Prompted: A Parole Board Letter
Image provided by: @emilianobar
A reader submitted the following prompt during 2024’s 24 Hour Writing Challenge. I couldn’t complete the essay before the challenge ended, but as promised, I am attempting to do so now.
The prompt: Let's say Enrique gets parole in 11-15 years or so for good behavior. You write a letter to his parole board. What do you say?
Click Here to Read the Original Article: https://www.justice.gov/archives/opa/pr/proud-boys-leader-sentenced-22-years-prison-seditious-conspiracy-and-other-charges-related
Author’s Note: Henry “Enrique” Tarrio was granted clemency by President Trump in 2025. This essay pretends that act never occurred.
The following is a work of fiction.
On January 6, 2021, I found myself sitting at the stone kitchen table in my in-law's home. At the time, unemployment defined my life. For the past eleven months, I had done little else than look for work. In March 2020, I stepped away from a nonprofit job in Los Angeles in hopes of hiking the entire Pacific Crest Trail. Within days of leaving the trail's southern terminus, the realities of the COVID-19 pandemic sent me home.
For eleven long months, I woke up every day and sat myself at that kitchen table and worked. For the first few months, I kept myself busy helping a small nonprofit in Los Angeles develop a fundraising plan. When that project was complete, I fully dedicated myself to the search for a new job. Every day, my job was to find a job. I browsed countless job listing websites. I sent well-crafted emails to friends, family, and colleagues in my network. I revised and submitted my resume, cover letter, and references to hundreds of nonprofit organizations in the Seattle area. This new ritual was my new religion, and I was fully devoted.
On January 6, 2021, my daily ritual was interrupted by a blizzard of cell phone notifications. Scrolling a small collection of news and social media sites, I quickly learned that President Trump had finished a toxic and manipulative speech to supporters. This speech was delivered within the shadow of the White House. With his encouragement, a mob turned its attention toward the US Capitol, where Congress was readying themselves for the time-honored tradition of certifying the electoral college. Soon, this process would certify Joseph Biden and Kamala Harris as the next president and vice-president of the United States.
Convinced of a "big lie" by President Trump, this mob, under the sway of leaders such as Henry "Enrique" Tarrio of the Proud Boys, marched on the capitol. In their violent wake, five people died, and somewhere between 140-175 people were injured. Beyond physical harm, they left a capitol building in ruin, countless staff members traumatized, and the seat of American democracy bloodied, but unbroken.
Henry "Enrique" Tarrio ultimately failed in his foolish mission. After order was restored to the capitol, Congress resumed its duty by certifying the will of the people. America had a new president and vice-president. Democracy had won the day.
In the aftermath, a massive nation-wide manhunt focused on those who participated in this attack on democracy was launched. A Congressional investigation sought to bring guilty parties into the light. The President of the United States of America was impeached for a second time. 1,500 people were arrested. Collectively, we learned that American democracy is fragile, and should be protected at all costs.
Born in 1983 in Oklahoma, I entered a world shaped by Ronald Reagan. I would decide in 1992 during the election of Bill Clinton that I was a Democrat. With this decision settled, I began shaping my own political opinions. I read. I observed. I allow my experience and the experiences of my fellow citizens to refine my beliefs. I debated. I argued. As a Democrat in Oklahoma, I found myself in countless arguments. As a Democrat in Oklahoma, I was growing used to the idea that my preferred politicians lost local, state-wide, and national elections. As Oklahoma grew more conservative, I grew more liberal. I no longer saw space for me. Tired and exhausted, I move toward more friendly and less challenging waters. I found those waters in Seattle, WA.
Watching President George W. Bush or President Donald Trump take the oath of office, I never felt compelled to act violently. Like lots of liberals, I joked about moving to Canada, but I never acted on it. I did what I had always done before. I rolled up my sleeves. I got local in my approach. I allowed my work to be a vessel for positive change. My work in higher education and in the nonprofit sector was their own form of protest. My volunteer work was a form of protest. My hobbies and passions were a form of protest. When necessary, I hit the streets, signed petitions, campaigned, and spoke truth to power. Violence was never an option. American democracy is a battle of ideas. It is not won with weapons and intimidation.
As I watched a violent mob storm the capitol, I felt stunned. As I watched that same mob live-stream and post their crimes in real time, I felt betrayed. I thought, "This isn't who we are. This isn't America."
As the smoke cleared and Congress resumed the people's business, I found myself consumed with a new feeling. I was lusting for vengeance. I wanted those who attempted to desecrate democracy brought to justice. I wanted the President of the United States to pay for his selfishness and lies. I wanted a nation-wide manhunt launched. I felt like the only way to restore hope in everything we lost on January 6th.
With the arrest of 1,500 people, I began to heal. America began to heal. When leaders such as Henry "Enrique" Tarrio were indicted, tried, and convicted, I felt a sense of joy, relief, and pride. Democracy still stood wearing bruises and black eyes, but now it was punching back and delivering justice. The fragility of our system of self-governance was making itself whole again.
Men like Henry "Enrique" Tarrio deserve everything that has happened to them since January 6th. For their attempted violation of our freedoms, they should never know a chance at a pardon. They have not proven themselves worthy of freedom. They don't understand the concept and shouldn't even begin to learn its true meaning until their sentences have been fully served.
Believing in a "big lie," they chose to sew chaos and division. Instead of choosing peaceful means of protests, they chose violence and intimidation. For these crimes, they have been found guilty. Any attempt to parole and pardon those involved in the acts of January 6th is a betrayal to the lives lost and those injured in the act of saving our country. We must honor their sacrifice by ensuring these men serve every day of their sentences.
Be good to each other,
Nathan
As a member of the factory, you are taking a stand for human powered creation.
