Commentary
The latest move by the White House to crack down on crime in Washington prompted me to reflect on a harrowing moment from my own life—the morning I was robbed at gunpoint just steps from my apartment.
It was 8:30 a.m. on a Saturday in January 2022. I had just left my building near The Wharf in Southwest D.C. when a man in a black ski mask appeared out of nowhere, pointed a gun at my face, and demanded my phone.
“Give me your phone,” he barked as he snatched it from my jacket pocket.
Then, with cold precision, he ordered me to hand over my wallet, laptop, and phone password.
Before fear even set in, instinct kicked in—not to protect my belongings, but to protect the sensitive information I carried. As a White House reporter for NTD Television, the sister outlet of The Epoch Times, I felt an overwhelming duty to safeguard my sources, colleagues, and loved ones.
“I can’t,” I said. “Don’t do this.”
He struck me across the face with the butt of his handgun.
My cheek went numb and flushed red.
“Help! Help!” I screamed as he ran off. A neighbor called the police. Later, an officer told me the assailant had fled into an apartment just a block away. They believed they knew who he was—but I never heard from them again.
I stayed surprisingly composed during the attack, but once I got back inside, the fear set in. He could have shot me. I could have died—just as my career was beginning. My parents and now-husband were hundreds of miles away.
I grew up in New York City and considered myself street-smart. Crime statistics had always been just numbers. I walked the streets of Queens and Manhattan alone, day or night. That Saturday morning shattered that confidence.
It’s been more than two years. Since then, I’ve never walked the streets of D.C. alone at night. I Uber home every day—even though my office is within walking distance. I’m on high alert after dark, whether I’m working or just meeting friends. Fear lives around every corner.
I didn’t tell my grandparents what happened until a year later—I was afraid it would devastate them and convince them I should leave D.C. entirely. Truthfully, I still love this city. But the scar of that morning lingers.
So when friends ask, “Is D.C. safe?” I don’t just share the stats. I share what happened to me.
By Iris Tao
