Courtrooms in Washington are filling with faces from January 6. Some in cowboy hats, some in camo, some with the dazed look of people who thought the government would fold when they kicked in the door. They’re finding out that slogans don’t work against indictments.
I scroll through the coverage and catch glimpses of men I could have stood next to that day. Maybe I did. The charges range from trespassing to conspiracy. Some plead guilty. Some shout about being patriots. Either way, the sentences stack up.
What’s missing is accountability at the top. The ones who lit the match are still free to tour rallies, raise money, sell books, and float a comeback. Meanwhile, the ones who carried out their anger are left holding the bag. That’s not justice. That’s a pyramid scheme.
I know how easy it was to get caught in the pull. Anger promises clarity, and clarity feels like power. But it isn’t power. Power is the judge with the gavel, the prosecutor with the evidence, the cop with the cuffs.
Watching these trials, I don’t feel sympathy. I feel recognition. And that’s worse.