By Commander Steven M. Wendelin, USN (Retired)
Do you remember where you were on January 6, 2021?
I do.
I was home in West Virginia, watching what should have been one of the dullest moments in American government: a joint session of Congress certifying a presidential election. I watched on purpose. After years of political chaos, I wanted to see the system do what it was supposed to do and move on.
Instead, I watched a line get crossed.
After nearly four decades of service in the U.S. Navy, including deployments overseas, I have seen what political breakdown looks like. I have seen crowds turn into mobs and institutions lose legitimacy. What unfolded at the U.S. Capitol that afternoon looked uncomfortably familiar, and not in a way that should ever feel normal here.
At the time, my wife was at her home in Alexandria, Virginia, just minutes from the Capitol. I called her immediately. I also tried to reach my former son-in-law, a Metropolitan Police officer. He did not answer. I later learned he was in the West Front tunnel, just behind Officer Daniel Hodges as he was crushed against the doors by the crowd.
That made it real.
I am not prone to panic, but as the afternoon wore on, it became clear that no one knew how far the violence would go. I secured a sidearm, got into my car, and drove east so I could be with my wife and, if needed, bring her safely back to our home in Hardy County. I remember thinking, with disbelief, that I might be watching an attempted coup unfold in real time.
A week later, the House impeached Donald Trump for inciting an insurrection. The facts were already known: the pressure on state officials, the lies about the vote, the rally, and the refusal to act while violence was underway.
The Senate chose not to convict.
That decision still matters, especially here in West Virginia. Senators who hid from the same mob that attacked police officers decided party loyalty was more important than constitutional duty. Accountability stopped where political inconvenience began.
In 2022, the January 6 Committee laid out the evidence in public hearings. Republicans and Democrats testified. Trump appointees testified. Law enforcement officers testified under oath. Anyone who says we do not know what happened is not being honest.
Hundreds of people have since been convicted and sentenced for their role in the attack. Police officers were injured. Families were changed. Accountability reached the ground level.
But it stalled at the top.
That failure is not abstract. It shows up in real ways, including here in West Virginia. It shows up when election workers are harassed. When school boards are threatened. When public servants quit because the job has become dangerous. It shows up when politicians excuse violence or treat the Constitution like a suggestion instead of a binding agreement.
West Virginians understand what happens when power goes unchecked. We have lived with the consequences of insiders protecting insiders, whether in company towns, broken pensions, or decisions made far from the people who pay the price. We know that when the rules stop applying to the powerful, they eventually stop protecting everyone else.
January 6 did not happen because of one bad day. It happened because lies were allowed to harden into identity, because leaders refused to tell the truth, and because too many elected officials decided silence was safer than accountability.
Congress failed that test. The courts have moved slowly. The guardrails we were told would hold turned out to be optional.
That leaves the rest of us.
Democracy does not defend itself. It depends on people who show up, pay attention, and refuse to accept violence and intimidation as normal politics. The elections ahead are not just about policy disagreements. They are about whether the peaceful transfer of power still matters and whether the Constitution applies to everyone.
West Virginia has sent people to Washington who talk a lot about patriotism. Patriotism is not a slogan or a campaign ad. It is telling the truth when it is unpopular. It is accepting election results even when your side loses. It is understanding that losing an election is not the same as losing your country.
As we approach the 250th anniversary of this republic, the question is not whether our system is perfect. It is whether we are willing to defend it.
January 6 showed us how fragile it can be.
What comes next depends on whether we remember that, and whether we act.
We do not get to forget what we saw.
And we do not get to sit this out.
