The author, who gav eled the House into session on January 6 at Speaker Nancy Pelosi's request, recounts watching the Capitol be overrun and argues that the day must not be forgotten. He notes that physical repairs cannot erase the moral damage, criticizes pardons for participants, and warns that minimizing the attack risks future assaults on democracy. Drawing a contrast with George W. Bush's unifying response after 9/11, he urges Americans to reject comforting falsehoods and to remember Jan. 6 with solemn resolve.
I Gavelled Congress on Jan. 6 — We Must Never Forget
I gaveled in Congress on Jan. 6. We can never forget what happened.
The three days since the Civil War that have left the deepest scars on the American memory are December 7, 1941; September 11; and January 6. The last two are often referenced without a year because they are not mere calendar dates — they are wounds we carry.
When you hear sounds like breaking glass, shouting and the crush of a mob, your first thought is for those you love, especially your children. Five years ago at the U.S. Capitol, I was honored when then-Speaker Nancy Pelosi asked me to gavel the House into session. Not long after, I watched the building be overrun by a violent crowd intent on breaking barriers and assaulting any person who stood in their way.
Five years on, the broken glass has been replaced and the marble steps scrubbed clean. But physical repairs cannot erase the moral damage. President Donald Trump has pardoned many of the participants in that attack, and some would like to minimize or reframe what happened that day.
I refuse to look away. I am the son of a police officer and the brother of police officers. Outside my office hangs a monument to the Capitol Police who stood between lawmakers and danger on Jan. 6. Before I ran for office in 2012, I spent a career in court defending the principle of "We, the people." You do not need a badge or a law degree to recognize that Jan. 6 was a profound moral breach: in a civilized society, criminals should never be elevated above the constables who protect us.
By calling Jan. 6 "a day of love," the president is attempting to gaslight the nation on an industrial scale — and that tactic echoes the conspiratorial responses that followed September 11.
Set aside partisan loyalty for a moment and consider a counterfactual: recall President George W. Bush standing amid twisted steel at Ground Zero with a bullhorn, steadying a fractured nation. Now imagine that, minutes before the towers fell, he had stood in public and egged on a violent crowd. The idea is unthinkable because it would have meant that our leader had directed violence against his own country.
That is what happened on Jan. 6: the president of the United States directed an attack on another branch of government. If we do not name that truth and address the harm, the wound remains poisoned and the risk of repetition grows — Jan. 7, Jan. 8, and beyond.
Our democratic republic is larger than any single election or political personality. Our civic duty is to reject comforting lies, even when they come from friends. We must remember Jan. 6 with the same reverence, sorrow and resolve as other national tragedies, because forgetting is how democracies fall.
We remember. We do not look away.
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