At a mid-December committee hearing, Rep. Liz Cheney, R-Wyo., the vice chair of the House Jan. 6 committee, brought former President Donald Trump’s potential criminal culpability for the Jan. 6 attack into full focus. Referring to Trump’s last White House chief of staff, Mark Meadows, she said: “Mr. Meadows’ own testimony will bear on another key question before this committee: Did Donald Trump, through action or inaction, corruptly seek to obstruct or impede Congress’ official proceeding to count electoral votes?”
As we embark on a new year, this question continues to haunt us.
As we embark on a new year, this question continues to haunt us. Cheney used the language of a prosecutor, quoting verbatim from parts of a criminal statute (18 U.S. Code § 1512) that outlaws obstructing official proceedings like the joint session of Congress at which the Electoral College votes are received and counted to determine our nation’s next president.
But no discussion of justice is complete without a survey of ongoing criminal prosecutions or the absence thereof. To date, the Justice Department has charged more than 700 people who are accused of having participated in the attack on the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6. Though no case has yet gone to trial, many of the defendants have pleaded guilty and received sentences from probation to 41 months in prison. The fate of Trump, however, continues to hang in the balance.
If ever America was in need of some accountability — some justice — for what was done to her, it was in the year 2021. We’ve seen a spasm of national tumult arguably unrivaled in our nation’s history since the Civil War, beginning with a literal attack on the peaceful transfer of presidential power on Jan. 6 and culminating with a Congress on the cusp of subpoenaing its own members, in what may or may not end up being a productive exercise in accountability.
Two distinctly different, though arguably each accurate, stories could be written about 2021 on the accountability front — a classic “best of times, worst of times” sort of thing.
For those who like their glasses half-full, 2021 is culminating with a congressional investigation as historic as it is unorthodox. Historic because of the sweep, scope, drama and danger of what happened on Jan. 6, why it happened and who organized, funded, inspired and — yes — incited it. Unorthodox because the members of the House select committee conducting the inquiry are not only the investigators but also among the victims of the attack. This presents a challenging mix of motives even for those with the best, most honorable investigative intentions.
For the glass-half-empty crew, 2021 has proven to be a democracy-busting disappointment, with nary a political figure, Trump administration member or person sharing the former president’s last name being held accountable for what some have argued are crimes committed in the harsh light of day. The pessimists say justice seems to be stalled at the starting blocks with the starter’s pistol nowhere in sight.
Two distinctly different, though arguably each accurate, stories could be written about 2021 on the accountability front.
Using our current legal landscape as an accountability snapshot, it’s hard to see what, if anything, we can extrapolate. As we enter a new year, there are signs of accountability on the horizon: Trump adviser and self-proclaimed deconstructor of American democracy Steve Bannon stands criminally indicted on two counts of contempt of Congress. This has at least a patina of looming accountability; that is, until we recall that Bannon has been indicted before — accused of defrauding Trump supporters via a bogus “We Build the Wall” foundation — only to be pardoned by Trump. So that accountability is in the eye of the beholder.
Meadows may — or may not — be on the road to suffering the same fate as Bannon. On the very day a Washington, D.C., grand jury indicted Bannon on a charge of contempt of Congress, Meadows failed to appear under a lawfully issued congressional subpoena, thereby committing precisely the same crime as Bannon. Congress voted to hold Meadows in contempt and referred him to the Justice Department for prosecution. But the grand jury has yet to indict Meadows, and it’s anybody’s guess whether the Justice Department will be as willing to seek an indictment of a former chief of staff as it was when it indicted a governmental nobody like Bannon.
Former Justice Department official Jeffrey Clark seems to be suspended in accountability amber at the moment. Recall that when Trump was told that there was no widespread fraud undermining President Joe Biden’s win, he was reported to have said, “Just say that the election was corrupt and leave the rest to me” and his allies in Congress. Clark apparently took Trump up on that conspiratorial ask, went back to his office at the Justice Department and drafted a letter giving Georgia elections officials a road map to corruptly overturn the election’s results.
Not surprisingly, the House committee subpoenaed Clark to testify. Clark responded 1) by appearing before the committee but refusing to answer questions while asserting no legitimate legal privilege and eventually storming out in a huff, then 2) by announcing through counsel that in any future appearance before the committee he would invoke his Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination and then 3) missing several appearance dates, allegedly because of unspecified health issues. Suffice it to say, Clark’s situation seems like a mixed bag, at best, on the accountability front.
Any discussion of Clark leads directly to Rep. Scott Perry, R-Pa. In a first for the Jan. 6 investigation, the committee members asked one of their own colleagues, Perry, to provide documents and testimony about the run-up to the attack on the Capitol. Among other topics, the committee indicated that it wanted to question Perry about his attempt to assist Trump in installing Clark as acting attorney general. Oh, yes, there’s also that pesky matter of Perry and Meadows’ reportedly communicating via encrypted apps, inferentially to avoid discovery of what they were talking about. No, friends, you can’t make this stuff up.








