Capitol assault a more sinister attack than first appeared
WASHINGTON (AP) — Under battle flags bearing Donald Trump's name, the Capitol's attackers pinned a bloodied police officer in a doorway, his twisted face and screams captured on video. They mortally wounded another officer with a blunt weapon and body-slammed a third over a railing into the crowd.
"Hang Mike Pence!" the insurrectionists chanted as they pressed inside, beating police with pipes. They demanded House Speaker Nancy Pelosi's whereabouts, too. They hunted any and all lawmakers: "Where are they?" Outside, makeshift gallows stood, complete with sturdy wooden steps and the noose. Guns and pipe bombs had been stashed in the vicinity.
Only days later is the extent of the danger from one of the darkest episodes in American democracy coming into focus. The sinister nature of the assault has become evident, betraying the crowd as a force determined to occupy the inner sanctums of Congress and run down leaders — Trump's vice president and the Democratic House speaker among them.
This was not just a collection of Trump supporters with MAGA bling caught up in a wave.
That revelation came in real time to Rep. Jim McGovern, D-Mass., who briefly took over proceedings in the House chamber as the mob closed in Wednesday and the speaker, Rep. Nancy Pelosi, was spirited to safer quarters moments before everything went haywire.
"I saw this crowd of people banging on that glass screaming," McGovern told The Associated Press on Sunday. "Looking at their faces, it occurred to me, these aren't protesters. These are people who want to do harm."
"What I saw in front of me," he said, "was basically home-grown fascism, out of control."
Pelosi said Sunday "the evidence is that it was a well-planned, organized group with leadership and guidance and direction. And the direction was to go get people." She did not elaborate on that point in a "60 Minutes" interview on CBS.
The scenes of rage, violence and agony are so vast that the whole of it may still be beyond comprehension. But with countless smartphone videos emerging from the scene, much of it from gloating insurrectionists themselves, and more lawmakers recounting the chaos that was around them, contours of the uprising are increasingly coming into relief.
THE STAGING
The mob got explicit marching orders from Trump and still more encouragement from the president's men.
"Fight like hell," Trump exhorted his partisans at the staging rally. "Let's have trial by combat," implored his lawyer, Rudy Giuliani, whose attempt to throw out election results in trial by courtroom failed. It's time to "start taking down names and kicking ass," said Republican Rep. Mo Brooks of Alabama.
Criminals pardoned by Trump, among them Roger Stone and Michael Flynn, came forward at rallies on the eve of the attack to tell the crowds they were fighting a battle between good and evil and they were on the side of good. On Capitol Hill, Republican Sen. Josh Hawley of Missouri gave a clenched-fist salute to the hordes outside the Capitol as he pulled up to press his challenge of the election results.
The crowd was pumped. Until a little after 2 p.m., Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell was at the helm for the final minutes of decorum in partnership with Pence, who was serving his ceremonial role presiding over the process.
Both men had backed Trump's agenda and excused or ignored his provocations for four years, but now had no mechanism or will to subvert the election won by Biden. That placed them high among the insurrectionists' targets, no different in the minds of the mob than the "socialists."
"If this election were overturned by mere allegations from the losing side, our democracy would enter a death spiral," McConnell told his chamber, not long before things spiraled out of control in what lawmakers call the "People's House."
THE ASSAULT
Thousands had swarmed the Capitol. They charged into police and metal barricades outside the building, shoving and hitting officers in their way. The assault quickly pushed through the vastly outnumbered police line; officers ran down one man and pummeled him.
In the melee outside, near the structure built for Joe Biden's inauguration on Jan. 20, a man threw a red fire extinguisher at the helmeted head of a police officer. Then he picked up a bullhorn and threw it at officers, too.
The identity of the officer could not immediately be confirmed. But Capitol Police officer Brian Sicknick, who was wounded in the chaos, died the next night; officials say he had been hit in the head with a fire extinguisher.
Shortly after 2 p.m., Capitol Police sent an alert telling workers in a House office building to head to underground transportation tunnels that criss-cross the complex. Minutes later, Pence was taken from the Senate chamber to a secret location and police announced the lockdown of the Capitol. "You may move throughout the building(s) but stay away from exterior windows and doors," said the email blast. "If you are outside, seek cover."
At 2:15 p.m., the Senate recessed its Electoral College debate and a voice was heard over the chamber's audio system: "The protesters are in the building." The doors of the House chamber were barricaded and lawmakers inside it were told they may need to duck under their chairs or relocate to cloakrooms off the House floor because the mob has breached the Capitol Rotunda.
Even before the mob reached sealed doors of the House chamber, Capitol Police pulled Pelosi away from the podium, she told "60 Minutes."
"I said, 'No, I want to be here,'"she said. "And they said, 'Well, no, you have to leave.' I said, 'No, I'm not leaving.' They said, 'No, you must leave.'" So she did.
At 2:44 p.m., as lawmakers inside the House chamber prepared to be evacuated, a gunshot was heard from right outside, in the Speaker's Lobby on the other side of the barricaded doors. That's when Ashli Babbit, wearing a Trump flag like a cape, was shot to death on camera as insurrectionists railed, her blood pooling on the white marble floor.
The Air Force veteran from California had climbed through a broken window into the Speaker's Lobby before a police officer's gunshot felled her.
Back in the House chamber, a woman in the balcony was seen and heard screaming. Why she was doing that only became clear later when video circulated. She was screaming a prayer.
Within about 10 minutes of the shooting, House lawmakers and staff members who had been cowering during the onslaught, terror etched into their faces, had been taken from the chamber and gallery to a secure room. The mob broke into Pelosi's offices while members of her staff hid in one of the rooms of her suite.
"The staff went under the table barricaded the door, turned out the lights, and were silent in the dark," she said. "Under the table for two and a half hours."
On the Senate side, Capitol Police had circled the chamber and ordered all staff and reporters and any nearby senators into the chamber and locked it down. At one point about 200 people were inside; an officer armed with what appeared to be a semi-automatic weapon stood between McConnell and the Democratic leader, Sen. Chuck Schumer.
Authorities then ordered an evacuation and rushed everyone inside to a secure location, the Senate parliamentary staff scooping up the boxes holding the Electoral Collage certificates.
Although the Capitol's attackers had been sent with Trump's exhortation to fight, they appeared in some cases to be surprised that they had actually made it in.
When they breached the abandoned Senate chamber, they milled around, rummaged through papers, sat at desks and took videos and pictures. One of them climbed to the dais and yelled, "Trump won that election!" Two others were photographed carrying flex cuffs typically used for mass arrests.
But outside the chamber, the mob's hunt was still on for lawmakers. "Where are they?" people could be heard yelling.
That question could have also applied to reinforcements — where were they?
At about 5:30 p.m., once the National Guard had arrived to supplement the overwhelmed Capitol Police force, a full-on effort began to get the attackers out.
Heavily armed officers brought in as reinforcements started using tear gas in a coordinated fashion to get people moving toward the door, then combed the halls for stragglers. As darkness fell, they pushed the mob farther out onto the plaza and lawn, using officers in riot gear in full shields and clouds of tear gas, flash-bangs and percussion grenades.
At 7:23 p.m., officials announced that people hunkered down in two nearby congressional office buildings could leave "if anyone must."
Within the hour, the Senate had resumed its work and the House followed, returning the People's House to the control of the people's representatives. Lawmakers affirmed Biden's election victory early the next morning, shell-shocked by the catastrophic failure of security.
Rep. Maxine Waters, D-Ca., told AP on Sunday it was as if Capitol Police "were naked" against the attackers. "It turns out it was the worst kind of non-security anybody could ever imagine."
Said McGovern: "I was in such disbelief this could possibly happen. These domestic terrorists were in the People's House, desecrating the People's House, destroying the People's House."
Unsheltered homeless won’t be counted in Seattle this year
SEATTLE (AP) — This year will be the first since at least 1980 there won't be a count of people living outside in Seattle.
The homeless census happens every January and provides a snapshot of how many people are living outdoors and in shelters within King County. The federal government requires every U.S. county to perform the count every two years, but King County has done it every year since before that mandate.
Last month, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development granted permission to King County to not conduct the count over concerns around exposing volunteers and people being counted to the coronavirus, The Seattle Times reported.
“There's no way I'm asking a team to go out there in the middle of the night with a lot of undiagnosed COVID in our community,'' said Colleen Echohawk, who runs a service center for homeless Native Americans in Pioneer Square called Chief Seattle Club, and co-chairs the board that voted to ask for a federal waiver.
Officials concede it is a flawed way to count, but it's the only national count the country has and provides data that is used to allocate funding at every level of government.
Outdoor camps in Seattle appear to have proliferated throughout the last year as shelters have been forced to downsize and space people out.
It's unclear how much COVID-19 has spread in unsheltered camps because there's been little testing outside, but December was the worst month yet for COVID spread in King County homeless shelters, meal programs and housing facilities, with hundreds of cases reported.
Native American land activist Carrie Dann dies in Nevada
RENO, Nev. (AP) — Carrie Dann, a Native American land rights activist, Nevada rancher and longtime leader of the Western Shoshone Nation, has died.
Dann and her younger sister Mary Dann, who died in 2005, fought with the federal government for decades over ownership of their ancestral lands in central Nevada.
Born in Nevada's Crescent Valley in 1932, Carrie Dann co-founded the Western Shoshone Defense Project in 1991.
She died Saturday at home of natural causes with family members near, said Julie Cavanaugh-Bill, a friend and lawyer in Elko who worked with Dann on numerous defense project cases. She was believed to be between 86 and 88, but didn't have a birth certificate, Cavanaugh-Bill said.
Carrie Dann helped lead efforts to block several northern Nevada mining projects; was a staunch opponent of shipping nuclear waste to the Yucca Mountain site in southern Nevada; and sought relief for tribal residents affected by nuclear weapons testing.
She was among dozens of peace activists arrested along with actor Martin Sheen during a 2011 anti-nuclear protest at the Nevada Test Site north of Las Vegas.
Carrie and Mary Dann grew up on an 800-acre ranch once run by their father.
For more than a quarter century, they were at the forefront of efforts to reclaim a vast tract of land spreading across four Western states. They claimed their aboriginal land under the 1863 Treaty of Ruby Valley was seized by the United States.
Under the treaty, the United States formally recognized Western Shoshone rights to about 60 million acres now covering parts of Nevada, Idaho, Utah and California.
The tribe sued the government for failure to honor the treaty, but courts ruled they were not entitled to compensation. The tribe appealed and the Indian Claims Commission awarded it $26 million in 1979. But the tribe refused to accept the money in exchange for the land.
Eventually, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in 1985 that the tribe lost title to the land when the $26 million was deposited earlier as payment — even though the money was never collected.
The Danns quit paying federal land grazing fees in protest during the 1970s. In 1974, the Bureau of Land Management sued them, claiming they were trespassing by letting their cattle graze on federal land without payment. In 2003, the BLM seized hundreds of horses and cattle from the Danns.
More recently, Carrie Dann joined other tribal leaders and environmentalists fighting a number of mining projects, including Barrick Gold Corp.'s Cortez Hills project, an expansion at one of the biggest gold mines in North America next to a mountain the tribe considered sacred.
Carrie Dann said Mt. Tenabo was home to several Western Shoshone creation stories and the water running beneath it is a sacrament important to maintaining the balance and power of life.
“This area is where the seasons of the year were named — in the time before people were here,'' she said in 2011.
The Nevada Museum of Art permanent collection in Reno includes artworks by Jack Malotte related to the Dann sisters and the Western Shoshone Sacred Lands Association.
Ann M. Wolfe, the museum's deputy director, said she has worked with contemporary visual artists like Malotte and Jean LaMarr to make sure the Danns' story is not forgotten.
“Carrie Dann and Mary Dann fought tirelessly to defend Indigenous land rights as outlined in the 1863 Treaty of Ruby Valley between the U.S. and Western Shoshone leaders,” Wolfe said in an email Tuesday to The Associated Press.
“The Danns' story is essential to understanding the collision between Indigenous people and colonial settlers that has led to conflict time and again since America's founding,” she said.
