Key Takeaways
- Graham Platner, the Democratic Senate candidate from Maine, has a documented history of volatile, at times abusive, relationships with several women, including allegations of emotional manipulation, heavy drinking, infidelity, and occasional physical intimidation.
- Three former partners described his behavior as “toxic” and “collateral damage,” citing patterns of grabbing, verbal demeaning, and a troubling fascination with violence and dominance, including remarks that he would “rape” intruders to assert power.
- Platner acknowledges a troubled past linked to PTSD, depression, and alcohol misuse stemming from his military service, and he says he has since undergone therapy and personal growth, framing his candidacy as a story of redemption.
- Recent revelations that he exchanged sexual messages with other women while married in 2023–2024 have undermined his narrative of stability and raised concerns among Democratic leaders about the Senate race in Maine.
- A tattoo on his chest, which he claims he did not recognize as a Nazi “Totenkopf” symbol until reporters pointed it out last year, is contested by former girlfriend Lyndsey Fifield, who says he referred to it as a Nazi tattoo and taught her the term during their relationship.
- Platner’s campaign denies knowledge of the tattoo’s meaning and disputes allegations of physical abuse, while some women who dated him describe him as kind, supportive, and never threatening, illustrating a polarized picture of his character.
- The controversy has become a focal point in the race, with opponents using his past to question his fitness for office, while supporters emphasize his veteran status, community work, and personal transformation.
Graham Platner, a 41‑year‑old combat veteran and Democratic nominee for the U.S. Senate from Maine, returned home to Sullivan after a frenetic day in Washington, only to find his personal life under intense scrutiny. Rumors swirled that he had sent sexual messages to women while married, prompting Democratic senators to press him for further disclosures and journalists to stake out his hometown. In the midst of the turmoil, Platner reached out to former girlfriends, hoping they would publicly vouch for his character despite acknowledging his past shortcomings.
In interviews with The New York Times, several women affirmed that Platner could be fun, caring, and made them feel safe, with some remaining friends years after their romances ended. Yet three other former partners painted a far darker picture, describing relationships marked by volatility, emotional strain, and at times threatening behavior. They recalled his charm and charisma but also noted a pattern of heavy drinking, serial infidelity, and demeaning attitudes toward women. One woman said she felt like “collateral damage to the world that is his,” while another recounted instances where Platner grabbed her by the shoulders hard enough to leave marks, twisted her arm behind her back, and locked her in a bedroom until she “calmed down.” Platner’s campaign strongly disputes any claims of physical intimidation, and The Times could not independently corroborate those specific allegations.
The women also highlighted Platner’s unsettling fascination with violence and dominance. Lyndsey Fifield, a conservative activist who dated him from roughly 2013 to 2015, said he repeatedly remarked that if anyone broke into his home, he would “rape them” to show his power—a comment he framed as non‑sexual but about asserting dominance. She added that he kept an AR‑15 in his apartment, sharpened an ax while watching television, and referred to women using crude slang such as “hatchet wounds.” Platner’s campaign did not deny these remarks when asked, though a friend characterized them as out of character.
Platner himself has spoken openly about struggling with post‑traumatic stress disorder, depression, and alcohol misuse that he traces to his military service, which ended in 2012. He says he entered a “very dark period” marked by self‑medication, emotional distance, and failed relationships. After returning to Maine in 2016, he pursued VA therapy, took over an oyster farm, and began presenting his life as a story of healing and redemption. By 2021, he wrote online that he had abandoned patriotic fervor, embraced a neighbor‑helping ethos, and described himself as a “vegetable‑growing, psychedelics‑taking socialist” who still owned guns but rejected political violence.
Nevertheless, his online activity between 2016 and 2021 reveals a continued grappling with military trauma, interspersed with posts about oyster farming and life in Maine. In late 2023 he married Amy Gertner, a former teacher from his hometown. Yet less than a year later, an anonymous Facebook post on a page titled “Are we dating the same guy” showed Platner smiling in an oyster‑themed T‑shirt, accompanied by a message claiming he had “ghosted” someone and reappeared on a dating app while married. Several women, including Jenny Racicot—a Maine Democrat who dated him off‑and‑on between 2019 and 2021—confirmed the post’s authenticity. Racicot said she was not shocked by the incendiary comments about women that have surfaced during the campaign, noting, “This person does not respect women.” She also recalled an incident in 2021 when Platner arrived at her house drunk after she had asked him not to come over, describing his behavior as reckless and unsettling.
The controversy intensified when The Wall Street Journal and The Times reported that Gertner had warned Platner’s campaign staff about his ongoing sexual messaging with other women. Platner acknowledged that he and Gertner had “gone through something hard — because of me,” and Gertner later posted a video defending their marriage, stating she wanted “my marriage, and I want to be married to Graham.” Democratic senators privately asked Platner whether any further damaging revelations loomed; he assured them there were none but warned that opponents would lie about him.
Adding another layer of contention is the tattoo on Platner’s chest—a skull‑and‑crossbones design he obtained in Croatia in 2007 with fellow Marines. Platner claims he only learned last year, after media inquiries, that the image is widely recognized as a Nazi “Totenkopf” symbol and that he would never have kept it had he known its meaning. He covered the tattoo shortly thereafter. However, Fifield insists he knew its significance during their relationship, referring to it as “my Totenkopf” and telling her that he and his unit chose it because they saw themselves as a “death unit” akin to the Nazi SS. Platner’s campaign denies this account, pointing to numerous shirtless photos where the tattoo is visible and asserting that no one ever labeled him a Nazi.
The article draws on interviews with more than two dozen people, including six women who were romantically involved with Platner, contemporaneous texts, social media exchanges, diary entries, and statements from friends. Platner declined to be interviewed for the piece. The divergent portraits—of a charming, supportive partner versus a volatile, at times threatening figure—have complicated his campaign’s attempt to frame his candidacy as a straightforward redemption arc, leaving Maine voters and party leaders to weigh his past against his present promises of service and reform.