Memory is a mosaic of recollected moments. Some are gorgeous epiphanies of the Meaning behind all matter. Others are sparks of excitement that kindled into joy when we met those whom we’d long love. Still others are seemingly random flecks of crackling, wondrous absurdity — often centered on children or pets, which support us when the present is somber or boring.

Then there are those other moments. The experiences and realizations that still have the power to make our guts seize up, that drop out the ground beneath us like a trap door into darkness. For each of us those are different, and some intensely personal, centered on fear, or shame, or grief. But there is a store that most of us have in common, just  as our parents’ generation shared the bitter memory of where they were when John F. Kennedy was shot.

The traumas I shared with millions might resonate with you, if you’re of age to remember them:

• The 1979 capture of our diplomats in the embassy in Teheran, which started a period of intense national humiliation and helplessness.
• The moment when Ronald Reagan was shot, which for hours seemed like a possible prelude to World War III.
• The shooting of Pope John Paul II, which looked like a first move by the Soviets to quash the freedom movement in Poland.
• The 1991 attempted coup against Mikhail Gorbachev by Communist hardliners. For as far back as I can remember, I’d always assumed that I knew how I would die: in a nuclear war, leaving behind no legacy, no descendants, no one who remembered me. Gradually, with Gorbachev’s reforms, that black, suffocating cloud had lifted. Now suddenly, with the acts of those Soviet generals, it seemed to be hurtling back down on us like a tornado. Those were the worst days of my life up to that point.
• September 11, 2001. I gathered with other New Yorkers outside our local Starbucks, desperate for news, quite ready to think that Russia or China had launched a world-ending war. For weeks afterward, as news trickled in of who’d been crushed beneath the buildings or jumped from their windows, the stench of melted metal and incinerated New Yorkers tainted the air and gagged us.

The Demons of the 2020 Election

I have two more ghosts to summon, which were somehow more macabre than any of these, worse even than the deaths of each of my parents:

• November 3, 2020. I sat with a friend watching the election results, profoundly shocked and confused. Not because my candidate was losing by the numbers, but because of the obvious fakery we could see before our eyes. Vote counting suddenly ceasing, all across the country, for no plausible reason. Fake water main breaks, alleged computer problems … the excuses came quick but were thin. And in the middle of it all, the bizarre, unforgettable spectacle of states like Pennsylvania where as the vote counting continued, Donald Trump lost votes rather than gained them. How does that actually happen? Has anyone explained it? Do we even ask such questions anymore?
• January 6, 2021. Even as Mike Pence betrayed his promise to Donald Trump and his voters to challenge the rampant voter fraud referenced above, thousands of peaceful, prayerful, and patriotic Americans rallied for truth. With the help of a few hotheads and embedded federal agents, those people were turned by a captured media and politicized justice system into domestic terrorists. On January 7, I became one of the first writers in the country to call out this fraud for what it was. Go read the story we published here on January 8. I can stand by every word.

Through all the propaganda, the cheap sermonizing and Stalinist purge trials, the betrayals by Fox News, GOP leaders, and “regime Christians,” Americans didn’t forget. The percentage of Americans who believe there was significant fraud in the 2020 election has grown in the past three years, not diminished. Almost 70% of Republicans and 38% of the electorate as a whole are deeply suspicious. They believe their lying eyes, even if they’ve never dug deeply by watching Steve Bannon’s War Room or viewing the brilliant 2000 Mules, which focused on vote harvesting made easy thanks to the lax rules snuck in under the cover of the COVID panic.

A Film That Disinfects Our National Wound

Now there’s a film which can help us to process those traumas, the blatant, Honduras-in-the-1950s-style election fraud, and the vicious fascist crackdown that followed January 6. You’ve probably never heard of it, thanks to massive media blackouts, cyberattacks, and the debanking of its producers. Now, thankfully, the film is available gratis on social media platforms. In fact, its maker, David Clements, has said he hopes it becomes “the most pirated film in history.”

I hope so too.

As its official website explains:

Let My People Go is a modern-day deliverance story rooted in biblical themes and archetypes, but instead of examining the bondage of the children of Israel by Pharoah, the film focuses on the bondage of the American people. “Pharoah” is replaced by a wholly infiltrated and weaponized U.S. government directly and indirectly influenced by CCP and Marxist forces. The film presents two overlapping narratives of America’s enslavement. The first form of slavery is achieved using proprietary “black boxes” and software, where swamp candidates are selected rather than elected. Massive ballot harvesting operations provide the paper trail to cover up the greatest crime in our nation’s history — the removal of Donald J. Trump. The second form of slavery focuses on the real-life consequences of the Americans who gathered and protested the theft of their votes on November 3 — the January Sixers — that now languish in prison.

David Clements is a hero who was fired from his tenured academic job for protesting COVID-panic insanity, then questioning the election. He has suffered massive lawfare attacks attempting to disbar him. He travels incessantly with what money he can raise, helping the families of January 6 political prisoners and exposing election corruption.

And the film he made is beautiful, haunting, intensely persuasive. For those of us still traumatized by the theft of our own country, watching it is therapeutic. Clements uses animation, expert testimony, and easily accessible arguments to explain the electronic side of the 2020 fraud. (That’s the part which 2000 Mules didn’t cover, which even the great Sidney Powell struggled to explain in layman’s terms.) 

But the most powerful aspect of this stunning, convicting film is the faith that keeps Clements going. He marches up to face down dishonest officials, to speak plainly to biased reporters, with the joy and peace that the early Church reported the martyrs had as they marched to face the lions. This man has the spirit of God, which has always infused America at her best. As we face a pivotal election which our masters seem determined again to steal, we couldn’t do better than to meditate on this film and its lessons, and share it with everyone we know.

Let’s pray for the victims in prison, for those who died at the Capitol, and all those who still are suffering at the hands of the Biden regime. But let’s say prayers of gratitude also for Americans like David Clements. It’s a privilege to share a country with them.

John Zmirak is a senior editor at The Stream and author or coauthor of ten books, including The Politically Incorrect Guide to Immigration and The Politically Incorrect Guide to Catholicism. His upcoming book is No Second Amendment, No First.