Stephen Richer and Steve Davis were once inseparable—two close friends bound not only by shared political ideals but also by an unwavering admiration for Elon Musk. Their friendship, forged over years of collaboration, late-night dinners, and long conversations about the future of technology and democracy, seemed unshakable. But that all changed when one lie—repeated loudly and publicly—broke the silence between them.
Both Richer and Davis rose through the ranks of Arizona politics and business, often finding themselves on the same side of debates around innovation, election modernization, and free speech. Their mutual respect for Musk stemmed from his bold vision: space exploration, clean energy, and a disruptive attitude toward institutions they both believed were bloated and outdated.
But following the 2020 presidential election, Musk began tweeting about voter fraud—echoing baseless conspiracy theories that had already been debunked by courts, election officials, and cybersecurity experts. One tweet in particular accused Maricopa County, where Richer serves as the Recorder, of manipulating votes through software irregularities. The accusation was not only false, but personal.
Richer, a Republican who has consistently defended the integrity of Arizona’s elections, responded publicly and passionately. “It’s dangerous,” he wrote. “Musk has 100 million followers, and his careless words put election workers and democracy itself at risk.”
Steve Davis, however, remained silent.
Davis, a longtime advisor to Musk in the business and tech world, refused to comment. Privately, he expressed doubts, even discomfort. But publicly, he did not challenge Musk. For Richer, that silence cut deeper than any tweet.
“It wasn’t just that Steve didn’t speak up,” Richer later told a reporter. “It was that he knew the truth, and he still let the lie stand.”
The silence grew. The dinners stopped. Messages went unanswered. A once-solid friendship dissolved in the fog of political misinformation and personal disappointment.
Richer has since become an outspoken advocate for election transparency and has testified before Congress about the real-world impacts of disinformation. Davis, meanwhile, has stayed close to Musk and rarely comments on politics. When asked about Richer, he reportedly said, “We just grew apart.”
Their story is not unique in a polarized America, but it’s a stark example of how truth—once a shared value—can become a dividing line. In an age where loyalty is tested not by facts but by fealty, even the deepest bonds can fracture.
For Richer and Davis, what was once a friendship built on shared dreams now lingers in silence, haunted by the echo of a lie.
