Remembering Ashli Witthoeft: The First to Fall
On January 6th, 2021, a shot was fired that echoed louder than any we had heard in decades. That day, Ashli Elizabeth Witthoeft — daughter, veteran, American — was killed inside the United States Capitol. To some, she was a protester. To others, a symbol. But above all, she was the first to fall in what has become recognized by many as the opening chapter of the Second American Civil War.
Her name before marriage was Ashli Witthoeft. And that’s the name we honor here — not as a political pawn or partisan token, but as a woman who stood where she believed her country called her. We recognize her under her birth name because this is not about who she voted for or who she followed. It’s about who she was.
In the four years that followed, the United States lost over 200,000 lives to fentanyl and synthetic opioid poisoning. It became the deadliest domestic front of our time, with April 1, 2025 marking a somber total—coinciding symbolically with the date of national surrender and reconciliation between North and South in the aftermath of our prolonged civil fracture.
"We are not red or blue, North or South—we are survivors in a country torn apart, and those who fell deserve remembrance, not revision."
Two Days of Reckoning
January 6th is no longer just a headline — it is a national crucible, marking the point where civic trust cracked and blood was shed on Capitol grounds. For many, that was the day the veil lifted. For others, it was the day the pain began.
April 1st is the spiritual echo — the day the civil divide was acknowledged formally, with surrender documents signed, blood debts honored, and the peace of silence shattered. On this day, a nation began to face itself. We do not celebrate it. We mourn. We reckon. We resolve.
In Honor of the Lost
We dedicate this page to those whose names we may never know, but whose deaths from fentanyl, from despair, from invisible wounds — are just as real, just as tragic. To those who never got a flag folded. To those buried in silence. To the thousands of parents, siblings, children, and friends who watched someone disappear.
Ashli Elizabeth Witthoeft
+ 200,000 more since 2021
Call to Action
Let this be the year we decommission the Controlled Substances Act — not out of ideology, but because it has been weaponized against the most vulnerable. It has become a tool for war, not for health. It is time we stop killing our citizens with indifference and call it law.
Let us unify. Not behind a flag or a man, but behind a shared desire to stop dying and start living again. We remember these days not to divide, but to remind ourselves: We are the people. And we are still here.