid after sending an AI deepfake of himself kissing a woman, another reminder of how quickly misconduct can unravel a campaign.
Swalwell's exit from California's primary has reshaped the race. His departure helped Democrats narrow the field, reducing the chance that two Republicans could advance to the general election. Under California's jungle primary system, the top two vote-getters move forward regardless of party, meaning a crowded Democratic field risked splitting the left-of-center vote and handing both general-election slots to the GOP.
That structural benefit to Democrats is an uncomfortable irony. The party gains a tactical advantage from a candidate's departure under sexual assault allegations. No one in Democratic leadership appears eager to discuss that trade-off.
The broader pattern of Democratic figures facing financial scrutiny continues to grow. Rep. Ilhan Omar recently amended her financial disclosure after GOP pressure exposed discrepancies, slashing her reported assets from millions to under $100,000. When the party's leaders face questions about money and transparency, the answers rarely come quickly or cleanly.
Meanwhile, intra-party battles for power continue to roil Democratic politics across California and beyond, with ambitious progressives jockeying for influence even as scandals thin the ranks of viable candidates.
Several questions remain unanswered. What legal proceedings, if any, are pending against Swalwell? Which attorney is being paid from campaign funds, and how much has been spent so far? What specific California statute governs whether those legal payments are permissible? And what recourse do donors actually have if Swalwell refuses to return their money voluntarily?
Fox News Digital reported that Swalwell is reportedly under investigation by multiple authorities, though the details remain unclear. The campaign's silence, no response to a request for comment, does nothing to reassure the 200-plus donors who feel misled.
The Swalwell saga is a case study in what happens when political donors trust a candidate and that trust is shattered. More than 200 people wrote checks because they believed in a man's vision for California. Now they're watching him use their money to defend himself against accusations from five women, while he sits alone atop the campaign treasury, answering to no one.
Accountability isn't just something politicians owe voters on Election Day. It's something they owe the people who funded their ambitions, especially when those ambitions end in disgrace.