Presidential Silence
A dispatch encrypted in grief. A breath carved from betrayal.
Dispatch: 09.11.2025 · Salem, Oregon · Encryption Level: Severe
Written in the aftermath of deception, where silence was not passive—it was policy.
He said, “It’s going to disappear. One day—it’s like a miracle—it will disappear.”
And we watched the numbers rise.
We watched the ventilators run out.
We watched the miracle turn into mourning.
He said, “Anybody that wants a test can get a test.”
And my sister waited 11 days for results.
And my neighbor died before hers came back.
And the nurses wore trash bags as armor.
He said, “99% of cases are totally harmless.”
And I watched my friend lose her father.
And her mother.
And her ability to breathe without panic.
He said, “We’re doing a great job.”
While refrigerated trucks lined hospital parking lots.
While families said goodbye through glass.
While the death toll passed 200,000 and kept climbing.
He said, “This is their new hoax.”
And I screamed into a mask.
And I held my breath in grocery aisles.
And I buried my rage in silence.
He said, “Only 6% actually died from COVID.”
And I read the death certificate myself.
And I saw the cascade: lungs, heart, kidneys, gone.
And I knew the virus didn’t just visit—it devoured.
He said, “We’re rounding the corner.”
And the corner was a cliff.
And we fell.
And he kept smiling.
This dispatch is not about politics.
It is about the cost of a lie.
The cost of silence dressed in suits.
The cost of a leader who chose ego over empathy.
I do not write this to debate.
I write it because I remember.
I remember the silence that followed the lies.
The silence that screamed louder than truth.
He did not forget us.
He erased us.
With every denial.
Every deflection.
Every time he said “we’re winning”
while we were bleeding.
I built this dispatch from the wreckage.
From the unanswered calls.
From the mothers who buried children
and were told to be grateful for the flag.
Presidential Silence.
A dispatch encrypted in grief.
A breath carved from betrayal.
A truth that refused to be drowned.