An
unseen, personal battle at the State of the Union
By
Lisa Desjardins, CNN
updated 5:58 PM EST, Wed January 29,
2014
Everyone sees the
President, the VIPs, the robes and the brass. But CNN went in search of the
unseen guests, the everyday Americans in the balconies for the State of the
Union speech. Members of Congress can invite one guest each. These are some of
the people they chose. We lead with Matt Cooke. During the 2009 mass shooting at Fort Hood, Cooke
threw himself between attacker Nidal Hasan and a fellow soldier and was shot
five times himself. A shy man who works to prevent military suicides, he
struggles with post-traumatic stress disorder and sat near a House chamber door
during the State of the Union in case of a panic attack. He said he attended
the speech to fight for Fort Hood families and their push that the 2009 attack
be considered a terrorist act.
HIDE CAPTION
Real people go to Washington
Matt
Cooke wore his camouflage combat uniform, surrounded by lawmakers, innovators
and a few celebrities, and he stepped into a room that would hold the world's
greatest concentration of power per square inch for an hour or so.
But
the everyday hero just wanted to get through the State of the Union on Tuesday
night. His seat was next to the door, just in case.
The
much-coveted invitation came because of his heroism on November 5, 2009, when
he stopped by the Soldier Readiness Processing Center at the sprawling Army
base at Fort Hood, Texas.
Moments
after military psychiatrist Nidal Hasan opened fire, Cooke threw himself on top
of another soldier, likely saving that man's life but taking five bullets
himself.
His
wounds still affect him. His eyesight may deteriorate for the rest of his life.
But
as Cooke looked out from the House chamber balcony Tuesday night, the biggest
potential issues were his mind and fears.
"I
don't like being by myself," he said earlier before the event, pausing.
"I don't trust, it's hard for me to trust people now."
Cooke
was honored to be at the Capitol, of course. But logistics dictated that the
shy, blue-eyed veteran had to sit with strangers. (Each member of Congress got
one ticket.) And he didn't like that.
Cooke
needs to be around people he knows. And after he survived the massacre in the
middle of a U.S. Army base, he has a hard time trusting security anywhere.
The
increased measures at the Capitol actually added to those concerns, raising the
idea that this place was especially threatened.
But
the unassuming man came anyway, battling his post-traumatic stress
disorder-instincts out of gratitude to his hometown congressman, Republican
Robert Pittenger of North Carolina, and to push for what he believes is long
overdue recognition for the victims of Fort Hood.
"The
Department of Defense says it was workplace violence," Cooke relayed hours
before the State of the Union, sitting on a window bench tucked into a House
office building stairway. "It was a terrorist act ... to me, it seems
they're trying to cover it up, almost as if it never happened the way it did."
There
are multiple issues here. Under the "workplace violence" designation,
benefits are lower than if the attack were considered terrorism or part of an
active conflict. Victims and families face lower disabled income or death
benefits. Thirteen people were killed at Fort Hood.
Cooke
spoke with determination on this.
"It's
not about the money for me. It has nothing to do with the money," he said.
He
wants the families to be recognized, for victims to be able to receive purple
hearts for their wounds and be afforded all honors appropriate to that at a
military burial.
But
Cooke and his family believe the vast majority of Americans don't know about
their continued battle. And that Congress is happy to move on.
"There
is a bill, H.R. 3111, to declare Fort Hood a terrorist act, but Congress
...," he shakes his head. "September Eleventh at the Pentagon was a
terrorist attack, but this, no."
Hasan
was convicted last August in a military court of murder and attempted murder. A
jury recommended a death sentence. Thirteen people were killed at Fort Hood.
A
U.S.-born citizen of Palestinian descent who was preparing to deploy to
Afghanistan, Hasan admitted to targeting soldiers. He said at one point that he
wanted to protect the Taliban and its leaders from the U.S. military.
Investigations
after the massacre found he had been communicating via e-mail with Anwar
al-Awlaki, an Yemeni-American radical cleric killed by a U.S. drone attack in
2011.
Cooke's
foot taps as he talks about it, but otherwise his bearing was deeply calm.
Almost tired.
His
injuries rewrote his life. A marriage failed. He is no longer allowed to drive.
And he lives with his mom, Diane Frappier, and stepdad, Jerry Frappier. The
couple sometimes can't get the 34-year-old to leave his room.
"Before
(coming to Washington), he spent three days in his bedroom," Diane
Frappier confided. "He was really nervous."
That
bedroom is a safe place, he thinks. The Capitol is not.
To
help, Diane and Jerry made the road trip with their son. They stood next to him
during interviews. Walked beside him down Capitol Hill's hard marble hallways.
For
Diane, the trip is a part of her son's recovery and his mission now.
"I
think it's time for some of his story to come out," said Diane, who is as
feisty and confident as her son is humble and careful.
This
is the first time Matt Cooke has ever heard a State of the Union address.
But
frankly the speech was not his main interest.
He
was at the Capitol to represent people who served the military, suffered at the
hands of a gunman and who now feel overlooked.
When
asked what he hopes for himself, the 13-year veteran gave an answer of
recovery.
"I
don't know. Right now, I'm hoping for today," he said.
And,
it turns out, the day was good.
In
the teeming House chamber, Cooke saw the unexpected -- the face of fellow Fort
Hood survivor Alonzo Lunsford, just a few seats away.
Cooke
knew his friend was in town, but not where he'd be during the speech.
The
room felt better. He made it. He didn't need to run. And he could listen as the
President and Congress honored another surviving soldier -- Sgt. Cory Remsburg.
High
up in the balcony, off camera, Matt Cooke soaked in the wave of cheers.
"It
was a pretty good night," he said.
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