In a small country that loves to believe it is big—and even more, that it matters to the world—a former prime minister boasted that he had spoken with the heir of America’s loudest political family. It took no more than a smile before the cameras for a whole legend to be born—or perhaps only the shadow of one. They say history loves repetitions; in Bulgaria, they usually arrive at press conferences, accompanied by lines such as: “I didn’t go to Donald Trump, I went to his son, who’s just the child of a friend.” From that point on, imagination takes the baton, and reality hurries to catch up with a fairy tale stalled at the traffic light between truth and PR.

The meeting between Boyko Borissov and Donald Trump Jr. in October 2025 was wrapped in more mystery than Borissov’s own private life. No one said exactly when it happened, who was present, what was on the menu, or most importantly—who recorded the conversation. No one except the journalists, who were left to investigate why, in a country that is a member of both the European Union and NATO, the leader of its largest right-wing party would travel to America to speak with “a friend’s child.” Not a minister, not a diplomat, not a representative of the White House, but a son, an heir, an icon of conservative podcasts—a man who loves hunting, cigars, and applause.

The Wall Street Journal wrote that the conversation touched on topics such as gas-transmission infrastructure and sanctions under the Magnitsky Act. That was enough to ignite a scandal that, if it were a movie, would be titled “Balkan Stream 2: From Washington with Love.” Borissov, in his typical fashion, hurried to announce that not a single pipe, contract, or Peevski had been mentioned. He had merely “promoted Bulgaria,” he said—without clarifying whether he was promoting it as a tourist destination or as a laboratory for political survivors.

The video published by Fakti.bg shows Borissov as a man trying simultaneously to appear candid and to say nothing. His eyes dart between self-satisfaction and tension. His voice sounds as though he were dictating to a stenographer out of ink. He says he met “through friendly connections,” but does not explain which friend could possibly bridge an American billionaire and a Bulgarian political veteran. His speech carries all the familiar elements of the post-scandal genre—some humor, some insult, some patriotism—mixed into a cocktail that smells of old power and a new need for legitimacy.

That is where the more interesting part begins—not in what was said, but in what was left unsaid. When there is no transcript, there is no accountability. When there is no protocol, a legend is born. And when there is no national interest but a personal one, history ceases to be diplomatic and begins to resemble a crime novel without a detective. The “former” prime minister—though Borissov is never truly “former”—travels to the United States to meet a man with no official role, yet with influence in the circles surrounding the Trump family. That is not a crime, some will say. True—but then what is it, if not politics, business, or friendship? In Bulgaria, the borders between those three categories often vanish like a translator in a dark room.

American media paid little attention to the meeting—perhaps because they have other concerns, such as Donald Trump’s court cases and presidential campaign. But in Bulgaria it became everything: a meme, a TV-debate topic, and a source of national embarrassment. Some claimed that Borissov had “humiliated” Donald Trump Jr. by speaking publicly about the meeting without permission, thereby “damaging the image of the head of the greatest nation on Earth.” Others said the opposite—that he had humiliated himself by trying to give significance to a conversation probably shorter than an American detergent commercial.

The facts are few, but the voices are many.
Radio BNR reported that Borissov told supporters the meeting had been “friendly, private, and entirely off the record.”
bTV News quoted his words that he “did not discuss Peevski or Lukoil,” which, in Bulgarian politics, is almost proof that he did—because here, when something is denied three times, it is at least half true.

After The Wall Street Journal’s revelations about the meeting between Boyko Borissov and Donald Trump Jr., Bulgarian media responded with a wave of publications that outlined every side of the scandal—from open admissions of lobbying to attempts at self-justification disguised as “friendly conversations.”

Mediapool.bg quoted the American paper and noted that “GERB leader Boyko Borissov spoke with Donald Trump Jr. on topics related to energy and sanctions under the Magnitsky Act.” The article emphasized that Borissov himself did not deny the meeting but rather sought to trivialize it, declaring, “Of course I’ll tell the story,”—a phrase Mediapool interpreted as an inadvertent confession of having engaged in discussions that crossed diplomatic lines.

Radio Free Europe (Свободна Европа) published two texts that placed the visit in context. The first, “Crypto, Myths, and a Half-Secret Meeting,” traced Trump Jr.’s presence at Nexo’s business forum in Sofia and Borissov’s participation in an informal lunch with him. The second—“A ‘Magnitsky’ Deal: Can MP Borissov Negotiate?”—quoted The Wall Street Journal and pointed out that Borissov himself confirmed the topic of sanctions had been mentioned, turning his claim of a “private conversation” into a legally and morally dubious act.

Club Z was the most direct, titling its article “Borissov Admitted Lobbying Trump Jr. to Lift ‘Magnitsky’.” The piece framed the meeting as a form of lobbying on behalf of figures tied to Bulgaria’s political and economic oligarchy and observed that Borissov’s remark “I only mentioned the law” was effectively an admission that the discussion had touched precisely on the forbidden subject.

Webcafe ran a story headlined “WSJ: Borissov Offered ‘TurkStream’ to Trump Jr.” Citing the American source and Bulgarian witnesses, it reported that during the lunch with representatives of the cryptocurrency company Nexo, Borissov had “put on the table” the idea of involving American investors in the Bulgarian section of the pipeline. The article stressed that such a conversation could be seen as an attempt to trade national interests for political favor.

Dnevnik.bg summarized the information under the headline “‘The Wall Street Journal’: Borissov Spoke with Trump Jr. about Selling a Stake in ‘TurkStream’,” highlighting the absence of any official agenda or protocol. The paper quoted WSJ verbatim: Borissov had also broached “a possible change in the U.S. administration’s stance toward sanctioned individuals.”

Deutsche Welle (DW) added specific details about the presence of Denitsa Zheleva, Borissov’s chief of staff, who acted as interpreter. According to DW, that fact proves the meeting was not “private” at all but involved an official participant, giving the conversation an institutional character.

Za Istinata (For the Truth) likewise confirmed the version that Borissov “saw an opportunity to secure a meeting with Trump by promoting ‘TurkStream’ as an option for U.S. investment.” The piece interpreted his actions as an effort at personal political legitimization through symbolic proximity to America’s conservative elite.

Focus News placed the story in an international frame—“WSJ Entangles Bulgaria, Boyko Borissov, and ‘TurkStream’”—emphasizing a quote from the original article: “He invoked Trump Jr.’s name in pursuit of billion-dollar deals. It gets awkward.”

In the earliest report, published by Fakti.bg back in April 2025, the site merely stated: “Borissov met with Donald Trump Jr. No details were released.” At the time, the lack of information was interpreted as a form of diplomatic discretion; today it looks more like a deliberate concealment of substance.

Thus the Bulgarian media landscape—usually silent about Borissov’s international appearances—this time turned into a stage for a collective act of exposure. Almost every newsroom confirmed the same thing: that the former prime minister had used Donald Trump Jr.’s name to suggest closeness with American conservative circles and to present a private interest as a national one. From Radio Free Europe’s nuanced analyses to the blunt accusations of Club Z and Webcafe, all headlines pointed to a single conclusion: the meeting in Sofia was no gesture of friendship but a scene of moral contraband, in which Bulgaria once again lost face beneath the banner of a foreign authority.

If we believe The Wall Street Journal, Borissov presented himself as a man able to mediate between Washington and certain European business circles. If we believe Borissov, he merely talked about tourism, gas, and friendship. If we believe common sense, we must ask: why would an American with access to world leaders devote time to an unofficial meeting with a Bulgarian politician out of power—unless there was a deeper interest behind the table?

The credibility of Borissov’s words can be measured in the usual way—by his contradictions. One day he claims he never discussed sanctions; the next he admits he “only mentioned the Magnitsky Act because it’s a topical issue.” On the third day, he says nothing. A classic Bulgarian version of “I never said what I said.” In this chaos of words, tones, and excuses, truth disappears like an invoice in a government office.

And yet, there is something deeper—the moral question. When a man whose past is entangled with investigations, accusations, and shadows of dependence decides to meet a representative of the American political elite, it is not mere friendship. It is a symbolic act—as if a former casino manager entered a church claiming he had come to talk about candles. It might even be true, but it sounds absurd.

Thus arises the sense that this meeting was not just a personal whim but an act of self-legitimization. When a Bulgarian politician poses for a photo with a Trump heir, it is sold as international recognition; when he later insists the conversation was “private,” it is presented as modesty. In reality, it is political theatre—without a script, without a director, yet with an audience hungry for drama.

Is Borissov a mafioso? The word is strong, yet his image has been built to invite such conclusions. From his days as a bodyguard to his years as prime minister, he has always been a man of control—control over media, money, and narrative. This meeting is part of the same instinct: to stay in the game, to keep a channel open, to prove he is still a player. It is no coincidence there is no transcript. Transcripts endure; legends live longer.

In America, Trump Jr. has likely already forgotten Borissov’s name. In Bulgaria, however, this meeting will continue to live as a myth—a testament to the dual nature of power, caught between shadow and spotlight. A single photograph, a single sentence, a single trip can create the illusion that Bulgaria has a seat at the big table. But when there is no protocol, there is no dignity.

Perhaps Mark Twain would say that “truth wears shoes while the lie flies by private jet.” In this case, the jet has already landed, though no one knows where. Borissov keeps talking about friends and highways; Trump Jr. keeps talking about hunting and business. They are mirror images of a world where money replaces ideas and words replace facts.

Their meeting did not change the world, but it showed how easily a small nation can lose its face in the name of one man’s self-regard. That is the humiliation unseen on television—it is not in the words but in the silence that follows them. Once again, Bulgaria was used as a backdrop for foreign ambitions—not by great powers this time, but by its own shadows.

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