‘The most horrible day’: Those at the Capitol on Jan. 6 carry scars, shame, satisfaction
This report is part of “Fractured,” an examination of the state of American democracy produced by Carnegie-Knight News21. For more stories, visit https://fractured.news21.com.
The insurrection at the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, will forever be remembered as one of the darkest days in American history.
Thousands converged to support then-President Donald Trump and his false claims that he was the victor over Joe Biden in the 2020 election. “If you don’t fight like hell,” Trump told the masses, “you’re not going to have a country anymore.”
Soon after, demonstrators wearing “Make America Great Again” baseball caps and, in some cases, full riot gear assaulted police, smashed windows and stormed the Capitol building, intent on blocking certification of the results.
Nearly four years later, more than 1,400 people have been charged in connection with the insurrection. Some have no regrets. Others brim with remorse. “You don’t want to tell people you’re a Jan. 6er,” one says. “It’s not something to be proud of.”
Meanwhile, those who stood against the mob still carry physical and emotional scars.
Four people who were there gave News21 access to their daily lives to share the enduring impact of that day.
These are their stories.
PAMELA HEMPHILL
With her phone attached to a selfie stick, Pamela Hemphill filmed as the mob pushed past law enforcement and made its way into the Capitol building on Jan. 6.
“I was just as much a MAGA as all the MAGAs in believing that the election was stolen,” the now-71-year-old says.
Today, Hemphill is committed to electing Vice President Kamala Harris – not Trump – come November, and to making amends for her participation in what she calls the most horrible day in America.
“It’s like breaking your leg, but you always have a limp,” she says. “I’m always going to have a limp.”
Hemphill was 41 years sober when she stepped onto the Capitol grounds, a decision that would alter her life. A grandmother, cancer survivor and recovering alcoholic, Hemphill served two months in prison and another 36 months on probation.
Now living in Boise, Idaho, she says she wants to leverage her past as a right-wing activist, Trump supporter and addict to help others who, like her, might base bad decisions on disinformation.
“They say in (Alcoholics Anonymous) our past is our greatest asset, because with it we can help others if we recognize that we were wrong and make amends,” Hemphill says. “So that’s what this is all about: making amends for that horrible day that I can never live down.”
Hemphill says she fell into a deep depression after the riot, prompting her to seek help from AA, a safe haven for her since she was 27.
“It doesn’t matter how long you’re sober – you can go into denial in any area of your life,” she says. “You could be in a bad relationship, a bad job, doing things like I did on Jan. 6. It’s not like the program restores you to sanity immediately. Character defects are still glaring. I have a lot of them.”
Since her release from federal prison, Hemphill has shared her experience on social media and in interviews, speaking out against Trump, whom she calls a “narcissist.”
“It’s part of my ways of making amends for that horrible day, the most horrible day of our nation,” she says. “You never can really make amends, per se, to make it right. But I’ll try to do the best I can to let the nation know I am so sorry.”
When asked if she regrets her actions on Jan. 6, Hemphill says: “I can’t stay stuck in the past, in the guilt and the shame, but that’s where I was for a long time – and I’m still a little bit.
“You don’t want to tell people you’re a Jan. 6er. It’s not something to be proud of.”
NATHAN DeGRAVE
Nathan DeGrave, 35, spent a year and a half in jail and six months in federal prison for his role in the insurrection, then was transferred to a halfway house in Las Vegas to serve the rest of his 37-month sentence.
Leading up to Jan. 6, DeGrave says he didn’t believe the 2020 election was fair. He was working 16-hour days at his marketing company, so when a friend told him he was going to the Capitol to rally on Trump’s behalf, DeGrave says he viewed it as a break and went along.
According to court documents, the car DeGrave and his companions drove to the Capitol contained paramilitary gear, a Glock pistol, an M&P Bodyguard pocket pistol, two magazines of ammunition, knives, a stun gun, an expandable baton, two-way radios and bear mace.
DeGrave was among the crowd that pushed against officers to force open the Capitol rotunda doors, “allowing the mob outside to begin streaming in,” according to court records. Once inside, he joined in a “shoving match” with police who tried to block rioters from entering the Senate gallery.
In 2022, DeGrave pleaded guilty to two counts: conspiracy to obstruct a proceeding and assaulting, resisting or impeding officers. He says Jan. 6 “was an opportunity for us to finally speak out after being silenced for so long.”
Although he wasn’t close with his family before, DeGrave says he hasn’t spoken to his mother since the insurrection, and he’s lost touch with other relatives and some friends. He nevertheless says his life now is even better than before.
DeGrave says he does not feel “any shame” for his participation in the riot. Like some other Jan. 6ers, he considers himself a “political prisoner” – and he remains a fervent backer of Trump.
In June, DeGrave attended a Trump rally in Las Vegas. He wore a shirt emblazoned with a photo of himself in full riot gear on Jan. 6 and approached reporters to offer interviews.
“I stormed the Capitol,” he told News21.
Later that month, DeGrave was invited to speak at a local church for the premiere of “Let My People Go,” a documentary that portrays the imprisonment of Jan. 6 felons as a “form of slavery.” At the screening, viewers asked to pose for photos with him, thanking him for his actions and calling him a “hero.”
DeGrave said he regrets having made anyone feel unsafe, but he stands by his actions.
“I think Jan. 6 was a warning shot – it’s nothing compared to what could happen,” he says. “The problems that are exacerbating and creating these situations are not being addressed. We’re shoving it down and we’re shoving it down until, eventually, the public and the American people reach a breaking point.”
He adds: “I don’t feel any shame about what I did.”
DANIEL HODGES AND AQUILINO GONELL
Daniel Hodges and Aquilino Gonell are two of the 140 police officers who were assaulted during the attack on the Capitol. They continue to share their experiences about that day and advocate for the future of democracy in the United States.
Hodges, 36, has served with the Metropolitan Police Department in Washington, D.C., for more than nine years. On Jan. 6, 2021, he and his platoon responded to the west terrace of the Capitol.
“I was knocked to the ground by someone trying to steal my baton, who kicked me in the chest, and my medical mask got pulled up over my eyes,” Hodges recalls. “I was blind and on all fours, surrounded by the mob. I thought I was gonna get torn apart at that point.”
A Connecticut man who used a police riot shield to pin Hodges against a door was sentenced to seven and a half years in prison for nine offenses. In court records, the attacker’s lawyer said he was “motivated by a misunderstanding as to the facts surrounding the 2020 election” and had “listened to sources of information that were clearly false.”
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