There is a lot to unpack from President Donald Trump's second inauguration and first day in office. The tech oligarchy, which now controls how many Americans get their news and information, sat up front as honored guests. Then there were the orders that changed the names of the Gulf of Mexico and Mount Denali, for which there was no demand. And Elon Musk's bizarre stiff-armed salute, met with horror by Europeans while others dismissed it as a from-the-heart gesture or mere social awkwardness.

The bullet directly to the heart of democracy, on a day that should have been one of healing, is the sweeping pardon Trump issued for nearly 1,600 people who took part in the Capitol riot of Jan. 6, 2021. The order includes those convicted of nonviolent crimes, like disorderly conduct and trespassing, but also those found guilty of seditious conspiracy and assaulting police in an effort to stop the certification of Joe Biden as president.

Seditious conspiracy is a serious crime; to get a conviction, prosecutors have to show defendants "actively plotted to overthrow by force the federal government, to levy war against it, to unlawfully seize federal property or 'by force to prevent, hinder or delay the execution of any law of the United States.' " It is very rarely invoked because of the circumstances that spawn it.

This is what that means: Ethan Nordean of Auburn, a prominent member of the far-right Proud Boys who had been sentenced to 18 years in prison for seditious conspiracy — among the longest sentences handed to any of the prosecuted Jan. 6 defendants — is free. Nordean is clearly visible in photographs marching to the Capitol, bullhorn in one hand, beer in another. Prosecutors called him the "undisputed leader on the ground on Jan. 6," leading a crew of nearly 200 to attack the U.S. Capitol. They also cited a podcast called "Warboys," in which Nordean referenced "the day of the rope" for "traitors" who were urging acceptance of the 2020 election results.

Some of the others from Washington — all freed, or about to be — include Richard Slaughter of Orting, who was awaiting trial and who grabbed a police officer's riot shield and used a pole to attack officers on the front line of the Capitol entrance; Tucker Weston, of Lynnwood, serving time for shoving police officers using a bike rack and smashing equipment of news media covering the riot; and Mark Jefferson Leffingwell of Seattle, who pleaded guilty to punching federal police officers. Freeing them fits Trump's continuing narrative that Jan. 6 was a "day of love" and continues the raft of falsehoods about the peaceful intent of the rioters, and what he did, or did not do, as the events unfolded.

Trump's proclamation states that his efforts end "a grave national injustice that has been perpetrated upon the American people over the last four years and begins a process of national reconciliation." The injustice here is that Americans who tried to thwart a peaceful transfer of power, brought about by an election repeatedly proved to be fair and legally executed, not only skate by with few repercussions but are being celebrated as some sort of prisoners of conscience. We've already endured a Trump administration's denial of reality and attempts to undo history (and science). This one represents a tectonic shift in our politics — that much of what this country stands for no longer matters. Principles and rights — and yes, responsibilities — that people died to protect have been discarded and disrespected, and "might makes right" is rising as a motto. Is this what we want? When the ground shakes, take cover.

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