Hispanic J-6er Peter Stager Survived a Childhood of Homelessness, a Heroin Addicted Mother, and Foster Homes – Now He’s Held in the DC “GITMO” and Refuses to be Broken — Here’s His Story…

 

By Kelly Wilde

Inconvenient to the Left’s narrative are voices like that of Peter Stager, a Jan 6 defendant who released a statement Sunday from inside the DC “Gitmo” jail.

Stager is a Mexican-American, husband of 17 years, father and tradesman who came to the Capitol on January 6th to show his support for our country and is now facing over 40 years in prison. Stager has been held for eleven months of pre-trial detention since his arrest on January 14th.

**You can donate to his Givesendgo here. www.givesendgo.com/G26PX

Like other Hispanic Americans, Stager’s love for freedom of opportunity, his life defined by personal agency, and his faithfulness to God have determined his political affiliation with populist candidates across party lines, including most recently Republican candidate President Donald Trump.

In his statement, Stager describes the childhood that built his character, and the character that led him to the Capitol.

His statement is published in full below.

I will try to give you a glimpse into the mind of a man who came into this world as Peter Lopez. My story is not much different than many of our brothers and sisters in our modern American setting. It is one that you could call an American success story. I like to think of myself as pragmatic and optimistic.

         I was a middle child, the product of a Mexican national and a heroin addicted prostitute mother. You would be right to guess my brothers and sister were from a plethora of Johns. I pull no punches and ask you to not think of us as victims. We had love, but were forged by our experiences. Our development as individuals imprinted on our hearts our essence established in these early years. Mama, although addicted, did her best to keep us alive and fed. In the process she taught us to survive, to be resourceful, and to never stop hoping for a better life. Even while subjecting us to theft, violence, drugs, and human trafficking, mainly the sex trade.

         Although we were homeless we had each other, free to wander in America. Looking back it amazes me to know how naive we were due to our innocence and how our Heavenly Father blessed us so much. He comforted us through the wilderness and by His grace protected us. One of my most vivid memories was the Park. This specific Park we took up as our residence. We were protected from the rain by the playground slide at night. It was every child’s dream to have such a home. We could play our hearts out in our own castle, and we did.

         The biggest obstacle we faced was our bellies. One of our favorite ways to help get food was to go to the corner store. Once there, my sister and I would act like we couldn’t find our mother. The manager would always help us locate her while we filled our lunch pale with food as we walked. The ruse was one we rehearsed with mama and our other siblings. We believed it was successful and it fed us many meals. Looking back I believe the managers just felt sorry for us and allowed us to steal from them knowing we were homeless. I imagine our smell and appearance was noticeable to all involved except us. The majority of our meals came from dumpsters or charitable strangers. I refer to this as the American spirit of brotherhood to one in need. This is one of the most important things I have taught my own children.

         It wasn’t much longer that our young lives would be shattered. Our days together to be forever altered and paths to be scattered in the wind. We were left in the care of our eldest sister, Gina. She had a breakdown, most likely a bad drug reaction from one of the Johns. We returned to the hotel room later to a calmer Gina. Little did we know mama had taken off and we would never see her again. I can’t even imagine the pain she was in to up and leave her entire family in that hotel room. The pressure on Gina’s shoulders must have been enormous. Her only means of employment was the Johns and she had many mouths to feed now. It’s truly amazing what love for others will allow a human to sacrifice. I don’t ever recall telling Gina I loved her, but hope to one day be reunited so I can thank her and give her a hug. I have a sinking feeling down inside that mama and Gina are no longer with us in the flesh and pray they came to know our Lord and Savior.

         We were out of money and hungry so we went door knocking to ask for help. The lucky guest who answered was shocked by our appearance and ushered us in since no adult was in sight. They fed us and talked to us about our parents. I still remember the strawberry shortcake and the whipped cream. We must have been a sight to behold half starved and fed so much sugar. Then from the door came a knock. I remember thinking mama going to want some of this cake. To our surprise it was the police. The officers loaded us up and we soon became wards of the state of California. We were what was referred to as “throw aways” and statistically we were likely to be imprisoned or dead by the age of 21. I don’t know about you but that kind of nonsense just fueled my fire to succeed and to prove them wrong. I will never subscribe to victimhood. This is America, the greatest Republic ever created. Opportunity is on every corner, all you have to do is try hard.

         As a ward of the state of California we were subjected to drugs, physical abuse, sexual abuse, and psychological torture. I know now as a grown man that we remember the traumatic things the most. I have many memories of fun times. Yet the bad linger, like the day our baby brother was taken from us. This was hard on my sister and I. We never got to see him again. It was like he just vanished. My sister and I only had each other from this day forward.

         Ours days as Lopez children were coming to an end. The Stager family was picking us up for lunch and soon we were at a park. I can remember running around and taking in all the attention. It was easy for a young boy who just wanted to be loved, hugged, and even smiled at. The only obstacle that was a sticking point was my rock back then, my sister. She was tormented and suffered great pains at many peoples hands and it was a hard sell for grown ups to adopt. The Stagers were parents to two children already and were looking for a male child only. Soon we were back in the foster home thinking we were stuck. Then the call came that the Stagers discussed it and decided they couldn’t split us up. They wanted both of us. Our Heavenly Father shields us again, blessing us with His grace once more.

         Soon we were issued new papers by California and with a snap of the fingers new names. The past was hidden and we were no longer Lopez but Stagers. The introduction to the huge family was overwhelming and love was always abundant. My family consists of many different tones and shades, all of which are American first. We are Mexican American, African American, and I believe German American. Then there was my mothers family, the Waymack’s side which was even bigger in the south. A place called Arkansas. They have a mascot which is a Razorback and a fish that is a cat. It sounded like an amazing adventure and we were lucky enough to be invited.

         I want to thank you all for your prayers and time. I will continue this adventure in another article that will hopefully go out soon. Just know that I have overcome many obstacles in my life. I look forward to learning new things and spreading love despite this current tribulation. I’m thankful for my family, friends, and all the prayers worldwide. I thank God for the opportunity to suffer with this group of men. With His grace and the truth we can not lose this fight. Remember how they lied about Kyle Rittenhouse, Jussie Smollett, and the Steele dossier. The media, FBI, and DOJ have misled everyone and the truth will soon be revealed. We have the receipts and the narrative they have spun will not hold up to the light. I am one of many men of color imprisoned with these supposed “white supremacists”. These men are Americans and I’m proud to call them brothers. They have not shown me hate or anything radicalized, mostly just love.

         Please continue to send prayers to our families, Ashli Babbitt, Roseanne Boyland, the fallen soldiers, men and women, whoever has put on a uniform and fallen in the line of duty. Thank you all for supporting our ” Jan 6 For DC Kids” Christmas initiative and continuing the American spirit of giving. My family thanks you for your support in these trying times. Your donations to my GiveSendGo will help with my defense team. God bless the Republic, God bless the American people, and God bless our adversaries that they may join us in His light and renounce the darkness.

 Peter Stager faces accusations of assault of an officer in very close proximity to that of Rosanne Boyland, who’s murky story is emerging with increasing evidence as the killing of an unarmed woman by excessive force used by Metropolitain police.

As the truth of that day comes slowly to light, Stager’s characteristic resilience is shining in new ways. Under the shocking and unconstitutional conditions he is being held, Stager has counseled other men in the jail, sharing the strength he has found in God through life’s greatest trials. He has built a reputation inside the jail for being a kind and generous soul.

Stager is a father of two teenagers with no criminal history. Any help you can spare to see that his family can breathe a sigh of relief during a holiday they will spend without his shining example will be greatly appreciated.