“We Live Here Now” and Trump’s Retelling of January 6

The South rewrote the history of the Civil War slowly.

What we now know as the lost cause myth built steam over time,

with lectures, magazine stories, and then statues and monuments,

until eventually it became for some Southerners the official narrative of the war. Eventually, meaning like many decades later.
But back then, there was no TV, no Twitter, no Truth Social to speed up the process of revising history. A few days ago, Trump did his first post-election interview on NBC with Kristen Welker.
And by most accounts, his rhetoric seemed tempered. A typical headline about the interview was, Trump cools on taking revenge against foes.
But there was one part about halfway through the interview when Trump did not seem so mellow. These people have been in jail, and I hear that jail is a hellhole.
They've done reports, and you would say that's true. They've done reports, this is the most disgusting, filthy place.
These people are living in hell. The jail he's talking about is the D.C.
jail. These people, he mentions, have been charged with crimes related to the January 6th insurrection at the Capitol.
And the big question Trump has just answered is whether he still plans to follow through with his promise to pardon those people who were convicted for the insurrection. To which he responded, We're looking at it right now, most likely.
Well, you know, Those people have suffered long and hard. And then he was asked about officials on the January 6th Congressional Committee,

including Liz Cheney, people who put the real facts of that day on the official record. I think those people committed a major crime.
And Cheney was behind it. And so was Benny Thompson and everybody on that committee.
For what they did, honestly, they should go to jail. Trump's desire to rewrite January 6th as a day of love and peace, as he said during his campaign, seems as strong as ever.
The day Joe Biden pardoned his son Hunter, Trump posted on True Social, does the pardon given by Joe to Hunter include the J6 hostages who have now been imprisoned for years? The New York Times reported that the Trump transition team is asking applicants for positions in the Defense Department and the intelligence agencies three questions, and one of them is what they thought about January 6th. Now, we don't yet know who Trump will pardon and if he will actually go after Liz Cheney or anyone else on that committee.
But what we do know is that there are two very different stories being told about that day. On one side are Liz Cheney, Benny Thompson, and dozens of Capitol Police officers, not to mention the millions of American citizens who are determined to remember that day for the violent attempt to subvert democracy that it was.
On the other side, Trump, hundreds of January 6 prisoners, and probably millions of American citizens who don't know or care enough about that day to think it disqualified Trump from being elected. On many, many things, these two sides are far apart.
But the people who inhabit those two sides, they're just people. And people can always find something in common.
That's the spirit that drives what you're about to listen to. It's the first episode of a podcast series we made just before the election.
It's called We Live Here Now, and it's driven by the deep and maybe even desperate belief that no matter

who you're talking to and what they believe, you can always ask them the question, what are you

going through? The series takes you inside the jail, that supposed hellhole Trump mentions.

And in a later episode, we talk to some of those January 6th prisoners who Trump wants to pardon. And we think seriously about how the justice system has treated them.
But mostly, the series is about our neighbors. We discovered one day that they're on Trump's side of the January 6th divide.
And that is putting it mildly. The podcast is hosted by me, Hannah Rosen, and my partner, Lauren Ober, who's also a journalist.
This is the first of six episodes. You can find the rest on the podcast feed, We Live Here Now.
Here's that episode. When the neighbor incident first happened, it didn't really feel like much of anything.
Or maybe we were both just too stunned to take it all in. It wasn't until we started telling other people the story and they reacted that it began to feel like maybe we had discovered something.
I guess it started just like any other dog walk. Hannah and I leashed up our pups and set out from our house on our post-dinner stroll.
It was early November of 2023, and I remember it was unseasonably warm. We headed off down the hill from our house towards our neighborhood park.
A block past the park, Lauren spotted it. A black Chevy Equinox with Texas plates we'd seen parked around the neighborhood.
Just a basic American SUV. Except for the stickers that covered the back windshield.
Stickers we're very much not used to seeing in our mixed-race, mixed-income neighborhood. Our vibe is more like, make D.C.
the 51st state. And no taxation without representation.
These stickers were a combo

platter of skulls and American flags. There was a Roman numeral for three, the symbol of a militia

group called the Three Percenters, and the piece de resistance, a giant decal in the center of the

back window that read, free our patriots, J4, J6. Meaning, justice for January 6th.
Lauren notices every new or different thing in the neighborhood. And this car was definitely different.
As we walked past it, Lauren said what she always said when we saw this car. There's that fucking militiamobile again.
Right after I said that moderately unneighborly thing, the passenger side window rolled down. Cigarette smoke curled out of the car.
And the person inside shouted, justice for J6. To which Lauren said, you're in the wrong neighborhood for

that, honey. And then the woman in the car said words I'm not going to forget anytime soon.

We live here now, so suck it, bitch.

We'll get to who that person is soon enough, but we're not there yet. When we first encountered the

woman from the car, we had no idea who we were dealing with. I just knew I was sufficiently

Thank you. That person is soon enough.
But we're not there yet. When we first encountered the woman from the car, we had no idea who we were dealing with.
I just knew I was sufficiently put in my place. Well, okay, I remember saying to Hannah as we walked back home.
I remember after it happened, we walked away in total silence. That's my memory.
Each of us looping in our own heads about something.

I remember being mad because I lost.

Right.

Because I didn't get the final word.

Yeah. And because I just kept thinking, like, the whole combination of it felt bad to me.

It's like, it's like, malicious stickers.

Justice for J6.

We live here.

You just called me a name.

I'm sorry. it felt bad to me.
It's like, it's like, militia stickers, justice for J6. We live here.
You just called me a name. You know, the whole thing was very out of place.
And I felt it was a little destabilizing. Yeah.
Yeah. I walked home in a half hypervigilant neighborhood watch brain, like, who lives here now?

What are they doing here?

Are we going to get into more of these confrontations?

And a half-journalism brain, like, who's we?

Where do they live?

Why are they here now?

Like, it was like, those were my two tracks when I was walking home. I'm Lauren Ober.
And I'm Hannah Rosen. And from the Atlantic, this is We Live Here Now.
Most of the country watched January 6th from a safe distance. Something happening in their Twitter feeds or on their phone screens.
But for those of us living in D.C., it was happening in our backyard. I know that everyone here will soon be marching over to the Capitol building to peacefully and patriotically make your voices heard.
Start making a list! Put all those names down and we start hunting them down one by one.

If this person has no tear gas in the rotunda, please be advised to have a mask under your seats. Please grab a mask.

In Washington, D.C., a curfew has now taken effect from 6 p.m. Eastern tonight to 6 a.m.
Thursday morning.

We're going to continue updating. So we were actually left with the wreckage of that day.
We were in a militarized city. We were living under a curfew.
Streets were blocked off. The windows were all boarded up.
And you felt like you were living, if not in a war zone, in a dangerous place. And there was National Guard everywhere.
All the stores were closed and there were very few regular people walking around doing regular things. And I was just thinking, like, where am I? What city is this? Right.
I bought a baseball bat for protection. I remember that.
Which is why two plus years later, it felt like this whole period of time we'd rather forget was racing back. Donald Trump was looking like he'd be the Republican nominee and a second Trump presidency seemed possible.
Plus, we had a car with militia stickers lurking in our neighborhood. So, no, we did not welcome January 6th supporters creeping back to the scene of the crime.
But also, we wanted to know what they were up to. In the immediate aftermath of January 6th, there were three names I associated with what happened at the Capitol.
The QAnon shaman, for obvious reasons. Oath Keepers founder Stuart Rhodes, because he seemed really dangerous, and also he had an eyepatch.
And Ashley Babbitt, who has everything to do with our new neighbor's arrival in D.C. Four people died that day, but I only remember hearing about Ashley.
Maybe that's because she was the only rioter killed by law enforcement. Ashley Babbitt was a Trump diehard, so it's not surprising she made her way to D.C.
for the rally. She was a Second Amendment-loving libertarian.
She wholeheartedly believed in MAGA and QAnon. During the pandemic, she was hostile about mask mandates and refused to get vaccinated.
When California issued a stay-at-home order, she tweeted, this is that commie bullshit. The day before her death, Ashley tweeted in QAnon speak, nothing will stop us.
They can try and try, but the storm is here and it's descending upon D.C. in less than 24 hours.
Dark to light. We are walking to the Capitol in a mob.
There's an estimated over 3 million people here today. So despite what the media tells you, boots on ground definitely say something different.
There is a sea of nothing but red, white, and blue. On the day of the riots, she seemed genuinely thrilled to be there.
And it was amazing to get to see the president talk. We are now walking down the inaugural path to the Capitol building.
Three million plus people. God bless America, patriots.
More like 50,000 people, give or take. And a few thousand of them went into the Capitol, or more accurately, broke in.
When the mob of protesters breached the Capitol, busting windows and breaking down doors, Ashley was right there in the mix. There's so many people.
It's just, they're going to push their way up here. There are four videos shot by rioters that capture this moment in its entirety.

Ashley strides down the hallway like she knows where she's going. She's followed by other rioters, but they're suddenly stopped when they come to a set of doors with large window panels.
Through the windows, you can make out congresspeople being evacuated away from the growing mob. The crowd Ashley is with has accidentally landed at the bullseye, the actual place where these Congresspeople were about to certify the election.
On the other side of the doors is a cop with a gun, although it's unclear if Ashley can see him. She's the only woman in a sea of men, and she's small, and she seems to be yelling.
It's our fucking house. We're allowed to be in here.
You're wrong.

One of the riders breaks a window, and then out of nowhere, Ashley tries to climb through it.

The cop shoots. She immediately falls backwards and lands on the floor.
She jerks and convulses, and blood pours out of her mouth. She's dead.
She's dead. She's dead.
I saw the light go down. She's dead.
She saw the light go off. What happened, though? She's dead.
And then something happens right after she dies. It's a detail I missed at first, but it turned out to be a spark for everything that would happen since that day.
People around Ashley take out their cell phones and start filming. This individual says he actually saw her die.
He actually saw her die. I have the video.
I have the video of the guy with the gun in there. Okay, I want to get with you.
I'm with the voice.com. I'm with the voice.com.
Have you ever heard of that? One person says he's from Infowars and offers to buy footage from someone closer.

I want to get you to your phone right now.

We've got that shot. Okay.
I need that footage, man. It's going to go out into the world.
It's going to change so much. Even in the chaos, they realize a martyr was born.
Rumors spread immediately that the woman killed was 25, 21, a mere teenager. In actual fact, Ashley was 35.
But the details didn't matter. She was a young white woman in the prime of her life shot dead by a Black officer.
People were quick to point out that she was a veteran,

a war hero even, purportedly upholding her oath to defend the Constitution when she died.

On far-right pro-Trump message boards post-January 6, Ashley was called a freedom fighter

and the first victim of the Second Civil War. One person wrote,

Your blood will not be in vain. We will avenge you.
People who came to January 6th thought they were saving our democracy from evil forces trying to steal an election. Three years later, some of them still think that.
And now, those same evil forces are keeping J6 freedom fighters in prison. Justice for January 6th.
That's what those window stickers on the Chevy are about. This conspiracy has gotten more elaborate over time.
The insurrection was a setup. Or the prosecution of January 6th rioters represented gross government overreach.
Or the government can turn on its own citizens, even kill them. A lot of the people who believe these things have taken their cues from one woman, Ashley's mother.
Her name is Mickey Witthoff. Ashley was a beloved daughter, wife, sister, granddaughter, niece, and aunt.
But beyond that, she was the single bravest person I have ever known. She was the quintessential American woman.
Today is a dark day for our family and this country, for they have lost the true patriot. I would like to invite Donald J.
Trump to say her name out loud. It took us a minute, but with the help of some friends, we finally figured out that Mickey was our new neighbor.
I wasn't sure what I thought about having Ashley Babbitt's grieving mother come back to the place where her daughter was killed. Why was she here? In our D.C.
neighborhood? What did she want? Was there some sort of future Jan 6 on the horizon? it all felt just a little too close for comfort.

In the days after our run-in with the neighbor,

I googled till my eyeballs dried out.

There were a lot of videos on social media that featured Mickey,

but not a lot of solid information.

I reported what I could find to Hannah.

Do you want to know what the house is called?

What?

The Eagle's Nest. Oh, stop.
What? Yeah. No, we don't have the Eagle's Nest in our neighborhood.
What does the Eagle's Nest mean to you? Some patriot thing. No.
Well, sure, one would think, oh, it's patriotic, right? American Eagle. It's where all the eagles go.
But do you know who else had a very particular property called the Eagle's Nest? No. Well, I'll tell you.
It's Adolf Hitler. However, to quote Mickey, who explained to HuffPost why they called the house the Eagle's Nest, she said, we call our house the Eagle's Nest, which some would say was Hitler's hideout, but we're American citizens and we won that war and we're taking back the name.
So this is absolutely not an ode to Hitler. Here's what else I found out.
The online videos of Mickey didn't exactly make me want to bring over a tray of homemade welcome to the neighborhood brownies. Lots of shouting and scowling and general unpleasantness.
Why are y'all here if you're going to let that happen? He said, why the hell are y'all here? He said that to you? That was very unprofessional. In one clip online, Mickey is being arrested for blocking and obstructing roadways.

She was at a march to honor the second anniversary of her daughter's death,

and she walked into the street one too many times.

The D.C. cops did not appreciate that, and they let her know it.

It wasn't the only time she got into it with the cops.

A year later...

I try to show y'all respect. I've did not seem to appreciate their presence in the city.
Fuck off, bitch. Fuck off! Fuck off!

Fuck off!

Hey!

We caught that video!

Stop fucking touching my shit!

Get out of here, you fancy!

But later, in that same video, there's this.

Our new neighbors are getting harassed by anti-J6 protesters.

Folks who like to chalk the sidewalk with phrases like,

Mickey is a grifter.

There are a number of D.C. cops on the scene.

I get tense just watching it.

Finally, Mickey snaps and screams at them.

I heard all the commotions when I got up.

I can't see. I didn't see what happened.

I had to beg him to get out of his car.

You can tell your man that the reason I'm here is because three years ago today, y'all killed my kid.

That's why I'm here.

I don't know about that.

Right. She's a mom, and the police killed her kid.

That's why she's here.

She wants to make sure her dead daughter isn't forgotten and that someone is held accountable for what happened. And one way to do that is to maybe get yourself arrested or at least show up everywhere.
January 6th trials, congressional hearings, the Supreme Court, rallies, marches, my neighborhood. Another way for people to take notice, a nightly vigil.
Outside the D.C. jail, every single night for more than 700 nights.
And we mean every night, in the rain or scorching heat. Without fail, Mickey and a few supporters stand on what they call Freedom Corner and talk on the phone with the J6 defendants held inside the jail.

As I explained to Hannah, every night at 7 p.m., these apparently true patriots come out and they have a vigil for all of the January 6th defendants who are currently being held in the jail, either awaiting trial or awaiting sentencing. And every night they get like a January 6th inmate on the phone and they put them on the speaker and then they join in singing like the national anthem or America the Beautiful.

And they're chanting like justice for Ashley. And the evening ends often with God bless America.
Lee Greenwood. Who's the they? So there's a small cadre of true believers who believe that the people in the D.C.
jail are political prisoners. Interesting.
Interesting is a boring thing to say. I get that.
But I was only just starting to put this whole picture together. That Mickey and her friends were not in D.C.
just to cause chaos. They were here to push a narrative.
That these people, the same ones who turned our city upside down, were victims of a colossal injustice. And also that January 6th was actually a totally appropriate exercise of freedom and liberty.
And their version of the story was getting traction

with some important people, actually the most important person.

I am the political prisoner of a failing nation,

but I will soon be free on November 5th,

the most important day in the history of our country,

and we will together make America great again. Thank you.

If our interactions with our new neighbors had unfolded more like the typical neighborhood

showdown, my MAGA hat versus your dump Trump sign, things might have been easier. Because

that would have been just straight upup neighbor warfare. Pure mutual hatred.
But it didn't happen that way. Instead, two opposite dramas unfolded.
One, we got an up-close, intimate view of how history gets rewritten. Call it the lost cause narrative for the 21st century.
A group of Americans immediately sets to work retooling the history of an event through tweets and podcasts and viral video clips in a way that distorts collective memory forever. But then, too, our new neighbors became real people to us.
We also got an up-close intimate view of them, their monumental grief, their sleepless nights, their deep friendship, things that make it harder to purely hate on someone. This woman, Mickey Withoff, is many things to many people.
Mama Mickey to the January 6th defendants, mother of a dead domestic terrorist to others. But to us, she's something else.
She's our neighbor. Um, do you want to hear something rotten? I don't know if I do, but I will.
After months of getting to know Mickey, I felt like I needed to confess something. She had been telling me how people in the neighborhood had generally been nice to them, except for this one time.

One of her roommates, Nicole, had been sitting in the car and these two women walked by and said something totally rude.

And I know you've already heard the story before.

The Nicole sitting in the car?

Mm-hmm.

That was me.

And I'm like fully disgusted with myself and embarrassed. Like, because that's not how I want to be treated.
And that's not how I want to think about people. But I did it.

Oh, well, I'm surprised.

I'm impressed that you admitted that to me.

I really am.

That's going to be interesting when I tell Nicole.

Since that incident, I spent a lot of time with Mickey, trying to understand her cause, her politics, and her anger.

I've had many moments where I thought, what the hell am I doing?

Getting all caught up in their revisionist history of January 6th. But what I can tell you is that Mickey is not who I thought she was.
She is every bit as fiery as she comes off in speeches and confrontations with people who want her out of this city. After nearly a year of knowing her, I'm still terrified of her.
I have never before in my life met a person with such penetrating eyes, and she wields them to great effect. If she is staring you down, I promise you, you will find no relief.
So the window rolls down, and I guess Nicole said, you know, justice for J6, right? Reflexively, in two seconds, I go, well, you're in the wrong neighborhood for that, right? Now, I feel like you would appreciate that because sometimes things pop out of your mouth that maybe you didn't think about. I am a person who is very guilty of that is my mouth runs away with me.
So I said that. And she goes, we live here now.
So suck it, bitch. That's my Nicole.
and I was like well okay when we first ran into the militia mobile we didn't know anything about Mickey and her crew We thought anyone could be living in that house with that car. Maybe it was an actual militia headquarters with a cache of weapons in the basement.
Maybe it was just some wacko whose patriotism had gone totally sideways. But now, after nearly a year of reporting this story, we know so much more.
In the rest of the series, we're going to take you through this upside-down world we landed in, where we found ourselves talking conspiracies. I don't know what I believe them capable of.
Is it eating babies and drinking their blood? I don't think so. But I'll know.
I mean, I'll know what they're up to. How you can suddenly find yourself joking with January Sixers about militias.
If you're going to come down here, you've got to know your militia straight. You know, I can't,

there are too many splinter groups and, you know. There's factions, there's levels, there's color

coding. Listen, when the gay militia happens, I'm there.
Okay, when that happens, until then. We're a country of militias.
And wondering, what could possibly be coming for us? Like, how long are you going to stay in D.C.? I plan to stay until, like, January 7th. That feels vaguely threatening.
I could see why you would say that. That's coming up on We Live Here Now.
Our senior producer is Ryder Alsop. Our producer is Ethan Brooks.
Original scoring, sound design, and mix engineering by Brendan Baker. This series was edited by Scott Stossel and Claudine Abade.
Fact-checking by Michelle Siraca. Art direction by Colin Hunter.
Project management by Nancy DeVille. Claudine Abade is the executive producer of Atlantic Audio, and Andrea Valdez is our managing editor.
The Atlantic's executive editor is Adrienne LaFrance. Jeffrey Goldberg is the Atlantic's editor-in-chief.
And then did I say something like, well, bitch, I live here now or something? Very close to that. We live here now, so...
Get used to it. No.
Suck it. Fuck it.
Nope. You're right on the suck it suck it what suck it who uh suck it fascist so much more fascist than me um don't tell me what i said you said suck it bitch oh okay okay