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Yahoo
12-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Defendants in Georgia ‘Cop City' case say they are in limbo as trial delays continue
Single mother Priscilla Grim lost her job. Aspiring writer Julia Dupuis frequently stares at the bedroom ceiling, numb. Geography and environmental studies researcher Hannah Kass is worried about her career prospects after she graduates from her Ph.D. program. The three are among 61 defendants accused by Republican Georgia Attorney General Chris Carr of participating in a yearslong racketeering conspiracy to halt the construction of a police and firefighter training facility just outside Atlanta that critics pejoratively call 'Cop City.' [DOWNLOAD: Free WSB-TV News app for alerts as news breaks] Their cases are at a standstill, 20 months after being indicted under Georgia's Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations law, or RICO, which is likely the largest criminal racketeering case ever filed against protesters in U.S. history, experts say. Trial for five of the defendants was supposed to start last year but got bogged down in procedural issues. The judge overseeing the case then moved to another court. A new judge has set a status hearing for Wednesday. The delays have left people in limbo, facing charges carrying up to 20 years behind bars for what they maintain was legitimate protest, not domestic terrorism. The case also has suppressed a movement that brought together hundreds of activists to protect a wooded patch of land that ultimately was razed for the recently completed $118 million, 85-acre (34-hectare) project. RELATED STORIES: Atlanta Public Safety Training Center officially opens after years of opposition Hundreds gather outside of DeKalb County Jail to protest Atlanta public safety training center Diary of dead Atlanta Public Safety Center protester now core of new legal filings from Georgia AG Activists against new training center say city is blocking people's right to vote on project DeKalb DA withdraws her office from Atlanta Public Safety Training Center cases Activists face off with city leaders over plans for public safety training center More than 60 protesters named in RICO indictment connected to Atlanta public safety training center Officials say the project is sorely needed to replace outdated facilities and boost officers' morale. Opponents say it will be a training ground for a militarized police force and its construction has worsened environmental damage in a poor, majority-Black area. Protests escalated after the fatal 2023 shooting of Manuel Esteban Paez Terán, known as Tortuguita, who was camping near the site when authorities launched a clearing operation. Officials said they killed Tortuguita, 26, after the activist shot and wounded a trooper from inside a tent. A family-commissioned autopsy concluded Tortuguita was killed with their hands in the air, but a prosecutor found the officers' use of force was 'objectively reasonable.' Chris Timmons, a former Georgia prosecutor who has handled numerous RICO cases, said it's understandable such a large case would take a long time to be scheduled. But Timmons said he is surprised prosecutors don't seem to be aggressively pushing for a trial date. 'Cases age like milk, not like wine,' Timmons said. 'The longer we go, memories fade, witnesses become unavailable. If I were in the prosecutors' shoes, I'd want this case tried as soon as possible.' The attorney general's office did not respond to requests for comment. Michael Mears, a professor at Atlanta's John Marshall Law School who studies RICO cases, said prosecutors 'boxed themselves in by charging so many people at one time instead of going after the leadership.' Prosecutors' decision last year to drop money laundering charges against three of the movement's alleged leaders was a sign of the case's weakness. And with the movement having faded from the public consciousness, there is less political appetite for cracking down on the protesters, he said. 'Prosecutors can't just walk away from it, but I think you'll probably see it die a slow death,' Mears said, predicting charges would slowly be dismissed. That is cold comfort for those who say their lives are on hold. 'I think most of our lives are just completely frozen in one way or another,' said Dupuis, 26, who lives in Massachusetts. Dupuis was charged with felony intimidation of an officer in 2023 for distributing anti-police flyers near the home of one of the troopers who killed Tortuguita, Dupuis' friend. The trooper called authorities after learning the flyers, which called him a 'murderer,' were placed on his neighbors' mailboxes. Now banned from Georgia, Dupuis struggles to find the motivation to complete freelance copywriting projects that pay for their $650 rent. 'There's a lot I want to do, a lot of hopes and dreams that I feel like are just kind of stuck,' said Dupuis, who dreams of joining New York City's creative writing scene. But most of all, Dupuis misses the activist community that once thrived in the South River Forest. 'The charges have ripped me away from my community and the people that I love so much. That's what I've been longing for every single day: to be back with my people,' Dupuis said. Grim, 51, is tired of waiting and recently filed for a speedy trial. It's unclear whether her motion will be granted, since the speedy trial deadline passed long ago. 'Let's get this over with,' Grim said. 'If you think you have something on me, let's do it — which you don't.' Grim, who lives in New York City, is one of many 'Stop Cop City' defendants who post on social media for financial support to help pay for food and rent. Health insurance is out of the question, despite chronic pain in her knee from a prior accident. Besides the couple hundred dollars she gets each month from donors she doesn't know, Grim cobbles together funds through freelance work for activist-oriented causes and is focused on helping her daughter get through college. 'I've never had such a hard time finding employment,' said Grim, who previously held marketing jobs. 'I do really well until the final interview and then everybody goes ghost on me. I think it's because that's when they look my name up.' Prosecutors say Grim was among a throng of black-clad activists in March 2023 who left a music festival, walked through the woods and overtook the construction site, torching equipment and throwing rocks at retreating officers before returning to blend in with festivalgoers. Grim said she was in her tent, having woken up from a nap, when officers arrived at the festival and began making arrests. Grim said she began to run before falling due to her knee injury. 'I heard men screaming at me,' Grim said, describing what prompted her to run. 'That's scary as a woman. They didn't say they were police or anything.' Authorities, however, said Grim ran upon spotting the officers and tried to hide. After her arrest, Grim lost an email marketing contract with Fordham University, which had been about to give her a full-time position. 'People know me, and when they hear I'm a 'domestic terrorist' they're like, 'What? No! What?!' Grim said. 'I'm not just talking about activist friends saying this — these are friends from parent circles.' On May 12, 2022, a group of protesters gathered in suburban Atlanta outside the offices of Brasfield & Gorrie, the training center's primary contractor. Some set off fireworks as others broke windows and spray-painted 'Trees not cops,' causing an estimated $30,000 in damage, authorities said. Kass, 32, attended the protest but said she never vandalized anything and was engaging in a research method called 'participant observation,' which involves immersing oneself in the community being studied. 'I was there as both a scholar and an activist,' said Kass, a Ph.D. candidate at the University of Wisconsin-Madison who studies land struggles and teaches environmental social sciences to undergraduates. Authorities arrested her on charges of felony criminal property damage and felony terroristic threats, saying surveillance video shows she helped set off Roman candles. Kass underwent a university disciplinary hearing but said the school has supported her. She worries potential employers might not be as understanding. Like many of her codefendants, Kass rejected prosecutors' plea deal at her RICO arraignment that would have included serving three years in prison. 'I have absolutely nothing to plead guilty for,' she said. 'I should have every right to protest and believe what I want to believe and associate with whatever political tendencies I wish to associate with.' [SIGN UP: WSB-TV Daily Headlines Newsletter]
12-05-2025
- Politics
Defendants in Georgia 'Cop City' case say they are in limbo as trial delays continue
ATLANTA -- Single mother Priscilla Grim lost her job. Aspiring writer Julia Dupuis frequently stares at the bedroom ceiling, numb. Geography and environmental studies researcher Hannah Kass is worried about her career prospects after she graduates from her Ph.D. program. The three are among 61 defendants accused by Republican Georgia Attorney General Chris Carr of participating in a yearslong racketeering conspiracy to halt the construction of a police and firefighter training facility just outside Atlanta that critics pejoratively call 'Cop City.' Their cases are at a standstill, 20 months after being indicted under Georgia's Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations law, or RICO, which is likely the largest criminal racketeering case ever filed against protesters in U.S. history, experts say. Trial for five of the defendants was supposed to start last year but got bogged down in procedural issues. The judge overseeing the case then moved to another court. A new judge has set a status hearing for Wednesday. The delays have left people in limbo, facing charges carrying up to 20 years behind bars for what they maintain was legitimate protest, not domestic terrorism. The case also has suppressed a movement that brought together hundreds of activists to protect a wooded patch of land that ultimately was razed for the recently completed $118 million, 85-acre (34-hectare) project. Officials say the project is sorely needed to replace outdated facilities and boost officers' morale. Opponents say it will be a training ground for a militarized police force and its construction has worsened environmental damage in a poor, majority-Black area. Protests escalated after the fatal 2023 shooting of Manuel Esteban Paez Terán, known as Tortuguita, who was camping near the site when authorities launched a clearing operation. Officials said they killed Tortuguita, 26, after the activist shot and wounded a trooper from inside a tent. A family-commissioned autopsy concluded Tortuguita was killed with their hands in the air, but a prosecutor found the officers' use of force was ' objectively reasonable.' Chris Timmons, a former Georgia prosecutor who has handled numerous RICO cases, said it's understandable such a large case would take a long time to be scheduled. But Timmons said he is surprised prosecutors don't seem to be aggressively pushing for a trial date. 'Cases age like milk, not like wine,' Timmons said. 'The longer we go, memories fade, witnesses become unavailable. If I were in the prosecutors' shoes, I'd want this case tried as soon as possible.' The attorney general's office did not respond to requests for comment. Michael Mears, a professor at Atlanta's John Marshall Law School who studies RICO cases, said prosecutors 'boxed themselves in by charging so many people at one time instead of going after the leadership.' Prosecutors' decision last year to drop money laundering charges against three of the movement's alleged leaders was a sign of the case's weakness. And with the movement having faded from the public consciousness, there is less political appetite for cracking down on the protesters, he said. 'Prosecutors can't just walk away from it, but I think you'll probably see it die a slow death,' Mears said, predicting charges would slowly be dismissed. That is cold comfort for those who say their lives are on hold. 'I think most of our lives are just completely frozen in one way or another,' said Dupuis, 26, who lives in Massachusetts. Dupuis was charged with felony intimidation of an officer in 2023 for distributing anti-police flyers near the home of one of the troopers who killed Tortuguita, Dupuis' friend. The trooper called authorities after learning the flyers, which called him a 'murderer,' were placed on his neighbors' mailboxes. Now banned from Georgia, Dupuis struggles to find the motivation to complete freelance copywriting projects that pay for their $650 rent. 'There's a lot I want to do, a lot of hopes and dreams that I feel like are just kind of stuck,' said Dupuis, who dreams of joining New York City's creative writing scene. But most of all, Dupuis misses the activist community that once thrived in the South River Forest. 'The charges have ripped me away from my community and the people that I love so much. That's what I've been longing for every single day: to be back with my people," Dupuis said. Grim, 51, is tired of waiting and recently filed for a speedy trial. It's unclear whether her motion will be granted, since the speedy trial deadline passed long ago. 'Let's get this over with," Grim said. "If you think you have something on me, let's do it — which you don't.' Grim, who lives in New York City, is one of many 'Stop Cop City' defendants who post on social media for financial support to help pay for food and rent. Health insurance is out of the question, despite chronic pain in her knee from a prior accident. Besides the couple hundred dollars she gets each month from donors she doesn't know, Grim cobbles together funds through freelance work for activist-oriented causes and is focused on helping her daughter get through college. 'I've never had such a hard time finding employment,' said Grim, who previously held marketing jobs. 'I do really well until the final interview and then everybody goes ghost on me. I think it's because that's when they look my name up.' Prosecutors say Grim was among a throng of black-clad activists in March 2023 who left a music festival, walked through the woods and overtook the construction site, torching equipment and throwing rocks at retreating officers before returning to blend in with festivalgoers. Grim said she was in her tent, having woken up from a nap, when officers arrived at the festival and began making arrests. Grim said she began to run before falling due to her knee injury. 'I heard men screaming at me," Grim said, describing what prompted her to run. "That's scary as a woman. They didn't say they were police or anything.' Authorities, however, said Grim ran upon spotting the officers and tried to hide. After her arrest, Grim lost an email marketing contract with Fordham University, which had been about to give her a full-time position. 'People know me, and when they hear I'm a 'domestic terrorist' they're like, 'What? No! What?!' Grim said. 'I'm not just talking about activist friends saying this — these are friends from parent circles.' On May 12, 2022, a group of protesters gathered in suburban Atlanta outside the offices of Brasfield & Gorrie, the training center's primary contractor. Some set off fireworks as others broke windows and spray-painted 'Trees not cops,' causing an estimated $30,000 in damage, authorities said. Kass, 32, attended the protest but said she never vandalized anything and was engaging in a research method called 'participant observation,' which involves immersing oneself in the community being studied. 'I was there as both a scholar and an activist,' said Kass, a Ph.D. candidate at the University of Wisconsin-Madison who studies land struggles and teaches environmental social sciences to undergraduates. Authorities arrested her on charges of felony criminal property damage and felony terroristic threats, saying surveillance video shows she helped set off Roman candles. Kass underwent a university disciplinary hearing but said the school has supported her. She worries potential employers might not be as understanding. Like many of her codefendants, Kass rejected prosecutors' plea deal at her RICO arraignment that would have included serving three years in prison. 'I have absolutely nothing to plead guilty for," she said. "I should have every right to protest and believe what I want to believe and associate with whatever political tendencies I wish to associate with.'
Winnipeg Free Press
12-05-2025
- Politics
- Winnipeg Free Press
Defendants in Georgia ‘Cop City' case say they are in limbo as trial delays continue
ATLANTA (AP) — Single mother Priscilla Grim lost her job. Aspiring writer Julia Dupuis frequently stares at the bedroom ceiling, numb. Geography and environmental studies researcher Hannah Kass is worried about her career prospects after she graduates from her Ph.D. program. The three are among 61 defendants accused by Republican Georgia Attorney General Chris Carr of participating in a yearslong racketeering conspiracy to halt the construction of a police and firefighter training facility just outside Atlanta that critics pejoratively call 'Cop City.' Their cases are at a standstill, 20 months after being indicted under Georgia's Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations law, or RICO, which is likely the largest criminal racketeering case ever filed against protesters in U.S. history, experts say. Trial for five of the defendants was supposed to start last year but got bogged down in procedural issues. The judge overseeing the case then moved to another court. A new judge has set a status hearing for Wednesday. The delays have left people in limbo, facing charges carrying up to 20 years behind bars for what they maintain was legitimate protest, not domestic terrorism. The case also has suppressed a movement that brought together hundreds of activists to protect a wooded patch of land that ultimately was razed for the recently completed $118 million, 85-acre (34-hectare) project. Officials say the project is sorely needed to replace outdated facilities and boost officers' morale. Opponents say it will be a training ground for a militarized police force and its construction has worsened environmental damage in a poor, majority-Black area. Protests escalated after the fatal 2023 shooting of Manuel Esteban Paez Terán, known as Tortuguita, who was camping near the site when authorities launched a clearing operation. Officials said they killed Tortuguita, 26, after the activist shot and wounded a trooper from inside a tent. A family-commissioned autopsy concluded Tortuguita was killed with their hands in the air, but a prosecutor found the officers' use of force was ' objectively reasonable.' The challenges of a 61-person indictment Chris Timmons, a former Georgia prosecutor who has handled numerous RICO cases, said it's understandable such a large case would take a long time to be scheduled. But Timmons said he is surprised prosecutors don't seem to be aggressively pushing for a trial date. 'Cases age like milk, not like wine,' Timmons said. 'The longer we go, memories fade, witnesses become unavailable. If I were in the prosecutors' shoes, I'd want this case tried as soon as possible.' The attorney general's office did not respond to requests for comment. Michael Mears, a professor at Atlanta's John Marshall Law School who studies RICO cases, said prosecutors 'boxed themselves in by charging so many people at one time instead of going after the leadership.' Prosecutors' decision last year to drop money laundering charges against three of the movement's alleged leaders was a sign of the case's weakness. And with the movement having faded from the public consciousness, there is less political appetite for cracking down on the protesters, he said. 'Prosecutors can't just walk away from it, but I think you'll probably see it die a slow death,' Mears said, predicting charges would slowly be dismissed. That is cold comfort for those who say their lives are on hold. Julia Dupuis 'I think most of our lives are just completely frozen in one way or another,' said Dupuis, 26, who lives in Massachusetts. Dupuis was charged with felony intimidation of an officer in 2023 for distributing anti-police flyers near the home of one of the troopers who killed Tortuguita, Dupuis' friend. The trooper called authorities after learning the flyers, which called him a 'murderer,' were placed on his neighbors' mailboxes. Now banned from Georgia, Dupuis struggles to find the motivation to complete freelance copywriting projects that pay for their $650 rent. 'There's a lot I want to do, a lot of hopes and dreams that I feel like are just kind of stuck,' said Dupuis, who dreams of joining New York City's creative writing scene. But most of all, Dupuis misses the activist community that once thrived in the South River Forest. 'The charges have ripped me away from my community and the people that I love so much. That's what I've been longing for every single day: to be back with my people,' Dupuis said. Priscilla Grim Grim, 51, is tired of waiting and recently filed for a speedy trial. It's unclear whether her motion will be granted, since the speedy trial deadline passed long ago. 'Let's get this over with,' Grim said. 'If you think you have something on me, let's do it — which you don't.' Grim, who lives in New York City, is one of many 'Stop Cop City' defendants who post on social media for financial support to help pay for food and rent. Health insurance is out of the question, despite chronic pain in her knee from a prior accident. Besides the couple hundred dollars she gets each month from donors she doesn't know, Grim cobbles together funds through freelance work for activist-oriented causes and is focused on helping her daughter get through college. 'I've never had such a hard time finding employment,' said Grim, who previously held marketing jobs. 'I do really well until the final interview and then everybody goes ghost on me. I think it's because that's when they look my name up.' Prosecutors say Grim was among a throng of black-clad activists in March 2023 who left a music festival, walked through the woods and overtook the construction site, torching equipment and throwing rocks at retreating officers before returning to blend in with festivalgoers. Grim said she was in her tent, having woken up from a nap, when officers arrived at the festival and began making arrests. Grim said she began to run before falling due to her knee injury. 'I heard men screaming at me,' Grim said, describing what prompted her to run. 'That's scary as a woman. They didn't say they were police or anything.' Authorities, however, said Grim ran upon spotting the officers and tried to hide. After her arrest, Grim lost an email marketing contract with Fordham University, which had been about to give her a full-time position. 'People know me, and when they hear I'm a 'domestic terrorist' they're like, 'What? No! What?!' Grim said. 'I'm not just talking about activist friends saying this — these are friends from parent circles.' Hannah Kass On May 12, 2022, a group of protesters gathered in suburban Atlanta outside the offices of Brasfield & Gorrie, the training center's primary contractor. Some set off fireworks as others broke windows and spray-painted 'Trees not cops,' causing an estimated $30,000 in damage, authorities said. Kass, 32, attended the protest but said she never vandalized anything and was engaging in a research method called 'participant observation,' which involves immersing oneself in the community being studied. Winnipeg Jets Game Days On Winnipeg Jets game days, hockey writers Mike McIntyre and Ken Wiebe send news, notes and quotes from the morning skate, as well as injury updates and lineup decisions. Arrives a few hours prior to puck drop. 'I was there as both a scholar and an activist,' said Kass, a Ph.D. candidate at the University of Wisconsin-Madison who studies land struggles and teaches environmental social sciences to undergraduates. Authorities arrested her on charges of felony criminal property damage and felony terroristic threats, saying surveillance video shows she helped set off Roman candles. Kass underwent a university disciplinary hearing but said the school has supported her. She worries potential employers might not be as understanding. Like many of her codefendants, Kass rejected prosecutors' plea deal at her RICO arraignment that would have included serving three years in prison. 'I have absolutely nothing to plead guilty for,' she said. 'I should have every right to protest and believe what I want to believe and associate with whatever political tendencies I wish to associate with.'
Yahoo
11-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
‘Cop City' legal case could cast spotlight on US police foundations' activities
A legal case in Atlanta stemming from the controversial 'Cop City' project is being closely watched because it has the potential to cast a spotlight on the activities of police foundations nationwide. The case raises the issue of state open records laws, and whether they apply to police foundations. The private foundations exist in every major US city, with more than 250 nationwide, according to a 2021 report by research and activist groups Little Sis and Color of Change. The foundations have been used to pay for surveillance technologies in cities like Baltimore and Los Angeles without the contracts being subject to public scrutiny, according to the report. In the Atlanta case, a judge is considering 12 hours of testimony, related case law and evidence in a lawsuit that concerns whether records such as board meeting minutes from the Atlanta Police Foundation (APF) are subject to the state's open records law. If they are, they must be released to plaintiffs – a local digital non-profit news outlet and a Chicago-based research organization. Although it is a private entity, the police foundation is the driving force behind the controversial police training center colloquially known as 'Cop City' and which has attracted global headlines after police shot dead Manuel Paez Terán, or 'Tortuguita', an environmental activist protesting the project. At the same time, the prosecution of anti-'Cop City' activists – especially using Rico laws usually reserved for organized crime – has prompted accusations that the state is using police and the courts to crush dissent and free speech. The open records complaint, filed last year on behalf of non-profit news outlet Atlanta Community Press Collective (ACPC) and digital transparency research organization Lucy Parsons Labs, details how numerous records queries to the foundation under Georgia's Open Records Act were ignored. After a two-day bench trial last week, Fulton county superior court judge Jane Barwick must now decide whether to order the foundation to release those records, including a 'line-item construction budget' and contracts. It was probably the first such lawsuit nationwide, University of Chicago sociology professor Robert Vargas told the Guardian last year – and is being followed closely by researchers and activists alike. One of the hallmarks of police foundations is how difficult it is to get information out of them,' said Gin Armstrong, executive director at LittleSis and the Public Accountability Initiative. 'From a research point of view, this case could open up possibilities … in understanding where money is coming from for policing.' 'A ruling here that the Atlanta police foundation is subject to meaningful public oversight [by releasing the records] would send a very important signal,' said Jonathan Manes, senior counsel at the MacArthur Justice Center. One reason, he said, was the high profile of the $109m training center project. Built on a 171-acre (70-hectare) footprint in a forest south-east of Atlanta, opposition to the center has come from a wide range of local and national organizations and protesters and is centered on concerns such as unchecked police militarization and clearing forests in an era of climate crisis. Atlanta police, and the foundation, say the center is needed for 'world-class' training and to attract new officers. The movement against the center dates to 2021 and has included the destruction of construction equipment and the arson of Atlanta police motorcycles and a car. It has also included efforts to mount a referendum on the training center that gathered signatures from more than 100,000 voters – and continues to languish in court – as well as historic levels of public participation in city council meetings, lawsuits, numerous protests, and support from national environmental and civil rights groups. Despite the years of protests and worldwide media coverage – and although the APF built the center, with corporate and taxpayer funds – the foundation and its CEO, former Secret Service leader Dave Wilkinson, have largely escaped public notice. Most attention has centered on Atlanta's police department, which will be using the center, and local and state governments. Because of this, the lawsuit, and last week's bench trial – meaning the judge decides, not a jury – draw attention to the APF. The APF is one of the nation's largest and most well-funded police foundations, with support from companies like Delta, Wells Fargo and Home Depot. Wilkinson is also the highest-paid among police foundation CEOs nationwide, with a 2022 salary of $500,000. In his hours of testimony last week, Wilkinson revealed his take on ACPC, which began reporting on the training center in late 2021, filling a vacuum left in local media exemplified by the Atlanta Journal-Constitution failing to disclose in much of its news and opinion coverage of the project that Alex Taylor, CEO of the paper's owner, Cox Enterprises, had led a multimillion-dollar fundraising drive for the foundation. Wilkinson testified that he thought ACPC would be 'giving information to … anarchists' – referring to protestors who committed acts of property destruction or vandalism – and that, in withholding information, he was 'trying to protect people from harm'. He and others – including Alan Williams, project manager for the training center – offered hours of detailed descriptions of protests, including cellphone videos and news clips showing protestors throwing rocks, lighting fireworks and screaming such chants as 'Fuck you Alan!' Matt Scott, executive director of ACPC, said: 'They were doing the best they could to make ACPC look like an organization intent on causing harm – but they brought no evidence against ACPC.' Manes found the APF's stance 'deeply chilling – the idea that the press is responsible for how people use or react to information'. In her closing argument, Joy Ramsingh – one of three attorneys who represented plaintiffs pro bono, along with Samantha C Hamilton and Luke Andrews – said that Wilkinson 'clearly believes that if … he feels [open records requestors] are bad people, then they should be denied Open Records Act requests. But [the law] is not governed by our feelings.' The police foundation and its lawyer, former Georgia supreme court chief justice Harold Melton, also argued that the foundation was no different from other private entities that work with government, whether corporations such as Chick-fil-A or other non-profit organizations – and so, like these entities, it should not be subject to open records laws. Melton declined to comment on the case. The APF did not respond to a query from the Guardian. Ramsingh countered this notion rhetorically in court: 'Is there any Chick-fil-A that calls itself Atlanta police Chick-fil-A and only serves chicken nuggets to APD?' Ed Vogel, a researcher at Lucy Parsons Labs, said: 'If APD didn't exist, APF wouldn't exist – it gives the ability to wealthy people and corporations to organize and mobilize funds in a way that supports their interests, without any public oversight.' Ramsingh said she hopes the case 'helps shine a light on what police foundations do, and illuminates their reach'. In Atlanta, that includes not just raising money for the training center, but building and managing it. 'Most people have no idea there's this whole other entity making decisions on public safety.'
The Guardian
11-04-2025
- Politics
- The Guardian
‘Cop City' legal case could cast spotlight on US police foundations' activities
A legal case in Atlanta stemming from the controversial 'Cop City' project is being closely watched because it has the potential to cast a spotlight on the activities of police foundations nationwide. The case raises the issue of state open records laws, and whether they apply to police foundations. The private foundations exist in every major US city, with more than 250 nationwide, according to a 2021 report by research and activist groups Little Sis and Color of Change. The foundations have been used to pay for surveillance technologies in cities like Baltimore and Los Angeles without the contracts being subject to public scrutiny, according to the report. In the Atlanta case, a judge is considering 12 hours of testimony, related case law and evidence in a lawsuit that concerns whether records such as board meeting minutes from the Atlanta Police Foundation (APF) are subject to the state's open records law. If they are, they must be released to plaintiffs – a local digital non-profit news outlet and a Chicago-based research organization. Although it is a private entity, the police foundation is the driving force behind the controversial police training center colloquially known as 'Cop City' and which has attracted global headlines after police shot dead Manuel Paez Terán, or 'Tortuguita', an environmental activist protesting the project. At the same time, the prosecution of anti-'Cop City' activists – especially using Rico laws usually reserved for organized crime – has prompted accusations that the state is using police and the courts to crush dissent and free speech. The open records complaint, filed last year on behalf of non-profit news outlet Atlanta Community Press Collective (ACPC) and digital transparency research organization Lucy Parsons Labs, details how numerous records queries to the foundation under Georgia's Open Records Act were ignored. After a two-day bench trial last week, Fulton county superior court judge Jane Barwick must now decide whether to order the foundation to release those records, including a 'line-item construction budget' and contracts. It was probably the first such lawsuit nationwide, University of Chicago sociology professor Robert Vargas told the Guardian last year – and is being followed closely by researchers and activists alike. One of the hallmarks of police foundations is how difficult it is to get information out of them,' said Gin Armstrong, executive director at LittleSis and the Public Accountability Initiative. 'From a research point of view, this case could open up possibilities … in understanding where money is coming from for policing.' 'A ruling here that the Atlanta police foundation is subject to meaningful public oversight [by releasing the records] would send a very important signal,' said Jonathan Manes, senior counsel at the MacArthur Justice Center. One reason, he said, was the high profile of the $109m training center project. Built on a 171-acre (70-hectare) footprint in a forest south-east of Atlanta, opposition to the center has come from a wide range of local and national organizations and protesters and is centered on concerns such as unchecked police militarization and clearing forests in an era of climate crisis. Atlanta police, and the foundation, say the center is needed for 'world-class' training and to attract new officers. The movement against the center dates to 2021 and has included the destruction of construction equipment and the arson of Atlanta police motorcycles and a car. It has also included efforts to mount a referendum on the training center that gathered signatures from more than 100,000 voters – and continues to languish in court – as well as historic levels of public participation in city council meetings, lawsuits, numerous protests, and support from national environmental and civil rights groups. Despite the years of protests and worldwide media coverage – and although the APF built the center, with corporate and taxpayer funds – the foundation and its CEO, former Secret Service leader Dave Wilkinson, have largely escaped public notice. Most attention has centered on Atlanta's police department, which will be using the center, and local and state governments. Because of this, the lawsuit, and last week's bench trial – meaning the judge decides, not a jury – draw attention to the APF. The APF is one of the nation's largest and most well-funded police foundations, with support from companies like Delta, Wells Fargo and Home Depot. Wilkinson is also the highest-paid among police foundation CEOs nationwide, with a 2022 salary of $500,000. In his hours of testimony last week, Wilkinson revealed his take on ACPC, which began reporting on the training center in late 2021, filling a vacuum left in local media exemplified by the Atlanta Journal-Constitution failing to disclose in much of its news and opinion coverage of the project that Alex Taylor, CEO of the paper's owner, Cox Enterprises, had led a multimillion-dollar fundraising drive for the foundation. Sign up to Headlines US Get the most important US headlines and highlights emailed direct to you every morning after newsletter promotion Wilkinson testified that he thought ACPC would be 'giving information to … anarchists' – referring to protestors who committed acts of property destruction or vandalism – and that, in withholding information, he was 'trying to protect people from harm'. He and others – including Alan Williams, project manager for the training center – offered hours of detailed descriptions of protests, including cellphone videos and news clips showing protestors throwing rocks, lighting fireworks and screaming such chants as 'Fuck you Alan!' Matt Scott, executive director of ACPC, said: 'They were doing the best they could to make ACPC look like an organization intent on causing harm – but they brought no evidence against ACPC.' Manes found the APF's stance 'deeply chilling – the idea that the press is responsible for how people use or react to information'. In her closing argument, Joy Ramsingh – one of three attorneys who represented plaintiffs pro bono, along with Samantha C Hamilton and Luke Andrews – said that Wilkinson 'clearly believes that if … he feels [open records requestors] are bad people, then they should be denied Open Records Act requests. But [the law] is not governed by our feelings.' The police foundation and its lawyer, former Georgia supreme court chief justice Harold Melton, also argued that the foundation was no different from other private entities that work with government, whether corporations such as Chick-fil-A or other non-profit organizations – and so, like these entities, it should not be subject to open records laws. Melton declined to comment on the case. The APF did not respond to a query from the Guardian. Ramsingh countered this notion rhetorically in court: 'Is there any Chick-fil-A that calls itself Atlanta police Chick-fil-A and only serves chicken nuggets to APD?' Ed Vogel, a researcher at Lucy Parsons Labs, said: 'If APD didn't exist, APF wouldn't exist – it gives the ability to wealthy people and corporations to organize and mobilize funds in a way that supports their interests, without any public oversight.' Ramsingh said she hopes the case 'helps shine a light on what police foundations do, and illuminates their reach'. In Atlanta, that includes not just raising money for the training center, but building and managing it. 'Most people have no idea there's this whole other entity making decisions on public safety.'
