1.6 Mob, 4 years later
Over the past four years, nearly 1,600 people have been charged in connection with the January 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol. Some remain in prison, charged with felonies such as assault and seditious conspiracy. However, hundreds of people charged with minor crimes have completed their cases and returned to their daily lives.
January 6th was a turning point for everyone involved. A mob of Trump supporters invaded the U.S. Capitol, causing millions of dollars in damage and injuring more than 140 police officers, forcing lawmakers out of their duty to certify a presidential election for the first time in American history.
The attack also sparked the Justice Department’s largest single investigation to date, resulting in arrests in all 50 states. Since then, the defendants have been held accountable in a federal courthouse in Washington, blocks from the Capitol, for their role in undermining the foundations of democracy: the peaceful transfer of power.
Some people regret their actions that day, while others do not. At best, they say they have seen the realities of the criminal justice system and have become empathetic to the plight of others facing prosecution. At worst, they remain hardened by their encounters with the law, convinced that the system has wronged them.
Judges who have overseen Capitol riot cases have always opposed this idea.
“Some celebrities are trying to rewrite history, claiming that the rioters behaved in an ‘orderly’ manner like ordinary tourists, or calling the defendants convicted of January 6th a ‘political “I was shocked to see him martyred as a ‘criminal’ or, incredibly, a ‘hostage’,” Judge Lois C. Lamberth, an appointee of President Reagan, said in court last year. “That’s completely ridiculous.”
Still, President-elect Donald J. Trump has promised to pardon many, perhaps most, of the rioters soon after taking office, potentially ending a wide-ranging investigation into the Capitol attack. Four years after January 6, here are the experiences of some defendants accused of relatively minor crimes.
Eric Clark
On January 6, after years of homelessness and struggles with drug addiction, Eric Clark had been sober for three years and had more or less settled into a middle-class life as a machine operator in Louisville, Kentucky.
But believing Trump had won the 2020 election, he illegally entered the Capitol wearing a Guy Fawkes mask and refused to leave for nearly 30 minutes. Mr Clark was sentenced to five months in prison. Now 48, he is trying to rebuild his life by working as a drywall cleaner.
His only major success, he said, was rebuilding his relationship with his daughter. Even though it was his daughter who turned him over to the authorities in the first place.
“Instead of being mad at her, I decided to accept that she has her point of view and I have mine,” he said.
jacob chancery
No one is more clearly linked to the Capitol attack than Jacob Chansley, the so-called QAnon shaman who entered the building wearing face paint, a horned headdress, and waving an American flag from a spear-tipped flagpole. There will be very few people.
He moved with the first wave of rioters and left a threatening note aimed at Vice President Mike Pence in the Senate chamber as the mob took control of the Capitol.
But like others who disrupted the certification of the same-day election, Chansley has sought to denounce his 41-month prison sentence as “first-hand experience of tyranny.” Since his release, he has maintained that January 6 was “orchestrated” by the government and that public officials and news media have painted him as a “villain and a terrorist.”
Still, Chansley, 37, said her day-to-day life creating art in Phoenix is much the same as it was before that day, “other than the fact that I’m doing more interviews.”
Daniel Christman
Daniel Christman was 38 years old when he was arrested on misdemeanor charges after breaking into the Capitol through a broken window on January 6th. Mr. Christman, a New York City resident, was working as a plumber and activist journalist at the time and was running for office in New York City.
Working with defense attorneys during the prosecution inspired him so much that he returned to school after serving his 25-day sentence. He is scheduled to graduate from St. Joseph’s College in Brooklyn in May. Now, at age 42, he’s applying to law school and hopes to become a lawyer who can fight what he sees as government overreach — much like the federal defenders who first came to his rescue. , he said.
“I felt like what happened in my case was so bizarre and unjust that we needed more fighters like her,” Christman said.
Casey Cusick
Casey Cusick didn’t know much about the federal criminal justice system until he was convicted of four misdemeanor counts of unlawfully entering the U.S. Capitol. But Mr. Cusick, 39, a Tulsa, Okla., car dealer, has some idea of the cost of being questioned for his role in an attack that prosecutors say “threatened the peaceful transfer of power.” He says it has become. ”
After his case was featured on the local news, he lost the small business he ran as a handyman. He also said he spent hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees.
Cusick also said he remains shocked by the harsh realities of the federal charges, from the surrender of his firearm and passport at the beginning of the case to the prison conditions in which he served his 10-day sentence. Ta.
“It completely changed the way I thought about the criminal justice system,” he said. “You’ll never look at the word ‘prisoner’ the same way again.”
Qui Griffin
Little about Qui Griffin’s life has changed since before he was convicted and sentenced to 14 days in prison for illegally climbing a wall inside the restricted grounds of the Capitol.
He used to run a restaurant. He is currently repairing golf carts. He previously served as commissioner of Otero County, New Mexico, but was removed from office two years ago under the 14th Amendment. This makes him the first person in more than a century to be barred from holding public office, based on the Constitution’s prohibition on insurgents holding public office.
Still, enthusiasm for Mr. Trump has not waned.
“It’s been tough,” he said. “But I believe that the support of those who support me and know me is growing stronger and stronger.”
jenna ryan
Jenna Ryan, a Dallas-area real estate broker and social media influencer, entered the Capitol on Jan. 6 and prayed and chanted, “Fight for Trump!” With the crowd in the rotunda.
The next day, she posted the following message on Twitter: It was one of the best days of my life. ”
All this ultimately led to a 60-day jail sentence. She claims she was treated harshly because of her “public profile” as a defendant on Jan. 6. But her conviction for illegally demonstrating at the Capitol also allowed her to fulfill what she calls her “lifelong goal of becoming a writer and speaker.”
Ms. Ryan, 54, is the author of the book “The Storming of the Capitol: My Truth About January 6,” which is “situated in the midst of a polarized political climate and set in motion by society.” “It shows what it feels like to be canceled and under public scrutiny.” He was arrested by the FBI and imprisoned for his tweets. ”
Trenis Evans
Trenice Evans said she wasn’t that interested in politics before the 2020 election. But he has been immersed in the issue ever since he broke through a broken window at the Capitol on Jan. 6 and used a megaphone to lead other rioters in the Pledge of Allegiance and the “Star-Spangled Banner.”
Evans, 50, who lives near San Antonio, pleaded guilty to trespassing on restricted grounds at the Capitol and was sentenced to 20 days in jail. Like other rioters, he rose from the experience to focus less on his own culpability and more on the greater pain of being the subject of criminal prosecution.
Over the past four years, he has devoted much of his time to the organization he founded, Condemned USA, which provides legal assistance and public advocacy to the hundreds of people who took part in the storming of the Capitol.
“I used to believe in our justice system, but now I understand what minorities and low-income people have been complaining about for generations.”
james beakes
When James Beeks went to Washington on January 6 with the Oath Keepers militia, his chosen profession set him apart from many of his brethren in the far-right organizations that played a central role in the Capitol invasion. was. Mr. Beeks has appeared on Broadway five times, reprising his role as Judas in the 50th anniversary production of “Jesus Christ Superstar.”
Beeks, along with other Oath Keepers, was charged with conspiracy to force their way into the Capitol in a military-style “stack” before being acquitted by a judge who ruled the evidence did not support the charges. It became.
He was one of only two defendants out of dozens who were completely acquitted at the January 6 trial. However, although he was acquitted of the crime, his life has not yet returned to normal.
He lives in a friend’s van in Florida and is writing a book about his experiences, “I Saved Judas.” Since his arrest, he has never returned to public life.
“I still have this J6 scarlet letter on my heart,” he said.
