A passionate historian and travel writer specializing in Italian cultural heritage and ancient Roman history.
When plans were revealed for Donald Trump’s upcoming official trip, complete with a Windsor Castle banquet on September 17th, 2025, the protest group known as Led By Donkeys felt compelled not to let it pass unprotested. The act of offering a lavish welcome seemed particularly craven. Their subsequent art-activist event unfolded like clockwork.
Activists created a nine-minute film detailing Donald Trump’s relationship with the late financier Jeffrey Epstein. It concluded: “The president of the United States is alleged to have been a longstanding associate of the nation's most infamous sex offender. His name is said to be referenced, repeatedly, in the files from the investigation into that individual … Now that very man, Donald Trump, is a guest in Windsor Castle.” (In response, Trump has stated he ended his friendship with Epstein years before Epstein’s first arrest and has consistently denied any wrongdoing concerning Epstein.)
The group had secured rooms in the nearby Harte and Garter hotel, rooms advertised with views of the castle and, more crucially, “castle view superior”, according to a co-founder, Ben Stewart. They utilized a high-lumen projector. To broadcast sound, Stewart placed a wireless speaker, hidden inside a cereal box, atop a public rubbish bin outside.
The world’s media had gathered, staring at the castle, becoming bored awaiting Trump's arrival. Their film, spread rapidly everywhere. “Although the still pictures of Epstein and Trump spread like wildfire online,” Stewart notes, “I’m not sure that convinces people of anything – it just makes Trump uncomfortable. The film we made gives people something tangible to share, saying: ‘This is something significant to look at here.’ We took a piece of guerrilla journalism about Trump and Epstein, and it was viewed 20m times.”
It started with the official Windsor Castle logo. “Projecting onto a cylindrical building requires a little bit of mapping,” Stewart states. “So there’s this royal crest. The police likely thought: ‘How pleasant – a royal tribute,’ and then abruptly a massive image of Jeffrey Epstein materializes. A wave of shock passed through the police in fluorescent jackets around me, and they raced into the hotel.”
This was not their inaugural action; nor was it their first action targeting Trump. Back in 2018, during his time with Greenpeace, Stewart had flown a motorized paraglider near the hotel where the then-president was staying during a visit to Turnberry. The following year, officers warned him that if he tried again, his safety wasn't assured.
But, the activists were not overly concerned about detainment. “All my anxiety goes into ensuring the action to succeed,” says Oliver Knowles, a fellow founder. “By the time the police make the intervention, the die is cast.” Officers was swift, arriving in the lobby in under three minutes, highly agitated, he remembers. “They were in tactical gear and caps. They’d finally found some protesters. They came roaring up the stairs; they were briefed; they were on a mission to safeguard the guest. Fortunately, no firearms. But they were very adrenalised when they entered the room. I told them: ‘We should keep this really calm.’”
Stalling multiple police officers is a long time. It helped that officers were unsure which law to make arrests. When they finally entered the room, “a policeman started reading a clause of the Town and Country Planning Act, before another told him to stop as it was incorrect.” Knowles and three additional activists were then arrested for malicious communications, a stalking law. “The law is precise: its purpose is to deal with a really concerning offence. Applying it to an act of journalism, displayed on a wall, to protect the reputation of the president, appeared contrary to the intent of the legislation,” Stewart remarks pointedly. While the others were detained, he slipped away, shortly thereafter boarded a train leaving Windsor, calling lawyers.
Later that night, as the detainees were in the cells at Maidenhead police station, officers came in and re-arrested them, now for causing a public nuisance, having decided a stronger charge. During interrogation, the sole available interrogators belonged to the child protection squad – a twist that was palpable, given the focus of the protest involved alleged sex offender. The activists responded to all queries with: “No comment.” A few minutes into the interview, police presented a photo: “‘Mr Knowles, did you remove the drawer from this bedside table?’ ‘No comment.’ ‘Sir, do you know anybody else who may have had reason to remove the drawer?’ ‘No comment.’ I anticipated the next move: a picture of a giant projector, secured to several drawers. Then, the officers were finding it hard to keep a straight face.”
A little more than one month later, all charges were dropped.
A passionate historian and travel writer specializing in Italian cultural heritage and ancient Roman history.