The implosion of Eric Swalwell's gubernatorial campaign and his once-promising political career has left a great many questions rising from the smoldering wreckage.

Questions about his character, judgment and staggering recklessness.

The question — as misguided as it is inevitable — of why his accusers hadn't come forward sooner. (My columnizing colleague, Anita Chabria, incisively addressed that one, discussing the nature of suppressed trauma and the believability hurdle that many victims of sexual assault unduly face.)

Then there's the question of how and why Swalwell's creepy and allegedly criminal behavior stayed hidden from public view for so long — especially when the impossible-to-miss fixture of cable TV embarked on a high-profile campaign to lead the nation's most-populous state.

Swalwell, 45 and married, had a widely whispered about reputation for showering inappropriate and unwelcome attention on younger women. Rumors — vague, unsubstantiated — were a source of incessant dirt-dishing among political insiders and also circulated extensively online. (Not, however, the more serious allegations of sexual assault.)

The veil was finally pierced last week when the San Francisco Chronicle published a graphic account of a woman alleging sexual encounters with Swalwell while the Democratic lawmaker was her boss. She said he sexually assaulted her twice when she was too intoxicated to consent.

A few hours later, CNN followed up with a report that three other women had recounted various kinds of sexual misconduct. On Tuesday, yet another alleged victim came forth, saying she was drugged and raped by Swalwell in 2018.

The former congressman has flatly and vigorously denied criminal wrongdoing while acknowledging and apologizing for unspecific "mistakes."

Those vociferous, flat-out denials had been enough to sway the politicians and union leaders who endorsed Swalwell's gubernatorial bid, until the weight of evidence made Swalwell's assertions untenable.

If the allegations are true and Swalwell is, in fact, a liar, lecher and sexual assailant, why wasn't that widely reported up until now? Was it negligence, or gullibility on the part of the political press corps? The short answer is that a wide gulf exists between rumor and fact and Swalwell lurked in that gray space, living and thriving in the shadows between provability and denial.

It's not unusual for rumors about financial, sexual or other peccadilloes to attend a campaign. They're often trafficked by political rivals, which automatically raises suspicion and invites particular skepticism.

Much of the chatter never moves past a relatively small, dishy circle of political gossips because the supposed misdeeds, while titillating, can't stand up to rigorous scrutiny. Or a legal challenge. That's the baseline for many news outlets to broadcast or publish a story. Call them what you will — legacy, corporate, mainstream, lamestream — many of the largest, most influential sources of news and information won't pass along allegations they can't independently verify and, if necessary, defend in court.

The challenge is verifying all that loose talk.

Politicians don't wear body cams, or broadcast their lives 24/7. (OK, Beto O'Rourke did livestream from a Texas laundromat during his 2018 Senate bid, holding up a soggy pair of underwear when he addressed the "boxers or briefs" question. But he's an exception.)

Journalists don't have subpoena power and can't force people to tell them what they know. A reporter is only as good as his or her sources, their knowledge, truthfulness and credibility.

Reporting on misdeeds of an intimate nature can be especially difficult and complex. There's rarely black-and-white documentation, such as a money trail leading to a hotel bedroom. It's hard to find an eyewitness or reliable third party who can vouch for what took place between people behind closed doors. It takes time and trust to develop sources who can substantiate incidents of sexual misconduct, assault or abuse.

Swalwell apparently did an excellent job deceiving those around him, including some congressional and campaign staffers who'd known him for years and worked closely with the seven-term lawmaker, day in, day out. They were shocked by the statements of his alleged victims; the words "double life" have come up many times.

If Swalwell managed to hoodwink those closest to him, it's easy to see why journalists had a hard time wrangling the firsthand accounts and other facts they needed to make their findings public.

When it comes to reporting on scandal, there is often the question of timing.

In 2003, The Times was widely criticized for publishing an account of Arnold Schwarzenegger's misconduct — touching women in a sexual manner without their consent — just days before California's gubernatorial recall election. Despite the report, which Schwarzenegger did not contest, voters kicked Gray Davis out and replaced him with the Hollywood super-duper star.

In 1992, the Washington Post and Portland Oregonian were widely criticized for their failure to publish accounts of Sen. Bob Packwood's misconduct — unwanted sexual advances and touching women without their consent — until weeks after he was elected to his fifth term. Packwood resigned in 1995 after the Senate Ethics Commission voted unanimously to expel him.

The allegations against Swalwell were revealed well before the June 2 primary. Not soon enough for those asking how he managed to get away for so long with his predatory behavior. But plenty of time to inform California voters before they weighed in on his candidacy.

Public attention will soon shift. But for Swalwell, the legal and other ramifications are just beginning.

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