Five years after the violent assault on the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, the event continues to shape American politics in ways both familiar and unsettling. What began as an effort to overturn the certification of the 2020 presidential election has since become a defining fault line—one that still divides public memory, political accountability and the meaning of democratic norms.

This week’s anniversary arrived not with national reflection or consensus, but with renewed tension. Former President Donald J. Trump marked the moment by repeating the central falsehood that fueled the attack in the first place: that the 2020 election was “stolen.” It was not. Courts rejected that claim dozens of times. State officials from both parties certified the results. Federal agencies found no evidence of widespread fraud.

Yet five years on, the lie remains politically useful.

In Washington, roughly 100 individuals who were pardoned for their roles in the Jan. 6 attack gathered publicly, signaling that they believe the moment belongs to them. Some spoke openly about retribution, framing themselves as victims of injustice rather than participants in a violent breach of the seat of American democracy.

Among them was Enrique Tarrio, the former leader of the Proud Boys, who avoided explicit calls for violence but used language that echoed grievance and retaliation. The rhetoric underscored a troubling reality: the line between accountability and revenge remains dangerously blurred in parts of the political ecosystem surrounding Mr. Trump.

On his first day back in office, Mr. Trump issued pardons to approximately 1,600 individuals connected to the Jan. 6 attack. The move, sweeping in scope, effectively erased the legal consequences for many who had been convicted or charged. For critics, the pardons were not acts of reconciliation, but of revisionism—an attempt to rewrite the historical record and normalize political violence.

The facts of that day, however, remain unchanged. A mob breached the Capitol. Law enforcement officers were assaulted. Lawmakers fled for safety. The constitutional process of certifying an election was interrupted for the first time in modern American history. At least five people died during and in the immediate aftermath of the attack, including a Capitol Police officer.

What has frustrated many observers most deeply is not only the violence itself, but the absence of legal closure at the highest level. Special Counsel Jack Smith spent years investigating Mr. Trump’s role in the events leading up to Jan. 6, including efforts to pressure state officials and obstruct the transfer of power. Yet no criminal trial ever took place.

The reasons are well known. The investigation moved slowly under Attorney General Merrick Garland. By the time prosecutors were prepared to proceed, Mr. Trump was once again a declared candidate for president, complicating the path forward. The case stalled, then faded from public view.

Until now.

This week, CBS News correspondent Scott MacFarlane reported that Mr. Smith is expected to testify publicly before the House Judiciary Committee as early as this month. The testimony would mark the first time the special counsel presents his findings in a public congressional setting.

Representative Jamie Raskin of Maryland welcomed the development, noting that Republicans had failed to undermine Mr. Smith’s evidence during hours of closed-door testimony. “This upcoming hearing is a win for truth-seeking Americans,” Mr. Raskin said.

The shift is notable. Many Republicans who once attacked the investigation now appear willing to let it unfold publicly. Whether this reflects a genuine interest in transparency or a strategic effort to distance themselves from a politically vulnerable former president remains unclear.

What is clear is that Mr. Smith’s testimony arrives at a moment when trust in public institutions is under strain. The Trump administration continues to face criticism for misinformation on a wide range of issues, from economic data to foreign policy to law enforcement actions. In that environment, a detailed, evidence-based account of the Jan. 6 investigation could serve as a rare anchor of documented fact.

For Mr. Trump, the optics are less favorable. His political strategy has long relied on dominating the media cycle, shaping narratives visually and emotionally rather than substantively. The administration’s emphasis on made-for-television moments—symbolic gestures, carefully staged appearances—has been unmistakable.

But congressional testimony does not operate on television logic. It unfolds slowly, methodically, anchored in documents and sworn statements. It is not designed for applause lines or spectacle. If Mr. Smith presents his findings in that format, the contrast with Mr. Trump’s rhetoric could be stark.

The Jan. 6 anniversary thus produced an unexpected development—not a prize, not vindication, but renewed scrutiny. For years, accountability seemed deferred, perhaps indefinitely. Now, at minimum, the record may be aired in full view of the public.

Whether that leads to consequences remains uncertain. American history is filled with moments when truth was revealed without immediate justice. But it is also filled with moments when delayed reckoning reshaped public understanding.

Five years after the Capitol attack, the question is no longer what happened. The evidence is overwhelming and well documented. The question is whether the country is finally willing to confront it honestly—and whether its institutions still possess the will to respond.

In the end, the significance of this anniversary may not lie in speeches or pardons, but in testimony. Not performance, but record. Not revision, but remembrance.

For a democracy still grappling with the meaning of Jan. 6, that may be the most consequential development of all.