Donald “The” Trump
His speeches packed auditoriums and schoolhouses. Ponies loved to hear how he was going to make Equestria great again, and donkeys loved his stylish hairpiece. He promised to build a wall to keep changelings out, and when some smartass* asked him how that would work, since changelings could fly, he said that he would build the wall taller, and the resounding cheer nearly brought down the house. A few rafters did shake loose, but they were held up by several pegasi until the speech was over.
His poll numbers reflected his stunning success. He quickly moved up the ranks, rocketing even further ahead when Cruz failed to show up for the debate in Appleoosa.
The groundswell of popular support soon earned him an invitation to Canterlot. He made the most of it, selling his brand to the masses. Ponies bought The Art of the Deal in droves, and bars started serving Trump wine. Trump steaks were still a failure, though.
The day before the Equestrian primary, he was feeling pretty good about his chances. Cruz still hadn't responded to his latest ad campaign.
He set up a platform on the edge of Canterlot where he'd give his final speech. Hundreds of stagehooves had spent the last week setting up for it. There were benches fit for every bottom, from royalty to the humblest dirt farmer, as well as a table where he could display his magazines, and—the centerpiece of his stage—a section of changeling-proof wall that jutted up into the sky like a giant middle finger.
Luckily, that particular imagery was lost on the ponies. Their rude gestures mostly involved lifting the tail.
He was halfway into his pre-victory speech when the shoddily-constructed wall collapsed on him, killing him instantly. In the inquest, it was determined that the stagehooves had assumed that his literal back-of-the-envelope sketch had been structural drawings, and nopony was found at fault.
To memorialize the occasion, they erected a statue in the spot where he had been struck down.