Will Leitch, writing on his Medium account, asks us to do one thing.

This week, former President Donald Trump will face impeachment for the second time. It is unknown, as of yet, how the trial will go down. There are rumblings that Democrats, not wanting to distract from President Biden’s agenda and pretty certain they don’t have the Republican votes to convict, may try to breeze through the proceedings, not wanting to wade back through the muck again. There have already been arguments that we need to “move on,” that dwelling on the past is somehow “divisive.”

But it wasn’t that long ago; was it even the past? It’s still so easy to remember. It was a thunderbolt of terror, injecting itself into every aspect of our daily world, tearing at the very fabric of everything that American life is supposed to be about. It does not look likely that the Senate will convict the former President, and while I’d like to see him held accountable, if I’m being honest, I don’t care about that part all that much. I just want that day to remain vivid in our minds, still burning bright white, and the culpability of everyone involved to be a permanent mark on their names for the rest of their lives. It was truly wretched, pure awfulness, the worst collective “standing at the television aghast” moment since September 11. We have been implored to never forget that day. We must never forget this one either. I know my family never will. I suspect yours won’t either.  

Personally, I’d like to see him convicted.