“At [Noah Pozner’s] school, the high-pitched din of 350 children, kindergarten through fourth grade, excited about the coming holidays, filtered through the hallways and into the parking lot as [the shooter] parked his mother’s black Honda Civic precisely, then walked the few paces to the door. He wore sunglasses and a black bucket-style brimmed hat, a black polo-style shirt with a black T-shirt underneath. He also wore an olive-drab fishing-type vest, whose pockets he’d stuffed with ammunition. He carried a Glock 10 mm handgun in the pocket of his black cargo pants, cinched tightly with a web belt to hold them up on his skinny frame. He had strapped another gun, a Sig Sauer 9 mm to his leg. In his hands, sheathed in fingerless gloves, he carried a Bushmaster AR-15-style rifle, similar to the one he’d used an hour earlier to murder his mother…shooting her four times while she slept. [His mother] had bought the rifle her son used to kill her, along with the Bushmaster and the two handguns. Six feet tall, [the shooter] weighed only 112 pounds. In his mind, starvation equaled self-control and power. He wore earplugs…”
- Elizabeth Williamson, Sandy Hook: An American Tragedy and the Battle for Truth
This one is about as tough as they come. It takes you to the darkest places the mind can go.
Imagine you are a parent, getting your child ready for school. It is the holiday season in mid-December. Imagine what they are wearing, their clothes emblazoned with Marvel superheroes and Disney princesses. Imagine dropping them off, telling them goodbye. What are the last words you say to them, without knowing they will be the last words you say?
Imagine getting a text later in the day: school is on lockdown. Imagine getting more texts, then phone calls, confused and panicked inquiries: have you heard? Imagine getting in your car and racing to the school. Imagine how long that drive takes.
Imagine what you see when you arrive. Dozens of police cars, ambulances, firetrucks. Imagine the large men in tac vests and assault rifles standing impotently on the perimeter. Imagine the kids running out in a single-file line, their hands on each other’s shoulders, their eyes closed because they have been told not to look at what the inside of their school has become.
Imagine searching for your child. Imagine being unable to find them. Imagine waiting for hours in a fire station, knowing the worst has happened, but still clinging to that last shred of faith that there is a just god somewhere in the infinity of the universe, a god that can run-back time and re-ravel the unspooled threads of your existence.
Imagine that they let you in the school – they would not, but imagine. Imagine the tacky squelching beneath your feet from the estimated 45-60 gallons of blood that has been exsanguinated. Imagine the smells. Imagine the bits of flesh, bone, and brain that have been spattered on the walls, ceiling, and floor, transported there by .223 caliber bullets traveling at around 3,200 feet per second. Imagine trying to find your child. It will be hard, not just because of the physical damage, but because of the tangled position of the bodies, which a medical examiner called “a dogpile of children.”
Imagine that first moment when you know your child has died before age eight. Imagine how long your own life might feel. Imagine that weight.
Imagine that shortly thereafter, a man on the internet says that your child didn’t die. Imagine, in fact, that he says your child never existed.
Imagine the phone calls you start to receive. The emails. Imagine the people who are physically stalking you, shouting at you, mocking you. Imagine being forced to switch phones, switch jobs, switch homes. Imagine having to move to another state. Imagine how they follow you.
Then imagine someone threatens to kill you.
That’s the infuriating, emotionally-draining, entirely necessary tale that Elizabeth Williamson tells in her magisterial, epically-reported Sandy Hook.
***
Sandy Hook is about a lot of things, but mainly it’s about the way the internet in general, and social media in particular, has created a system whereby a delusion can be turned into an opinion, an opinion transformed into fact, and the “fact” made into something that can be forced down another person’s throat, at the point of a gun if necessary.
***
This is a tough book to summarize because it contains so much. Broadly speaking, it follows a chronological arc that begins with a brief, subdued retelling of the shooting itself, follows some of the victims’ parents through the wrenching aftermath (one family shows Williamson a scarf with six holes in it; the seventh hole bored into their child), merges its narrative with the rise of the hoaxers, and ends with charlatan-in-chief Alex Jones being sued for defamation.
Between the first literal shot fired from the killer’s Bushmaster, to the first legal shots fired by the parents’ attorneys, Williamson takes many paths, following the Sandy Hook story as it splits like the limbs of a tree.
Three parents in particular are highlighted: Neil Heslin, Robbie Parker, and Lenny Pozner. Of the three, Pozner takes center stage, as he ultimately fought back against the hoaxers, using the Digital Millennium Copyright Act to take down copyrighted material, and founding the Honr Network to defend the targets of online abuse.
Williamson also spends a lot of time with the hoaxers themselves, delivering surprisingly restrained, even empathetic portraits of vicious liars. Chief among them is Jones himself, the founder of Infowars, a far-right website trafficking in fake news. An intrepid journalist, Williamson even managed to get an interview with the man (one of over 350 interviews upon which this book is based).
Along the way, Williamson talks about the psychology of hoaxers with experts, expounds on the First Amendment and defamation law, and discusses other conspiracy theories, including a thorough and chilling recounting of Pizzagate. If you are blessed not to have heard of this event, it involved a man taking an AR-15 to a family pizzeria, because he thought the owner was hiding sex-trafficked children for Hillary Clinton.
This section alone had me looking upwards to the heavens, asking for some benevolent intercession to destroy the internet and its many toxic byways.
***
One of the more disheartening aspects of a disheartening book is the unimaginable depth of the problem. This isn’t simply about correcting misinformation. The disease has spread far beyond the ability of Snopes to counter.
Hoaxers often say they’re “just asking questions.” In reality, they have settled on an unassailable truth that becomes inseparable from their identities. As such, they cannot be reasoned with.
In an actual criminal investigation, forensic evidence is gathered and tested in a lab; photographs are taken; eyewitness testimony is gathered and collated; and surveillance footage and body cam images are studied. For a hoaxer, though, “research” amounts to “anything I read online that I agree with.” This makes it hard to combat untruth with fact, though Williamson tries on occasion.
For example, one of the weird seams that hoaxers cling to is the allegedly-shrouded identity of the company that did the crime-scene cleanup. Williamson finds out the company’s name with a single phone call, and then interviews its owner. When she confronts a hoaxer with this simple act of Journalism 101, the hoaxer is unimpressed. This should not be surprising. The September 11, 2001 terror attacks were the most documented crime in all of human history. Despite the near-24-hour video coverage – the second plane that crashed in New York did so on live television – there are still people who scoff at the “official” story.
In other words, arguing with hoaxers is a waste of the energy it takes to tap a key.
***
The millions of digital pitchfork-wielders who listen to people like Alex Jones – shrill and shrieking basement dwellers who are obsessed with elaborate conspiracies and false flag operations – are motivated by many things, among them stunning ignorance, mental illness, and pure meanness. They seek to blame the state of their lives on issues like gun control, race, and gender. Going after them is next to impossible.
Instead, the Sandy Hook families rightly went after the people – such as Jones – who actually packaged and published the lies. While this can only ever make a dent, it sends the signal that there is at least the possibility of consequences. Perhaps the next time someone tries to follow in Jones’s footsteps, they will hesitate, knowing that they might be bankrupted.
***
While Jones’s followers believed him for a variety of pathological reasons, Jones himself was motivated by greed. He made a fortune in ad revenue, hocking a variety of boner pills and diet supplements (which tells you a lot about his audience, I suppose).
Money is also the big reason why the huge tech companies have been dragging their feet. They could be doing many things, such as vigorously deleting hate speech and falsehoods disguised as news; reducing anonymous postings; purging bots; verifying users; and simply turning off the comments section on news articles, since it’s entirely unnecessary, and serves only as a platform for propagandists. But these companies don’t want to do this, because any engagement – whether it’s positive or negative – means increased advertising profits.
Unable to affect any systemic change, the families went after wallets. They forged a strategy to confront a notorious liar in the courts of the law, made him recant his untruths, and forced him to literally pay for them. Sandy Hook ends before the massive judgments delivered against Alex Jones. Even if the families see only a fraction of the damages sought, there is some redemption there. Of course, it is a shallow consolation. The problem we face with misinformation goes well beyond Jones and the Sandy Hook massacre, to encompass an alternate reality that will challenge the very pillars of democracy in the years to come.
***
Imagine you had a child. Imagine that child was murdered in their school. Imagine someone told you that your child didn’t exist. Imagine that people you’ve never met harassed you, hounded you, tried to destroy a life that had already been gutted.
Imagine what you would do.