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Former US Vice President Dick Cheney dead at 84

04 November 2025
This content originally appeared on Trinidad Guardian.
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Dick Ch­eney, the hard-charg­ing con­ser­v­a­tive who be­came one of the most pow­er­ful and po­lar­is­ing vice pres­i­dents in U.S. his­to­ry and a lead­ing ad­vo­cate for the in­va­sion of Iraq, has died at age 84.

Ch­eney died Mon­day night due to com­pli­ca­tions of pneu­mo­nia and car­diac and vas­cu­lar dis­ease, ac­cord­ing to a state­ment from his fam­i­ly.

“For decades, Dick Ch­eney served our na­tion, in­clud­ing as White House Chief of Staff, Wyoming’s Con­gress­man, Sec­re­tary of De­fence, and Vice Pres­i­dent of the Unit­ed States,” the state­ment said. ““Dick Ch­eney was a great and good man who taught his chil­dren and grand­chil­dren to love our coun­try, and to live lives of courage, ho­n­our, love, kind­ness, and fly fish­ing. We are grate­ful be­yond mea­sure for all Dick Ch­eney did for our coun­try. And we are blessed be­yond mea­sure to have loved and been loved by this no­ble gi­ant of a man.”

The qui­et­ly force­ful Ch­eney served fa­ther and son pres­i­dents, lead­ing the armed forces as de­fence chief dur­ing the Per­sian Gulf War un­der Pres­i­dent George H.W. Bush be­fore re­turn­ing to pub­lic life as vice pres­i­dent un­der Bush’s son, George W. Bush.

Ch­eney was, in ef­fect, the chief op­er­at­ing of­fi­cer of the younger Bush’s pres­i­den­cy. He had a hand, of­ten a com­mand­ing one, in im­ple­ment­ing de­ci­sions most im­por­tant to the pres­i­dent and some of sur­pass­ing in­ter­est to him­self — all while liv­ing with decades of heart dis­ease and, post-ad­min­is­tra­tion, a heart trans­plant. Ch­eney con­sis­tent­ly de­fend­ed the ex­tra­or­di­nary tools of sur­veil­lance, de­ten­tion and in­qui­si­tion em­ployed in re­sponse to the ter­ror­ist at­tacks of Sept. 11, 2001.

Years af­ter leav­ing of­fice, he be­came a tar­get of Pres­i­dent Don­ald Trump, es­pe­cial­ly af­ter daugh­ter Liz Ch­eney be­came the lead­ing Re­pub­li­can crit­ic and ex­am­in­er of Trump’s des­per­ate at­tempts to stay in pow­er af­ter his elec­tion de­feat and his ac­tions in the Jan. 6, 2021, ri­ot at the Capi­tol.

“In our na­tion’s 246-year his­to­ry, there has nev­er been an in­di­vid­ual who was a greater threat to our re­pub­lic than Don­ald Trump,” Ch­eney said in a tele­vi­sion ad for his daugh­ter. “He tried to steal the last elec­tion us­ing lies and vi­o­lence to keep him­self in pow­er af­ter the vot­ers had re­ject­ed him. He is a cow­ard.”

In a twist the De­moc­rats of his era could nev­er have imag­ined, Dick Ch­eney said last year he was vot­ing for their can­di­date, Ka­mala Har­ris, for pres­i­dent against Trump.

A sur­vivor of five heart at­tacks, Ch­eney long thought he was liv­ing on bor­rowed time and de­clared in 2013 he now awoke each morn­ing “with a smile on my face, thank­ful for the gift of an­oth­er day,” an odd im­age for a fig­ure who al­ways seemed to be man­ning the ram­parts.

His vice pres­i­den­cy de­fined by the age of ter­ror­ism, Ch­eney dis­closed that he had had the wire­less func­tion of his de­fib­ril­la­tor turned off years ear­li­er out of fear ter­ror­ists would re­mote­ly send his heart a fa­tal shock.

In his time in of­fice, no longer was the vice pres­i­den­cy mere­ly a cer­e­mo­ni­al af­ter­thought. In­stead, Ch­eney made it a net­work of back chan­nels from which to in­flu­ence pol­i­cy on Iraq, ter­ror­ism, pres­i­den­tial pow­ers, en­er­gy and oth­er cor­ner­stones of a con­ser­v­a­tive agen­da.

Fixed with a seem­ing­ly per­ma­nent half-smile — de­trac­tors called it a smirk — Ch­eney joked about his out­size rep­u­ta­tion as a stealthy ma­nip­u­la­tor.

“Am I the evil ge­nius in the cor­ner that no­body ever sees come out of his hole?” he asked. “It’s a nice way to op­er­ate, ac­tu­al­ly.”

A hard-lin­er on Iraq who was in­creas­ing­ly iso­lat­ed as oth­er hawks left gov­ern­ment, Ch­eney was proved wrong on point af­ter point in the Iraq War, with­out ever los­ing the con­vic­tion that he was es­sen­tial­ly right.

He al­leged links be­tween the 2001 at­tacks against the Unit­ed States and pre­war Iraq that didn’t ex­ist. He said U.S. troops would be wel­comed as lib­er­a­tors; they weren’t.

He de­clared the Iraqi in­sur­gency in its last throes in May 2005, back when 1,661 U.S. ser­vice mem­bers had been killed, not even half the toll by war’s end.

For ad­mir­ers, he kept the faith in a shaky time, res­olute even as the na­tion turned against the war and the lead­ers wag­ing it.

But well in­to Bush’s sec­ond term, Ch­eney’s clout waned, checked by courts or shift­ing po­lit­i­cal re­al­i­ties.

Courts ruled against ef­forts he cham­pi­oned to broad­en pres­i­den­tial au­thor­i­ty and ac­cord spe­cial harsh treat­ment to sus­pect­ed ter­ror­ists. His hawk­ish po­si­tions on Iran and North Ko­rea were not ful­ly em­braced by Bush.

Ch­eney op­er­at­ed much of the time from undis­closed lo­ca­tions in the months af­ter the 2001 at­tacks, kept apart from Bush to en­sure one or the oth­er would sur­vive any fol­low-up as­sault on the coun­try’s lead­er­ship.

With Bush out of town on that fate­ful day, Ch­eney was a steady pres­ence in the White House, at least un­til Se­cret Ser­vice agents lift­ed him off his feet and car­ried him away, in a scene the vice pres­i­dent lat­er de­scribed to com­i­cal ef­fect.

From the be­gin­ning, Ch­eney and Bush struck an odd bar­gain, un­spo­ken but well un­der­stood. Shelv­ing any am­bi­tions he might have had to suc­ceed Bush, Ch­eney was ac­cord­ed pow­er com­pa­ra­ble in some ways to the pres­i­den­cy it­self.

That bar­gain large­ly held up.

“He is con­sti­tut­ed in a way to be the ul­ti­mate No. 2 guy,” Dave Grib­bin, a friend who grew up with Ch­eney in Casper, Wyoming, and worked with him in Wash­ing­ton, once said. “He is con­gen­i­tal­ly dis­creet. He is re­mark­ably loy­al.”

As Ch­eney put it: “I made the de­ci­sion when I signed on with the pres­i­dent that the on­ly agen­da I would have would be his agen­da, that I was not go­ing to be like most vice pres­i­dents — and that was an­gling, try­ing to fig­ure out how I was go­ing to be elect­ed pres­i­dent when his term was over with.”

His pen­chant for se­cre­cy and back­stage ma­noeu­vring had a price. He came to be seen as a thin-skinned Machi­avel­li or­ches­trat­ing a bun­gled re­sponse to crit­i­cism of the Iraq war. And when he shot a hunt­ing com­pan­ion in the tor­so, neck and face with an er­rant shot­gun blast in 2006, he and his co­terie were slow to dis­close that ex­tra­or­di­nary turn of events.

The vice pres­i­dent called it “one of the worst days of my life.” The vic­tim, his friend Har­ry Whit­ting­ton, re­cov­ered and quick­ly for­gave him.

Co­me­di­ans were re­lent­less about it for months. Whit­ting­ton died in 2023.

When Bush be­gan his pres­i­den­tial quest, he sought help from Ch­eney, a Wash­ing­ton in­sid­er who had re­treat­ed to the oil busi­ness. Ch­eney led the team to find a vice pres­i­den­tial can­di­date.

Bush de­cid­ed the best choice was the man picked to help with the choos­ing.

To­geth­er, the pair faced a pro­tract­ed 2000 post-elec­tion bat­tle be­fore they could claim vic­to­ry. A se­ries of re­counts and court chal­lenges — a tem­pest that brewed from Flori­da to the na­tion’s high­est court — left the na­tion in lim­bo for weeks.

Ch­eney took charge of the pres­i­den­tial tran­si­tion be­fore vic­to­ry was clear and helped give the ad­min­is­tra­tion a smooth launch de­spite the lost time. In of­fice, dis­putes among de­part­ments vy­ing for a big­ger piece of Bush’s con­strained bud­get came to his desk and of­ten were set­tled there.

On Capi­tol Hill, Ch­eney lob­bied for the pres­i­dent’s pro­grams in halls he had walked as a deeply con­ser­v­a­tive mem­ber of Con­gress and the No. 2 Re­pub­li­can House leader.

Jokes abound­ed about how Ch­eney was the re­al No. 1 in town; Bush didn’t seem to mind and cracked a few him­self. But such com­ments be­came less apt lat­er in Bush’s pres­i­den­cy as he clear­ly came in­to his own.

Ch­eney re­tired to Jack­son Hole, not far from where Liz Ch­eney a few years lat­er bought a home, es­tab­lish­ing Wyoming res­i­den­cy be­fore she won his old House seat in 2016. The fates of fa­ther and daugh­ter grew clos­er, too, as the Ch­eney fam­i­ly be­came one of Trump’s favourite tar­gets.

Dick Ch­eney ral­lied to his daugh­ter’s de­fense in 2022 as she jug­gled her lead role on the com­mit­tee in­ves­ti­gat­ing Jan. 6 with try­ing to get re­elect­ed in deeply con­ser­v­a­tive Wyoming.

Liz Ch­eney’s vote for Trump’s im­peach­ment af­ter the in­sur­rec­tion earned her praise from many De­moc­rats and po­lit­i­cal ob­servers out­side Con­gress. But that praise and her fa­ther’s sup­port didn’t keep her from los­ing bad­ly in the Re­pub­li­can pri­ma­ry, a dra­mat­ic fall af­ter her quick rise to the No. 3 job in the House GOP lead­er­ship.

Pol­i­tics first lured Dick Ch­eney to Wash­ing­ton in 1968, when he was a con­gres­sion­al fel­low. He be­came a pro­tégé of Rep. Don­ald Rums­feld, R-Ill,, serv­ing un­der him in two agen­cies and in Ger­ald Ford’s White House be­fore he was el­e­vat­ed to chief of staff, the youngest ever, at age 34.

Ch­eney held the post for 14 months, then re­turned to Casper, where he had been raised, and ran for the state’s sin­gle con­gres­sion­al seat.

In that first race for the House, Ch­eney suf­fered a mild heart at­tack, prompt­ing him to crack he was form­ing a group called “Car­diacs for Ch­eney.” He still man­aged a de­ci­sive vic­to­ry and went on to win five more terms.

In 1989, Ch­eney be­came de­fense sec­re­tary un­der the first Pres­i­dent Bush and led the Pen­ta­gon dur­ing the 1990-91 Per­sian Gulf War that drove Iraq’s troops from Kuwait. Be­tween the two Bush ad­min­is­tra­tions, Ch­eney led Dal­las-based Hal­libur­ton Corp., a large en­gi­neer­ing and con­struc­tion com­pa­ny for the oil in­dus­try.

Ch­eney was born in Lin­coln, Ne­bras­ka, son of a long­time Agri­cul­ture De­part­ment work­er. Se­nior class pres­i­dent and foot­ball co-cap­tain in Casper, he went to Yale on a full schol­ar­ship for a year but left with fail­ing grades.

He moved back to Wyoming, even­tu­al­ly en­rolled at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Wyoming and re­newed a re­la­tion­ship with high school sweet­heart Lynne Anne Vin­cent, mar­ry­ing her in 1964. He is sur­vived by his wife, by Liz and by a sec­ond daugh­ter, Mary.

As­so­ci­at­ed Press writer Mead Gru­ver in Cheyenne, Wyoming, con­tributed to this re­port.

WASH­ING­TON (AP) —