RYAN SAMSEL

Monday, March 11, 2024

The Honorable Jia M. Cobb

U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia
E. Barrett Prettyman U.S. Courthouse
333 Constitution Avenue
NW Washington, D.C. 20001

Regarding: U.S.—v—Ryan Samsel

Dear Judge Cobb:

I write this letter to apologize for the people I hurt because of my actions on January 6. I failed
to control my emotions, and as a result, I hurt our Demoracy and the citizens of this country
that I love. I made decisions that I regret, and I want to own up to that. I'm not just apologizing
because I got caught. I am deeply remorseful for my actions and I know that I've got to do more
to fix things. I owe my fellow citizens, who are the victims of my crime, this Honorable Court,
and the people I’ve hurt an explanation.

After listening to the testimony of Capitol Police Officer Caroline Edwards, I’ve reflected a lot on
the harm I’ve caused. Not just at January 6th, but throughout my life, I’ve lashed out at those
around me, leading to lasting physical and emotional damage. This case is a critical moment for
me to step on the brakes and finally reckon with this impulsive, destructive behavior.

To that end, I sought help in putting my thoughts on paper. I struggle with writing and didn’t
want my thoughts to be confused or misinterpreted. My hope is that this letter, combined with
my serving my sentence, may help those I have harmed heal from the damage I’ve caused.

I know I did things that really hurt people, and that hurt is probably more than I can imagine.
I’m not proud of the man I’ve been. My actions on January 6th are only the latest in a pattern of
decisions that does not reflect the person I want to be. This may be among my last
opportunities to finally confront my past and make a change for the better. I owe this change to
a lot of people – to my wife, to the memory of my father, to the people I hurt, to the people I’ve
frightened, and to myself – so I will not fail in that goal.

Whatever you decide, I will see my punishment through. I’m ready to be a different person and
am already working hard to do that. I hope that comes through in this letter.

Samsel 1
Background:
I was born on September 3, 1983, under less than ideal circumstances. My mother, Janine
Riffert, struggled with a heroin addiction, which she continued using throughout her pregnancy
with me. This early exposure had long-lasting effects on me, both physically and mentally. My
father, Samuel Samsel, despite his own struggles, convinced my mother not to abort me.
However, shortly after my birth, I was left at a Catholic orphanage and was picked up by the
state two days later.

I spent the first two years of my life in custody before being adopted by my dad’s older brother
and his wife, my Aunt Pat and Uncle Frank Dea. We lived in public housing in North Philly, which
was a tough neighborhood. My early life was far from easy. My mother's heroin use and her
neglect meant I was born with a learning disability and psychiatric behavioral issues. There was
talk of putting me on medication from a young age, but my aunt was against it. Instead, she
encouraged me to stay active and get involved in sports.

Later in life, my lawyer got a doctor to testify that I had psychiatric problems, and a study was
done. It turned out I had a personality disorder, and my IQ was in the lowest one percent.

Visiting my dad on weekends exposed me to a different kind of hardship. His physical and
verbal abuse, fueled by alcohol and heroin, was a constant source of pain. In fifth grade, a
series of unfortunate events seemed to spiral. An accident involving my grandmother’s blood
pressure medication likely caused a brain injury, further impacting my academic and personal
life.

Then, the unimaginable happened – my dad, while driving intoxicated, killed his brother. The
aftermath of this tragedy was significant. Martial arts, which had been a therapeutic outlet for
me, stopped. Isolated and struggling, I retreated to my room, focusing on solitary workouts to
cope with my increasing sense of worthlessness.

Despite these challenges, I managed to stay out of trouble. Considering the environment where
I grew up, I’m grateful that I avoided a criminal lifestyle. I lived in Bristol as a young man,
attending a school program for students with special needs, including kids who were nonverbal
and unable to read. The expectation wasn’t to excel but merely to show up to be allowed to
graduate. This unspoken agreement allowed me to get my diploma.

I see now, as an adult, how these early influences shaped me and my decision-making. By many
measures, I had a hard childhood. Those challenges contributed to my impulsivity, and drug use
made it worse. I understand that many people experience the same or worse, and they do not
go on to commit acts of violence—so I do not offer excuses. Just as my parents are not at fault
for my later drug use, I acknowledge that I am responsible for my behavior.

Samsel 2
Early Adulthood:
After I graduated from high school in 2002, I joined the Marines, eager to find direction and
purpose. The ASVAB, the test you need to pass to join, was a tough nut for me to crack, but I
eventually made it through. I went to MEPS, which is where they process you before you start
your service. During training for boot camp, my life took another turn – I got a blood clot and
found out I had a blood disorder. This led to me being generally discharged from the Marines,
and that's when things really started to go downhill for me.

My drug abuse became more severe, starting with marijuana and just being reckless. I
remember once, when I was out fishing, I ended up with a charge for defiant trespassing
because the guy I was with decided to steal a raincoat. Then things got worse. I had a fight with
my girlfriend and ended up hurting her badly. During this time, I hurt the people I cared most
about. There’s no excuse for my behavior and poor decisions.

I tried to get my life back on track and even tried to join the Marines again when I was about 22
or 23. At that time, I was dating someone new. But then I got hooked on opioids. They were
prescribed to me at first, and I didn’t realize I was becoming dependent on them. Again, I
physically hurt people.

I understand that there isn’t any excuse for my violent behavior. I have been wrong many times
in my life. The drugs are no excuse, nor is my difficult childhood. I did not control my
impulsivity. As a result, I hurt and frightened people.

I was rightly incarcerated for the damage I caused. I will admit that, at this time, I didn’t fully
grasp my responsibility in these crimes. The drugs I abused likely contributed to my mindset. It
didn’t help that I, in trying to give legal advice to another inmate, secured myself a witness
intimidation charge. I didn’t use my time in custody as an opportunity to look within myself to
see what I could change.

While serving my sentence, I did, however, take advantage of opportunities to build skills. I got
my barber's license and went through several sobriety programs. After my release, I worked in
a barber shop for six months. I got back together with my girlfriend, but I hadn’t learned the
lessons I needed to learn about impulse control and my responsibility for my actions. Instead, I
violently attacked my girlfriend. I was, again, incarcerated for the massive amount of harm I
caused this woman.

Looking back, I see that part of my slowness to recognize these things was because of my
worsening health, which made me feel like everything was out to get me. The doctors at
Einstein Hospital said it might be lymphoma. They put me on a heparin drip, which broke up the
clots, and later, I had surgery to fix some of the damage in my veins. They said I'd need to be on
blood thinners for life.

A year and a half later, I got more blood clots. This time, I was at UPenn Hospital. After another
surgery, they gave me tramadol, and that set off another addiction. Before I knew it, I was

Samsel 3
taking Percocet every day. I ended up losing almost everything. I went to state prison at 25 and
got out at 31, clean and sober. But then I relapsed.

All these things – the charges, the addiction, the health scares – they're parts of my life I can’t
change. But I’m trying to face them head-on. Throughout this period of my life, I didn’t stop to
question my conduct. Now, I see the endless cycles of feeling emotions I couldn’t control,
lashing out, hurting others, and then facing the consequences – and I want to break this
pattern.

Getting Sober:
Raechel, my wife, has been a large part of me getting my life on track. She's a therapist. When I
reached out to her for help to get clean, she didn't turn away. Instead, we came together, and
she's been by my side ever since. Getting clean wasn't a straight road for me. I've been in and
out of at least ten different rehab programs.

My rock bottom was when I found myself in Florida, living homeless on the beach. I'd spearfish
to get by once I felt well enough, but the real work was happening inside me. I chose to trap
myself away from everything, even my phone, to face my addiction head-on. And it worked. I
got clean, really clean, for the first time in a long while.

Back in Harrisburg, PA, I started getting monthly naloxone shots, the kind they call Vivitrol. It
was a game-changer. With my head clearer, I began counseling others who were fighting their
own battles with addiction. My faith grew stronger, too; I'd go to church and then do outreach,
helping those who were living on the streets. Life was not without its difficulties, but it had
meaning. The sense of duty I had for those struggling helped me stay on the right track,
avoiding drugs and controlling my impulses.

I was also working at a barbershop then. I started cutting hair for celebrities, drawing attention
to causes by appearing on national TV. Raising money for prostate cancer screening for black
men, who have this type of cancer more than others, was really important to me. I was raised
by and around black relatives who I thought about not being able to get screened. The same for
my nephews.

This work and my charity were going well until COVID hit, and they shut us down. My own
business wasn't spared. The government locked up my rental barbershop, and just like that, I
lost everything I had built. I felt confused and angry and scared.

I had, for the first time, really taken ownership of my life and was seeing the benefits pay off
– for me and those around me. Then, overnight, the business that gave me stability and
structure while allowing me to help others was out of reach. There was no number to call to
dispute the closure. I didn’t even know which government agency closed me down – I still don’t
to this day. I started to feel resentful and, before I could recognize it, started to slip back into
my victim mentality.

Samsel 4
I tried to resist this. I remember during COVID, even with everything locked down, I cooked
dozens of lasagnas for Thanksgiving to feed folks who had nowhere to go. I spent Christmas the
same way, giving back and helping people out. These are some of my favorite memories
because I was there once, too. I also found a gym in New Jersey called Atilis. The owner was set
on keeping the place open despite the shutdown orders. He even let me cut hair in his gym for
donations. It was there, in that unlikely place, that I got to talking with him about the rally in
Washington, D.C. on January 6th, 2021.

January 6th:
Rachel and I were invited to accompany the owner of the gym to D.C. that day. We thought it
was an opportunity to talk to some important people, to share our stories and maybe make a
difference. I don’t write well but I thought if I could speak with someone about what was
happening to my business and others, then maybe I could feel in control of something again. So
we headed down, just dressed normally. When we got there, it was overwhelming – people
everywhere, decked out in American flags.

I remember seeing this guy with horns giving an interview, and I thought, why not, let's take a
photo? It felt like a part of history. Then, I bought a MAGA hat, a shirt, and a Rambo flag from a
stand – it was like getting swept up in the moment. President Trump was speaking, but I
couldn’t hear a thing. That was okay by me.

As we started walking with the crowd toward the Capitol, things got intense. We found
ourselves in a kind of cul-de-sac, across a temporary fence from Capital Police Officers who were
preventing people from approaching the building.

Here, just as with other times in my past, I felt the tension build. I felt as though I had the right
to speak to the people who controlled what was happening to me. I wanted so desperately to
take control over something, anything and responded before I stopped to think. I pushed and
pulled on the fence, which led others to do the same.

It got chaotic, and I saw an officer fall. This was Officer Edwards, who, because of my actions,
lost consciousness and suffered injuries. I paused to help her back to her feet. This momentary
clarity came because, for the first time in my life, I saw the outsized influence my actions were
having on the crowd.

But then rubber bullets started flying. A kid, Joshua Black, next to me took a hit to the face. He
was bleeding and told me he was on blood thinners. This, combined with his blood loss,
frightened me, because I understood how dangerous a situation this was for him. I yelled for a
medic, and they brought the Quikclot to stop the bleeding. When the cops tried to arrest him, I
reacted rather than thinking. I pushed the officers away instead of trying to explain the
situation. I made a bad decision. It was the wrong way to get Mr. Black the care he needed, and

Samsel 5
to the officers whom I harmed and whose lives I endangered, I want to apologize to the officers
and to all for my actions.

Following these events, I was angrier than I knew what to do with. I felt helpless and powerless
to control the situation and my own emotions. But, at the gym, I worked and trained with law
enforcement officers, and I thought about how I didn’t have any hate in my heart for them. I
didn’t want physical confrontation, but I wanted people to feel angry like I did, so I threw things
– including a 2x4 – toward the building.

At the Capital, I hurt people whose names I will remember forever. But, in the years since these
events, I’ve come to see how big of an impact my actions had beyond that awful day. The
millions of people who were frightened by what I did and the many more who were shaken by
January 6th are owed an understanding of my conduct and my thinking from that day. I pray that
my fellow citizens, and this Honorable Court, understand that I am not offering excuses or
justifications for actions that are unjustifiable. My hope is by being honest, I might contribute to
the goals of justice.

Reflections:
In the years since that January day, isolated in a cell with only my own thoughts, I can't help but
think on how I arrived here. Each day that passes, I'm reminded of the consequences of my
actions – actions that led to my arrest and conviction. I wrote this letter because I’m ready to
face my consequences and want to be open with my experiences as part of that process.

I want to say, first and foremost, that I take full responsibility for what I did. I understand now,
more than ever, the weight of the decisions we make, no matter how small or impulsive they
seem at the time. The events at the Capitol, the chaos, the fear, and the injury it caused to
others haunt me. I wish I could undo that day and make different choices. But life doesn't work
that way. Instead, I face the reality of what occurred and the harm I caused.

My time in custody has given me the chance to reflect, not just on these events but on the life
that’s brought me to this point. This is not my first time in a courtroom. Before, when getting in
trouble with the law, I didn’t learn anything. You would be justified in viewing me skeptically for
thinking that has changed now. Past experiences with the criminal-justice system have left me
feeling like a victim of circumstance, but I’m determined not to repeat these mistakes. I know
that I’m not a victim in this matter.

Yet, this time has also been difficult – particularly on my physical and mental health. Beyond
the health challenges I deal with, panic attacks became frequent, each one leaving me more
raw than the last. The terror I feel when guards approached, the sound of keys jingling – these
became triggers for a fear and panic that has scared officers and myself.

Throughout my incarceration, the loss of my father hit the hardest. His death, while I was
behind bars and unable to say goodbye, has been a sorrow I struggle to articulate. And now, as I

Samsel 6
find myself in the role of caregiver for my Aunt and Uncle, I carry the burden of their well-being
along with my own.

I'm not looking for sympathy. I share this to illustrate my commitment to introspection and self-
improvement. Despite these challenges, I have dedicated myself to learning and growing as a
person. I recognize the role I played in the large amount of hurt caused on January 6th, and for
that, I am truly remorseful. Working through that means maintaining sobriety, looking inward,
and helping those who I can, regardless of the circumstances.

For example, the funds that have been generously donated by those who still support me have
not been for my benefit but for my Aunt and Uncle, who are confined to their apartment. They,
like many others, are the unseen victims of my actions, and it is to them and others I have
caused pain that I dedicate my efforts to improve. This is a small act, but one I hope to model in
my ongoing efforts to make amends.

My past actions have hurt many, including those I hold dear. And while I can't turn back time, I
can move forward with a focus on doing and being better. Your Honor, I want to be better. I
want to find durable sobriety, work on identifying my triggers, learn to control my impulses,
and be a person of whom my family can be proud. I will need help to achieve these goals, but
I’m ready and willing to do what it takes to accomplish them.

Whatever you decide, I will honor it and take fullest advantage of the time this Court sentences
me to.

This journey has not been easy, and the road ahead is unclear. Yet, I hold on to the belief that
redemption is possible for all of us. I am ready to face the consequences of my actions with
humbleness and courage. My apology, though it may not undo the past, is part of my trying to
make things right, to be accountable, and to show those I hurt my remorse.

Thank you for taking the time to consider my story, for your compassion, and for your
understanding.

Summary:
Your Honor, I ask for mercy in sentencing, though I also understand that I must face the
consequences of my actions. I am committed to making things right and doing everything I can
to reconcile with society and those affected by my actions.

Thank you for taking the time to read this letter.

Respectfully,

Samsel 7
Ryan Samsel

Samsel 8