The Final 24 Hours – January 5 and 6, 2021

I, along with a few hundred thousand of my closest friends, went to Washington D. C. for the “Stop the Steal” Rally held on January 6th, the same day that the Electoral Votes from the 50 states would be read and counted.  

January 5th

There were a number of related events on the 5th, at Freedom Plaza, at the Supreme Court, the Lincoln Memorial and elsewhere, many of them prayerful, all of them peaceful and about election integrity one way or another.  We trudged or Ubered from one to another in the cold gray of a midwinter day in our Nation’s Capital, somber and tense but glad to be among others equally concerned about the integrity of our elections. 

We seemed to share the fear that what appeared to  be massive, massive voter fraud wouldn’t be addressed and therefore rectified, and profound trepidation about what happens next.  At the same time, though, we wanted to see that at least the proper steps would be taken to debate and discuss the handful of battleground states with the most egregious records of fraud.  

Truth be told, we were also angry. Angry at the fraud that had clearly happened, angry at those who refused to even entertain the thought that it had, who silenced us rather than addressed our concerns, as had YouTube, facebook etc who blizzarded us with warnings and fake fact-checks and utterly disingenuous reassurances that elections including this one were fraud-proof.  The list of egregious transgressions and refusals to even listen to concerns is long, (see Peter Navarro’s comprehensive report here and the “Every Legal Vote” website with a great compilation of  “irregularities”)  and when we undertook step after legal step after legitimate step to have these things examined, not just for this election but to ensure that going forward, we can have faith in our elections, we were mocked, shut down, silenced, our voices

cancelled.  Every bit of rhetoric from the Left about voices heard, fairness, making “every vote count” was proven over the months since the election to be utterly specious. So yes, we were angry, at the obvious theft of the election, at the denigrating of us and the President for even suggesting such a thing.  And now, as it happens, the lawful, legal, constitutionally-protected pursuit of inquiries into election integrity is being cited as incitement to violence by the President.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

So yes, we were angry, but also we knew that the process was continuing on apace.

And while we had no real expectation of the outcome and our outlook ranged from utterly pessimistic to wildly optimistic, we shared a conviction that we were at Ground Zero of something momentous.  

We had no idea of how right we were, nor of what form that momentous thing would take. 

 

January 6th

The plan was this, loosely: In the morning the main stage would be at the Ellipse between the Washington Monument and the White House; there would be speakers all morning culminating with the President speaking, then we’d march to the Capitol where another whole set of speakers would address us, at the side of the Capitol facing away from the mall, away from the direction we would be marching from. 

We were told via numerous text messages to ensure that we get to the Ellipse by 7 AM. By the time I arrived at 7, the whole area from the Ellipse to the Washington Monument was already crowded, more flowing in, constantly flowing in. Eager, tense, friendly, and completely freezing.

The event was sponsored by Ali Alexander and his “Stop the Steal” group together with Women for Trump, both of which had held a few of these already.  Logistically there were some oddities but overall the whole thing seemed reasonably well run, but a few things warrant commenting upon. 

 – There was shockingly little law enforcement. Given a crowd of several hundred thousand, one might expect a huge police/security presence, and yet there was virtually none.  Compared to other events both there and elsewhere, it was startlingly sparse.  

 – During the four hour period between arriving and when the President spoke, there were of course other speakers including Donald Trump Jr., Rudy Giuliani and John Eastman.  In between the speakers, there was music over the loudspeakers, ostensibly to keep the crowd energized and enthusiastic.  Normally, at events such as these, the playlist includes pro-America, pro-freedom, high-energy songs, but at this event, not only was that not the case, but selections which played on a loop included Elton John’s Funeral for a Friend, Phil Collins’ In the Air Tonight, and Celine Dion’s theme song from the Titanic.  Not drawing any conclusions here, but I confess to having been completely befuddled by these choices.

 – As I walked through the crowds, from the road up to the Washington Monument and back down, for a period of over four hours, it was clear that the love for President Trump and the concern for our loss of freedom should Vice President Biden actually become president were pervasive, and those supporting him and the March were young and old, ambulatory and in wheel chairs, Latinos, African Americans, and the group with the most overt presence were the Chinese anti-Chinese Communist Party activists.  

 

This woman to the left was with the anti-CCP group, repeating over and over into a microphone “FIGHT FOR TRUMP, FIGHT FOR TRUMP.”   You can see that she’s holding up a pocket Constitution.  I just happened to have caught her kissing it and saying, very quietly, “I love you,” to it.  It was one of the more powerful moments of the day, so heartwarming, such a testament to how those who know what tyranny is are the most appreciative of what we have in our Constitution, and of how President Trump has been a strong bullwark against communism, China and tyranny generally.

I’m sure you’ve seen photos ad nauseam, but I wanted to provide a reminder that the morning of January 6th, 2021, this was but another rally in support of freedom, yes, in support of Trump, full of peaceful, loving, caring, concerned patriotic men and women who travelled thousands of miles to show support for the process of arguably the most important election on the planet, and our sense, our conviction, that to certify it without examination into the many, many allegations of fraud would have been both dishonest and destructive to the integrity of this nation.

I’d noted that this was just like the many Beverly Hills rallies I had been to except it was about 50 degrees colder and thousands of times bigger.

And I’d add that it was also more somber as daily, the stakes have gotten higher, and our concern greater.

But this I know:  clearly not 100%, but perhaps 99% of us there wanted nothing more than the constitutionally-outlined process to be carried out as scheduled for that afternoon.  

Legitimacy was our goal.  Integrity of the process was what we wanted to ensure.  And violence was the absolute last thing any of us wanted. We wanted the process to play out.

Look at the faces in these photos.  These are good people, great people, freezing people who turned out to support those with the courage to stand up to the juggernaut of arrogation, the relentless lies by the media, the rejection by the courts even to look at the suits, the mocking of court orders by various election officials.  

These are Americans of all races and nations of origin who believe in the rule of law, in the sanctity of the election process, in the foundations laid down in our Constitution. They are immigrants who came here, worked their way through the system in order to achieve that great goal, American citizenship, so they can cast votes here in elections more honest than from where they’d come, or so they’d thought.  

That morning was a great, great morning, all of us together, wanting our votes to count and our concerns to be heard, wanting the process to be followed with care, legitimacy and respect.  The President concluded his remarks saying this:  “I know that everyone here will soon be marching over to the Capitol building to peacefully and patriotically make your voices heard.”

Those were the last hours of the Old America.

I never want to forget what it felt like.