At dawn on Jan. 7, 2021, I walked to my job at the U.S. Capitol.
The stench of tear gas hit my lungs, with its chemical residue coating the floor of the Capitol Crypt. Windows were smashed in nearly every room, with piles of glass and splintered wood scattered across the intricate tan tiles.
It had been hours since the building was cleared by police.
At the time, I was 23 and held a relatively unknown government job with a desk just off the floor of the House of Representatives. My task: keep the broadcast press happy while making sure everyone behaved and followed the rules.
I’d gotten to know some of the journalists and I worried about what they went through the day before.
Normally, I would have been at my desk on Jan. 6. But with COVID restrictions, our small team was split in two for days in the office — so I watched from home instead. My memories are vivid, even though I wasn’t there in person.
And when I got to the Capitol on Jan. 7, an angry posting was written onto a door: “Murder the Media.”
That was when my career took a turn. That day, I committed to becoming a member of the press rather than its shepherd, no matter the cost.
Setting the scene
At our Capitol office, several media organizations had working space. When I got there that day, many had covered the front door plaques naming their affiliation, such as “CNN” or “Fox News,” with tape or paper. By then, one group had already attempted to break into the space. It was an effort to avoid being targeted if protestors succeeded.
And that mattered, as a New York Times photographer learned.
The U.S. Capitol on Jan. 7, 2021.
The U.S. Capitol on Jan. 7, 2021.
A tunnel towards the U.S. Capitol in the aftermath of Jan. 6, 2021.
The U.S. Capitol in the aftermath of Jan. 6, 2021.
Erin Schaff was assaulted by a group of angry men after they saw where she worked on her media credentials. Her camera equipment was broken, she was thrown on the ground, and her pass was stolen.
“At this point, I thought I could be killed and no one would stop them,” she wrote in a 2021 article for the NYT.
I crossed paths with several journalists as they covered the aftermath.
A day after the siege started, some had never left the Capitol. Many were still visibly shaken from dealing with targeted assaults, bear spray, and destroyed equipment. As a veteran Fox News journalist who covered Jan. 6 later said — they’d suddenly become war correspondents.
A reporter's retrospection
As I witnessed the aftermath and how the journalists responded, my fear and anger turned into something I didn’t expect. I had never been more proud to even be in their presence.
They defied orders to evacuate, went live on air while hiding behind desks, and otherwise walked directly into the mayhem, essentially on their own. Their dedication to the truth — showing the world what was really happening — never wavered.
“This is what we do: We stay and report,” J. Scott Applewhite wrote in 2022 for the Associated Press about his experience photographing the armed standoff on the House floor.
The truths they shared throughout the attack only became more important in the aftermath, as elected officials, friends, and family members cast doubt on what happened, even to this day. But as strange as it seems, I found comfort in the coverage. It was real.
When I decided to leave my secure government job in Washington, D.C., to work as a professional journalist, I got a lot of questions. Why enter a struggling industry that can, at times, make politics look stable? It was the sense of pride, and purpose, I found on Jan. 7. I didn’t just admire the journalists, I needed to be one of them.
Four years later, I still struggle with coming to terms with it all. Instead of lingering on what I can’t change in the Capitol, I try to focus on what I can do here at home. Journalism is, at the end of the day, a job. But I do sincerely see it as a privilege, and not in a hoity-toity way.
The press is a fundamental part of this delicate balance of democracy, and Jan. 6 showed me what was at stake. “Murder the media” was covered up quickly, but the message lingered.
When I was leaving the Capitol that day, I texted a former California State University, Northridge political science professor, James Greenburg, and told him how scared I felt.
He responded with words of encouragement that I come back to again and again.
“If you … happen to look up at the Statue of Freedom atop the [Capitol] dome, you will remember that she faces east, not west,” he wrote. “Because she faces east, the Statue of Freedom never sees the sunset, she only sees the sunrise. That is because the sun never really sets on freedom — it only rises.”
