Growing up in the Dominican Republic and then Brooklyn, I became the first in my family to graduate high school. To afford college, I enlisted in the army. I saluted and obeyed the chain of command, waiting for permission to speak. I followed orders, replying “Yes, sir.” My efforts paid off.
I was honored to become a U.S. citizen. The military was perfect training for joining the Capitol Police. For 16 years, ordered to check ID, I checked. Sent to guard a dignitary’s arrival, I guarded. I was cautious and careful as I moved up the ranks, rarely challenging higher-ups.
Silence became impossible on Jan. 6, 2021. On that day, I was attacked while defending the Capitol against invasion by tens of thousands in a barbaric mob of rioters incited by President Trump. Swarms of assailants beat me — and my colleagues — with poles, sticks, broken pipes, and pieces of furniture. It was worse than combat I’d seen in Iraq. Holding the police line through hours of torture, bloody from fending off multiple rioters, I was called “un-American” and a traitor who broke his oath and deserved to be executed. Trampled from both sides, I thought: This is how I’m going to die.
Nine people ended up dead. I was so badly wounded that even after two surgeries I wasn’t sure if I could do my job or take the lieutenant promotion I’d strived for. Instead of denouncing the siege and upholding the law, many of the Republican lawmakers I risked my life to shield did the unthinkable: they defended the former president and the insurrectionists, claiming the violent uprising by armed militia was “legitimate public discourse” and a “peaceful protest” conducted by “patriots.”
As a public servant for two decades, I was horrified to hear the invaders painted as victims and felt compelled to tell my story. But my wife and I were petrified that Trump’s influence could harm our family. I kept my mouth shut. Then Harry Dunn, a Black colleague of 13 years also traumatized by the attempted coup, spoke out. He exposed the violence and racist epithets hurled at him by the pro-Trump white nationalists who stormed the Capitol. In TV interviews, he revealed how he was berated and racially profiled by fellow U.S. citizens whose crimes were rationalized and concealed.
I identified with Dunn, a fellow policeman of color, vilified for doing his job. I waited for the Republican leaders Lindsey Graham, Kevin McCarthy, Steve Scalise, Ted Cruz, Josh Hawley, and Marco Rubio — people I’d met and protected — to condemn the revolt. Yet they refused to blame our lawless ex-president for causing this historic tragedy.
Meanwhile, doctors and physical therapists tried fix my chronic pain, recurring nightmares, and PTSD. One day, recovering from shoulder and foot surgery for injuries sustained in the attack, my leg elevated to keep the swelling down, I turned on the news to learn that the GOP had blocked a bipartisan probe of the Jan. 6 insurrection.
Then I saw Harry Dunn and his coworker Michael Fanone with two women, the mother and fiancé of Brian Sicknick, the 42-year-old officer who died from a stroke a day after fighting the rioters. The foursome went door to door in the U.S. Senate buildings to get support for an investigation into the dangerous ambush. It could have been my wife, son, mom, and dad begging our lawmakers to investigate the same mob who almost killed me.
My faith in the U.S. justice system capsized. I’d put everything on the line as a soldier and policeman to defend our democracy. I could no longer stay silent. An American proud of the sacrifices I made for our nation, I deserved a voice. To hell with not being disruptive. I was going public. I On June 3, 2021, I gave an interview with CNN. It was draining to relive the terrifying trauma that haunted me, but afterwards a weight lifted. I was risking my job and the security of my family, but the truth was more important.
At 41, I left my comfort zone and spoke out — to my bosses, the district attorney, the FBI, before Congress, in The New York Times and The Washington Post and on Telemundo. I blew every whistle, testified to each horror I saw, and called out all the injustices I witnessed, regardless of whether the liars taunted, outnumbered, or outranked me. I was betrayed by the president of the United States. The obedient, scared little boy from el campo was gone. It was time to stand up to any authority who abused their power and stop being afraid.
Gonell is the author, with Susan Shapiro, of “American Shield: The Immigrant Sergeant Who Defended Democracy” from Counterpoint Press.
