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January 6 could have faded for Republicans as a day they’d rather not talk about. But then six months later, Donald Trump landed on a story that’s become useful to him. He started talking about Ashli Babbitt, the woman who was fatally shot by a Capitol Police officer. Over a few weeks, Trump started spinning a new story: Babbitt was a martyr, and the people imprisoned for January 6 were political prisoners, and the villain was the Deep State, the same shady entity that denied him the presidency.

In this episode of We Live Here Now, we trace how Micki Witthoeft, the mother of Ashli Babbitt, got Trump’s attention and may have changed the course of history as a result. Witthoeft never had anything to do with politics before her daughter was killed. But by her constant presence at January 6 vigils and rallies, she managed to create a new reality.

This is the third episode of We Live Here Now, a six-part series about what happened when we found out that our new neighbors were supporting January 6 insurrectionists.

The following is a transcript of the episode:

Lauren Ober: I wonder what justice looks like and what happens if it doesn’t come.

Hanna Rosin: This is a question Lauren would ask Micki a lot.

Micki Witthoeft: I want to see somebody held accountable for my daughter’s death.

Nicole Reffitt: Exactly.

Witthoeft: You know, I want to see a lot of people held accountable for my daughter’s death and the way she’s been treated since then.

Ober: By whom?

Witthoeft: By people that consider her disposable.

Ober: What happens if no one is held accountable in a way that feels correct for you?

Witthoeft: Well, that’s a good question, Lauren. But I guess, then, I will just have to take my dying breath trying to bring that about.

Rosin: Micki has been in D.C., far from home, for a long time. She has four sons and two grandsons, one she barely knows because most of his life, she’s been 3,000 miles away on “Freedom Corner,” chasing this slippery justice—these somebodies to hold accountable, whatever “accountable” means. And then there’s Nicole.

Reffitt: Yeah, it looks like a very long road. My family is never going to be the same as they were prior to January 6 ever again. Micki’s family is never going to be the same. Ashli’s never coming back. But being here in D.C. and seeing what that looks like, we ask ourselves that all the time. You know, like, What are we doing? We say that a lot to each other.

Rosin: Lauren and I have that same question. What did they get done here? Seen one way, Micki Witthoeft and Nicole Reffitt have spent 700-plus evenings far away from their families to organize a small, fringey protest at the back of the D.C. jail. But seen another way, these two women diverted the course of history.

Or maybe both are true, because this is a very weird political era where fringe can merge with power, and suddenly the world is upside down.

I’m Hanna Rosin.

Ober: And I’m Lauren Ober. And from The Atlantic, this is: We Live Here Now.

In this episode, we try and tease out how Micki’s personal mission and Donald Trump’s political mission collided with each other. Warning: Hanna and I do not land in the same place on this one, and we have our very own hot-mic moment debating things. So lucky for you.

In her previous life, Micki wasn’t all that political. But almost as soon as she learned her daughter died, politics came up. On January 7, she gave an interview to Fox 5 in San Diego.

[Music]

Witthoeft: I would like to invite Donald J. Trump to say her name out loud, to acknowledge the passing of his loudest and proudest supporter, Ashli Elizabeth Babbitt.

Rosin: It’s revealing that at her saddest, Micki thought to call on Trump. You can hear that and think, Maybe there’s a hint of a possibility here that she thinks he should take some responsibility for Ashli’s death.

There was another woman who died on January 6 at the Capitol: Rosanne Boyland, a Trump supporter who was around Ashli’s age. She was crushed by the mob just outside the Capitol. The day after her death, her brother-in-law squarely and publicly blamed her death on Trump and QAnon for leading her astray.

Micki, too, could have decided that Trump spread the lie that the election was stolen to soothe his wounded ego, which lured her daughter to D.C. and got her killed. But she didn’t. Something moved her in the opposite direction. And for thousands—who knows, millions—of people, the meaning of January 6 started to shift along with her.

Trump didn’t know Micki’s name on January 7, because back then, he was on the defensive. There were reports that some Republican leaders were going to ask him to resign.That never happened. Instead, they settled at: How about we just forget this whole January 6th thing? Just don’t mention it.

And then around July 4, 2021, in a series of speeches, candidate Trump took a bold left turn—actually, a right turn.

[Crowd noise]

Donald Trump: Wow, that’s a lot of people. Thank you.

Rosin: It started, as best as I can tell, at a rally. It was July 3rd—nearly seven months after the Capitol riots. It was a Saturday in Sarasota, Florida. Trump is hitting all his usual rally points, and then you can hear him reach for something new.

Trump: The Republicans have to get themselves a real leader. You got some great senators, but they have to get themselves a real leader. And by the way, who shot Ashli Babbitt? Who shot Ashli Babbitt?

Rosin: With an investigation into January 6 just getting underway, Trump tried a new tack.

Trump: Who? Who shot Ashli Babbitt? I spoke to her mother the other day. An incredible woman. She’s just devastated like it happened yesterday. And it’s a terrible thing. Shot, boom, there was no reason for it. Who shot Ashli Babbitt? It’s got to be released.

Rosin: Four days later, he was talking about it again, this time at a press conference in New Jersey. At this point, the investigation was still not releasing the name of Michael Byrd, the Capitol Police officer who shot Ashli.

Trump: But the person that shot Ashli Babbitt—boom, right through the head. Just boom. There was no reason for that. They’ve already written it off. They said, That case is closed.

Rosin: She was shot in the shoulder, not the head. But Trump wasn’t interested in details here. They’ve already written off Ashli’s murder. They said the case is closed. Who was “they”? Of course, the same people who stole the election.

Five days after that, Trump is on Fox News:

Trump: Who shot Ashli Babbitt? People want to know. And why?

Rosin: Now, the Big Lie could easily have faded away—just been recorded in history books as that moment when a man named Donald Trump tried to subvert the peaceful transfer of power. But phew—democracy is resilient. The Department of Justice closed its investigation into Michael Byrd and said there was no reason to press charges. Problem solved.

But that’s not what happened. Ashli’s death became the most direct and vivid way to give the Big Lie new life. Trump invoked Ashli at rallies and on TV and in press conferences. He had landed on a powerful new strategy, and he worked it for the better part of a year.

Ober: Eventually, Micki landed in D.C., and within a month, she and Trump, who had both been talking about Ashli separately, were now talking about Ashli together. It happened in September 2022, when Trump called into the vigil Micki was hosting that night.

Witthoeft: You’re on livestream with different countries and our crowd outside. Thank you for calling, and you’re on. Go.

Trump: Okay. Well, Micki, it’s an honor to be with you. And to everybody listening, it’s a terrible thing that has happened to a lot of people that are being treated very, very unfairly. We love Ashli, and it was so horrible what happened to her. Micki, you’re asking me to just speak to everybody, but we cannot allow this to happen to our country. So God bless everybody. We are working very hard.

Witthoeft: Thank you for calling, President Trump. I know the men inside appreciate you, as I do as well.

Trump: And say hello to everybody.

Rosin: This is the moment their missions collided. Micki had asked for Trump to say her daughter’s name out loud, and he did. He said, “We love Ashli.” So when Micki and Nicole say to themselves, What did we get done on Freedom Corner?, this is a moment they can point to.

But many a grieving American mother has received a call from a powerful politician. It can be just a fleeting moment of political theater, or it can lead to something much bigger. In this case, I would argue that it’s the latter. And I can back that up based on what Lauren saw when she followed Micki to the biggest event on the conservative political calendar.

[Music]

Ober: In February of this year, I tagged along with Micki and the “Eagle’s Nest” crew to CPAC, the Conservative Political Action Conference. If Washington is Hollywood for ugly people, then CPAC is its Sundance. It’s been the premier Republican convention for the past 50 years. It usually happens just outside D.C., in suburban Maryland, and it’s become a place for conservative candidates to dry run new messaging.

Witthoeft: I think the check-in line is going to be a freaking zoo, because we don’t yet have our badges.

Ober: Yeah, but everything’s, like, electronic, so it seemed like they have enough spots.

Witthoeft: Yeah, but there’s a lot of old people, like me, that can’t work our shit.

Ober: Of course, the first thing I wanted to do when we got to CPAC was visit the vendor hall.

Ober (on tape): So now I’m in, like, Vendor Village area.

Ober: And I was not disappointed. There were folks hawking MAGA hammocks and vibration plates that shake your cellulite away and candles that smelled like freedom, allegedly. The drag queen Lady Maga was there, waving adoringly to her fan. And did I catch a glimpse of Mr. MyPillow himself, Mike Lindell? Yes, I did.

Ober: Also on offer—

Vendor: You wanna play some pinball?

Ober: I’m terrible at it.

Vendor: That’s okay.

Ober: But sure. Why not?

[Game noises]

Ober: A January 6 pinball game—

[Game noises]

Ober: What do I get if I win?

Vendor: You get a high score.

[Laughter]

Ober: —where I could get points for storming the Capitol.

Vendor: Save America. You made it to the Capitol.

Ober: Oh, like January 6.

[Game noises]

Ober: Okay, I wasn’t there to play Insurrection Pinball. I was there to observe.

As I followed Micki around the convention hall, it was clear to me that she was here to play a role. She was the living, breathing mother of the J6 martyr, complete with the costume: a T-shirt that read “ashli babbitt, murdered by capitol police, january 6, 2021.” Plenty of people recognized her. They did those sad, little pity smiles and asked for a handshake or a hug or a photo. More than a few people approached Micki and asked if they could pray for her.

Stranger 1: Dear Lord, thank you for this woman that’s here. And thank you for her bravery, and for her taking this season of pain and turning it into something that’s for your glory, Lord. And we know that you are victorious, and you will surround her with your comfort and your peace, and you will infuse her with strength, and just bless this whole weekend and every interaction she has. And we know that all is done for the glory of you. In Jesus’s name, amen.

Witthoeft: Thank you, ladies.

Stranger 1: You’re welcome. Good work. Good work.

Witthoeft: Thank y’all.

Ober: Three-plus years into playing this role, I could see it was wearing on Micki. She looked exhausted. Throughout the conference, stranger after stranger approached Micki.

Stranger 2: I’m so sorry for your loss. These people will be held accountable.

Witthoeft: I sure hope so.

Stranger 2: Justice will be served.

Witthoeft: Thank you, sir. I appreciate that. I hope so.

Ober: Micki is gracious about it, but I’ve been around her long enough by now to know that there are other things bubbling under the surface.

Ober: This happens again and again and again throughout the three-day convention. And Micki is gracious about it, but I’ve been around her long enough by now to know that there are other things bubbling under the surface.

Ober: Is it tiring when people come up to you and they say, Oh, I’m so sorry? Like—

Witthoeft: That’s not tiring. There are certain phrases that I find offensive. And people don’t mean them offensively, but sometimes they—

Ober: Like what?

Witthoeft: Like, the one that always gets me is: It could have been me. I don’t like that when people say that to me. My response is, Okay, thanks. Nice to meet you. Bye.

Ober: Right.

Witthoeft: I mean, I try not to be rude, because I know people don’t mean it in a way to be offensive. It’s recognition of Ashli’s sacrifice on a certain level. So I don’t want to be offensive back at them, because I don’t feel like they mean to be offensive to me. So I just, you know, try to be as polite as possible and move on.

Ober: Right. Right.

Witthoeft: Try not to say, Yeah? Well, I wish it was, and it wasn’t my daughter, because that’s not appropriate either. But the truth is, I wish it was anybody else. So you know, I don’t know how you respond to that as—

Coffee! Big-ass sign right there.

Ober: Okay, that conversation ended a bit abruptly. Anyway, on the last day of CPAC, Hanna came, and we met up in the press section, which looked like it was more filled with right-wing TikTokers than actual traditional journalists. Hanna and I were eating snacks and waiting for Trump’s speech to start when something familiar came over the loudspeaker.

J6 Choir: O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light—

Ober: My first thought was, What is this garbage recording? Surely, the Trump campaign could have found a higher-quality rendition of our national anthem.

But then we realized why the song sounded like that. This was sung at the D.C. jail, the J6 prison choir, which Micki played every night at the vigil over the loudspeakers.

Trump: I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America.

Ober: Mixed with Donald Trump reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.

Rosin: This was the fight song for the “Patriot Pod” prisoners, the musical backdrop to Micki’s dream about Ashli. And now the possible next future president was taking it up as his own.

Trump: I stand before you today, not only as your past and hopefully future president, but as a proud political dissident. I am a dissident.

Rosin: And in this speech—the darkest one of his campaign so far—he vowed to get revenge.

Trump: For hardworking Americans, November 5 will be our new liberation day. But for the liars and cheaters and fraudsters and censors and imposters who have commandeered our government, it will be their judgment day! Their judgment day.

[Crowd cheers]

Rosin: It would be an exaggeration to say Micki orchestrated this political moment. After all, she’d never really been into politics. Her San Diego life was just fine without mainlining Fox News. Maybe the more accurate way to say it is that between her dream and her enduring grief, she manifested this moment—where Trump and the J6ers became one—where Trump said over and over that if he became president, he would pardon the J6ers, basically, magically fulfilling Ashli’s vision in Micki’s dream.

Ober: The day after CPAC, we ran into Micki while walking the dogs and asked her what she thought of Trump’s speech. Apparently, she hadn’t seen it. The Eagle’s Nest crew left and went home before Trump even took the stage. When the politicians come in the room, she said, that’s when the bullshit starts.

Rosin: So the Micki–MAGA relationship—it’s pretty complicated. That’s after the break.

[Break]

Ober: If you ask Micki if she thinks all the jailed J6ers should be pardoned for their actions at the Capitol, her answer is probably not going to be the one you expect. More than once, Micki has told me that not everyone acted like a Boy Scout that day. So the more violent ones—or the folks who brought implements, like pitchforks, say—deserved to be punished. So Trump saying he’s gonna pardon all J6ers doesn’t really move her much. But she sees the utility of Trump talking about January 6. She can use him to bring attention to her cause, just like he has used her daughter as a campaign prop.

There are other things about Micki that don’t necessarily track with MAGA lunacy. She thinks that healthcare shouldn’t be tied to employment and that there should be term limits for judges and lawmakers. She’s pretty pro-LGBTQ, since Ashli was bisexual. And once, we had a five-minute conversation about gun control where we almost—almost—came to a shared conclusion.

Now, that doesn’t mean that Micki is turning blue any time soon. She’s more like a populist libertarian who often says impolitic things, even harmful things—like the time right before I met her, when she said this about Lieutenant Michael Byrd.

Witthoeft: Michael Byrd needs to swing from the end of a rope, along with Nancy Pelosi.

Ober: Byrd is Black. Micki is white. Which she discussed when she brought up the comment to me.

Witthoeft: You know, I mean, there’s much talk about me saying Michael Byrd should be swinging from the end of a rope. It’s saying, Oh, look at her. She’s calling for a lynching. I am not calling for a lynching.

Ober: Her explanation wasn’t exculpatory by any means, and no one should be calling for anyone’s execution. But I wanted to hear Micki out. So we’re gonna let this run because she landed in a place I didn’t see coming.

Witthoeft: A hanging and a lynching are two different things. A hanging occurs after a trial and you’re pronounced guilty, and your ass gets hung. That’s how it happens. It’s happened. And it’s happened not just to Black people, specifically. Lynchings—most of them are Black people. But hangings—hangings are retribution for something that you got coming to you. And they used to do it right on the battlefield. If you got convicted of treason, they would either shoot you or hang you. And that’s the way I meant that. And I said it about Nancy Pelosi too, and she’s about as white-bread as you come, which is another thing when people start talking about white privilege. I am not that white-privilege person. I have never had money. Ashli doesn’t come from white privilege. She worked hard for anything she ever had, and so has my family.

Ober: Sure. I have worked hard for everything I have, and I also have an enormous amount of privilege, largely due to my race and economic status.

Witthoeft: I understand that Black people have been treated in a different way than white people have in this country for a long time—well, forever. But I thought that we were making huge strides in that, until, you know—until I came to this city, actually. But what I will say is: Being the parent of a child that was murdered under color of authority.

Ober: Yeah.

Witthoeft: It does make me—’cause you don’t know until you know—it does make me identify somewhat with Black and brown mothers who have been going through this for decades, because their children have been murdered under color of authority without any avenue for retribution, for years.

Ober: You can see how a Black mother whose child was killed by police would forever mistrust authority. Micki landed in the same place. Only for her, the mistrust was supercharged.

Witthoeft: When they killed Ashli, they took a lot more from me than my daughter. They took my whole belief in the system that runs America from me. Even though, you know, It’s a little bad; it’s mostly good. I don’t believe that anymore. And so in that process, 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 don’t know. I mean, I don’t know what they’re up to. I really don’t know what they’re up to.

[Music]

Ober: Years from now, when Micki and Nicole ask themselves the question, What did we actually accomplish in D.C.? they might come up with an answer that has nothing to do with Trump or Justice for January 6. These two women who had only ever known themselves as wives and mothers learned they could whisper in a president’s ear and whip up the media and become impossible to ignore. And they could’ve only done it because they walked out of that courtroom together, hand in hand.

One of the things I’ve been most surprised about is the depth of their friendship, which is only a couple of years old. Since Ashli died, Micki can barely sleep. She’s had panic that takes her breath away and nightmares that make her weep. She can’t bear to sleep in a room by herself. So she and Nicole share the basement of the Eagle’s Nest, their mattresses pushed head to head. Oliver, the dog, plops himself in between the two of them like a canine headboard. Just hearing Nicole and her dog softly breathe is a comfort to Micki.

Witthoeft: I’ve bonded with Nicole in ways that I’ve bonded with very few people. There’s really nothing about me that Nicole doesn’t—I mean, I’m sure there’s things, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t say to her. Maybe that’s because we sleep head to head, and we yap all night, but I don’t know.

Ober: Micki had no idea who Nicole Reffitt was when she showed up at Guy Reffitt’s sentencing in August of 2022. But their connection was almost instantaneous.

Witthoeft: If you believe in love at first sight, which I don’t really do—I believe in sexual attraction at first sight, but I don’t know about love at first sight. But I think if that’s possible, then friendship at first sight is. And when I first saw Nicole, like I said, I had never met her, and I knew instantly who she was. And she just had this defiant, “strong-ass woman” look on her face, and I just knew she was somebody I could be friends with.

Ober: There was one moment early on in their living together that kind of sealed the deal for Micki.

Witthoeft: But when I knew that we would be friends forever, oddly enough—why do you always make me cry, Lauren? Shit. It was the day my dog died. Because she, you know—I was on the couch with Fuggles, and I couldn’t make it happen. I was like, I just—I wanted to call.

Ober: But she couldn’t. So Nicole called the vet and had Fuggles put down. That small kindness meant everything to Micki.

Witthoeft: I just thought at that minute that I truly loved her. I do.

[Music]

Ober: Now, because Nicole and Micki are often seen together, and because of that one hand-holding scene after Guy’s sentencing, the online haters have had a field day. Someone made a music video that mashed up their voices from the vigil with overtly sexual innuendo and patriotic imagery. It’s too crass for me to play for you here, but I’m sure you know how to Google, if you’re interested.

Recently, someone sent Nicole a cardboard mailing tube that said the words “oversizeddildos.com” plastered on the side. The tube was empty. Right after the mailer arrived, Micki texted me a photo. “Did you prank us?” she wrote. For the record, I did not. She wrote back: “I told you I hate it when the left is funny. There wasn’t anything in the canister. More empty promises.”

Ober: After I had a good laugh about the whole situation, I pushed Nicole to try to put a name to the love that they have for each other.

Ober: A lot of people’s intimate relationships can’t be defined. And so I could ask you, Okay, is it like you feel like a sister bond?

Reffitt: It’s more.

Ober: Is it like you feel, like—right. Like a—

Reffitt: It’s not sexual, but it is more.

Ober: Yeah. Like an intimate-partner bond.

Reffitt: Oh yeah. It’s definitely an intimate-partner bond.

Ober: Right.

Reffitt: I don’t even know what kind of love that must be, because I love Micki more than a friendship love. But you know, there’s not a lot of the sexual aspect of it. But there’s intimacy.

Ober: Mm-hmm. What does “intimacy” mean?

Reffitt: I don’t know. You can have intimate moments with someone while being fully clothed. You know, like, you can share very close feelings without touching anyone. So those are intimate moments, I think.

Ober: Like, give me an example.

Reffitt: Well, I’m not gonna tell you shit. I’m already telling you all this. I know, but like—

Ober: No. Because I’m just trying to understand.

Reffitt: I mean, I think this is—well, this is a level of intimacy. It’s a level that we’re having.

Ober: You and me?

Reffitt: Yeah. We’re being intimate. I mean, I’m being intimate with you.

Ober: Right. It’s not an equal exchange.

Reffitt: Exactly. Like, you’re not being intimate with me, but I absolutely am being intimate with you. So I’m being very vulnerable.

Ober: Mm-hmm.

Reffitt: But Micki is reciprocal. I mean, like, we’re sharing that.

Ober: Mm-hmm.

[Music]

Rosin: Would you say that you guys were friends?

Ober: I guess it depends on what your version of friend is. No. I mean, we’re neighbors.

Rosin: I pressed Lauren a lot about this. Obviously, she was a journalist, and it was her job to spend time with these guys. But had she become, like, friends friends with them? Is that a good thing? Is it dangerous? Sometimes we had fights about it. This one, for example—it’s the hot-mic moment we promised you.

Rosin: I feel so differently than you do about this. I don’t spend this much time with them. What I notice at the vigil is not what you notice at the vigil. I don’t think it’s fucking cute at all.

Ober: You think I think it’s cute? No. It’s fucking weird. But I also don’t think that it’s, like, shredding—

Rosin: No. I don’t think it’s weird. I think it’s absolutely destructive.

Ober: But, see, I don’t have any proof that it is. Like I don’t have proof that it’s destructive. I don’t have any notion that it’s any—

Rosin: How about Trump playing that song at Waco, Texas?

Ober: Of course, but it wasn’t about the J6—

Rosin: Who got that song into the public consciousness? Micki.

Ober: No, she didn’t, actually. She had nothing to do with it.

Rosin: Lauren, we just feel differently. To me, it’s like, I think Micki is a lovely, interesting, complicated person. And I think this mission that she’s on in D.C. is absolutely destructive.

Ober: Show me proof of destruction. That is not new. They have a platform—

Rosin: Okay, Micki didn’t cause it. Micki didn’t bring it into being. Micki created an audience for it. She brings Trump to them. She brings these politicians to them.

Ober: But it’s not—

Rosin: So you have to account for the things that Micki is supporting and laying out the red carpet for. Like, her ideology is meaningful.

Rosin: I dug in. This fight went on for, like, an hour and a half more. And by the end of it, nothing was resolved.

In our next episode: Lauren gets even closer to the action, and she asks herself whether she ruined a J6er’s life.

Marie Johnatakis: It was really surprising that they took him into custody then. And I just remember thinking, like, He’s not a danger. He’s been out this whole time. Can you please just let us? You know, we just need a little more help.

Ober: That’s on the next episode of We Live Here Now.

[Music]

Ober: We Live Here Now is a production of The Atlantic. The show was reported, written, and executive produced by me, Lauren Ober. Hanna Rosin reported, wrote, and edited the series. Our senior producer is Rider 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 Ebeid. Fact-checking by Michelle Ciarrocca. Art direction by Colin Hunter. Project management by Nancy DeVille.

Claudine Ebeid 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.