WH Reporter: I Was Robbed and Pistol-Whipped in DC

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.

Officially, the Metropolitan Police Department says violent crime is down 35 percent from its 2023 peak, and city leaders say we’re near a 30-year low. But lived experience tells a different story.

Last year alone, D.C. reported 29,348 crimes, including:

• 3,469 violent offenses

• 1,026 assaults with a dangerous weapon

• 2,113 robberies

That’s thousands of families like mine, who have endured the trauma and aftermath of violence.

Some experts say not all crimes are even reported. Others point to claims that police leadership under-reported data to make the numbers look better. One thing, however, is hard to manipulate: the homicide rate.

In 2024, D.C.’s homicide rate was 27.3 per 100,000 residents—the fourth-highest in the country, and more than double the rate from just a decade ago.

So far in 2025, there have been more than 100 homicides.

Among the victims:

• Three-year-old Honesty Cheadle, shot while sitting in a car with her family after Fourth of July fireworks.

• 21-year-old Capitol Hill intern Eric Tarpinian-Jachym, killed while walking through Northwest D.C. one evening.

• And just hours after President Trump declared a public safety emergency on August 12, a 33-year-old man was shot and killed in Logan Circle—less than a mile from the White House.

These are not just numbers. Each one is a person. A life cut short. A family changed forever.

As national debate swirls around crime in the capital and whether National Guard troops should patrol its streets, I hope we remember the human cost behind every statistic.

I’m expecting my first child at the end of this year. And we’ve decided we won’t stay in D.C.—not until both the numbers and the stories prove the city has truly changed.

As a new mom, I want my son to grow up in a place where he can walk freely, play safely, and live without fear. I think most parents want the same.

And I hope—someday—we can live that vision here in our nation’s capital: a clean, beautiful, and truly shining city on a hill once again.