Phil Mandelbaum || On June 28, 2025, locals from Dallas-Fort Worth met for a potluck dinner at a community garden, a garden that allows residents to partake in the seasonal harvests no matter how they’re able to contribute. Around a bonfire, participants lamented about the No Kings Day marches held two weeks prior; the event in Dallas-Fort Worth (DFW) “felt more like a block party,” and the area’s activists wanted to “actually do something that would make a difference.”
With July 4 on the horizon, an organically grown collective agreed on a noise demonstration outside the nearby Prairieland ICE detention center in Alvarado, Texas. This demonstration, attended by less than a dozen people from mostly intersecting activist groups, quickly devolved from a free-spirited fireworks display to a violent interaction with Alvarado police.
Most of the protesters were taken into custody that night, at or near the site of the demonstration; others, including family members and friends, were arrested in the following days. Immediately labeled an “Antifa cell,” 19 defendants then faced federal prosecution for terrorism, for behaviors like wearing black, owning zines, and carpooling through Signal chats and a Discord server. And on March 13, 2026, nine defendants — ‘the Prairieland 9’ — were convicted by a Texas jury of “providing support to terrorists” in an unprecedented case of what the National Lawyers Guild called “unchecked state repression.”
In the government’s official statement on the guilty verdict, Attorney General Pam Bondi is quoted as saying, “Antifa is a domestic terrorist organization,” and “today’s verdict on terrorism charges will not be the last as the Trump’s administration systematically dismantles Antifa and finally halts their violence on America’s streets.”
Investigative journalist and author Will Potter has spent decades documenting how the government prosecutes activists as terrorists. “Whether it’s environmentalists, animal rights activists, Cop City protesters or now, antifascists, the playbook is identical,” he told us. “Find a conspiracy, stretch it as far as it will go, and try to scare the rest of the movement into submission.”
What’s different about the Prairieland case, though? “The scale.”
According to Potter, national security presidential memorandum NSPM-7, Countering Domestic Terrorism and Organized Political Violence, “made clear the administration isn’t just targeting a movement, it’s targeting anyone who resists fascism — they’re going after the funders, the publishers, the organizations. They’re not building a case against ‘Antifa,’ they’re building a case against dissent itself.”
The autonomous collective Crimethinc concurred, providing a global perspective on the trial, as well as the treatment of those convicted and caged:
Looking at similar cases such as the ‘Network’ case in Russia, we can see the model that far-right elements of the US government aim to import to the US. The playbook is to fabricate an association, then pressure defendants to plead guilty. In Russia, they did this with cattle prods; in the Prairieland case, they are seeking to accomplish the same thing via solitary confinement and other less direct means of torture.
We spoke with Elisabet from the DFW Support Committee, who detailed for Counterpunch everything leading up to the guilty verdict cited by Donald Trump as a victory in the fight against Antifa, and the defendants’ attorneys’ March 30 filing for a new trial and judgments of acquittal.
The Wikipedia page on this case relies on reports from police; this article tells the other side of the story, supplemented by exclusive expert insights on what the case represents for democracy today.
The July 4 Noise Demonstration
Although the official police record on the Prairieland 9 focuses on “several dressed in black ‘military-style’ or black bloc clothing with their faces covered,” the 11 attendees of the noise demonstration primarily wore blue jeans and tanktops, according to Elisabet. The title of the Signal group created by the loose network to organize the gathering was “4th of July Party!”
“Let’s look at who these people actually are,” said Brittany Friedman, author of Carceral Apartheid.
Trans women being held in men’s prisons, people who helped out at a community garden, and a woman who became vegan at twelve years old and lobbied as a teenager to protect animals from cruelty. Her family says she has never hit anyone, that she won’t even say a curse word. Yet the government introduced her first-aid kit as evidence of material support for terrorism. She is now a convicted terrorist facing decades in federal prison.
Putting into question how they’ve been characterized, the protesters even researched the property’s boundaries to ensure they wouldn’t be trespassing.
The demo itself lasted 30 minutes, Elisabet said. Up to an hour, at most. And it worked: they got the attention of those locked inside. The ‘prisoners’ gathered by the windows to return the show of solidarity; this is also what tipped off the security guards.
The guards exited the building and asked the demonstrators to leave; all but two of the 11 did. Unbeknownst to the remaining protesters, one of the three who stayed behind, Nathan Baumann, used spraypaint to vandalize ICE vehicles and the detention center’s guard shed, tagging “ICE pig” and “fuck you pigs” as indoor security looked on.
Security called the police, and an officer from Alvarado responded. According to Elisabet, Lieutenant Thomas Gross exited the vehicle, and within six seconds pulled his firearm on Baumann, who at this point had their backs turned and were running away.
The third straggler, Benjamin “Champagne” Song, is a former Marine, an active member of the Socialist Rifle Association and a firearms instructor, who had previously brought their rifle to other Texas protests “to protect the peace.” When they saw the officer point his weapon, they fired a warning shot into the ground in hopes it would allow the others to escape.
This resulted in an exchange of fire between Gross and Song; according to Elisabet, Song never fired directly at the officer, but one of Gross’s bullets hit Song’s rifle, causing it to jam.
Police say one of Song’s bullets hit Gross, but as Elisabet explained, the mangling of the bullet suggests he was hit by a ricochet, and not a direct shot. There’s even police body camera footage, Elisbet said, of a second officer telling Gross he was only grazed.
“Nathan Baumann was incredibly fortunate Champagne was there, because there’s no doubt that Lieutenant Gross would have murdered him in cold blood.”
Arrests and Jail Time
The night of the noise demonstration, Baumann was arrested on the grounds outside the ICE facility; Song was able to evade arrest that evening, but would be picked up in the coming days.
Meanwhile, the eight who immediately complied with police orders were standing by or walking back to their cars when other Alvarado officers approached them — and, according to Elisbet, violated their Civil Rights.
“All of the defendants who were stopped on the road repeatedly said, on camera, ‘I do not consent to a search,’ and the cops still took their backpacks and emptied them out onto the ground,” Elisabet said. “It was raining, and one of them asked if they could sit on the curb instead of the wet grass, and an officer said, ‘I will pop you, don’t mess with me.’ Another person was sitting, waiting in their car. They never attended the protest, they just gave rides, but they were arrested too.”
The surveillance of the family members of those arrested began within 24 hours, Elisabet said. “And it didn’t take long before doors started getting bashed in and people’s homes started getting searched.”
Daniel “Des Revol” Rolando Sanchez Estrada, the partner of Prairieland protester Maricela Rueda, was one of those targeted and arrested by law enforcement following the noise demonstration.
According to Elisabet, Estrada was surveilled by the FBI transporting a box of his belongings to a friend’s house in nearby Denton, Texas. Although the box contained letters from his students, a small collection of political zines, and other personal belongings, the FBI, she said, had determined the box also stored an improvised explosive device.
Nevertheless, Elisabet said, the authorities didn’t call in the team that identifies and neutralizes IEDs, they left the box on the porch, unsupervised. Instead, the FBI contacted Denton police, and the police pulled Estrada over for making a wide right turn. Estrada would then be charged with impeding a federal investigation, though during the trial the prosecution’s focus would be on the contents of the box; specifically, the titles — but not the content — of the zines.
With a bail set in the millions, Estrada and the other defendants would spend the next 90 days in jail, awaiting their indictments and trying to build a defense. According to Elisabet, “the conditions were horrific.” The defendants were all held in solitary cells, and restricted from communicating with their attorneys. The women were strip-searched multiple times per day, often on video. And jail officials refused to administer necessary medications or provide food that adhered to defendants’ dietary restrictions. As a result, a number of the defendants grew increasingly unwell and consumed only bread and water for months.
The guards were “especially tough” on Rueda, Elisabet said, “throwing her in the actual shoe, a cell covered floor to ceiling in feces,” and “making her scrub it with a brush, all by herself.”
At the same time, other defendants were making deals with law enforcement to protect themselves from prosecution.
Cooperating with the Law
On November 19, 2025, five of the original Prairieland defendants entered a guilty plea to one count of providing material support for terrorism; this resulted from their agreement to provide ‘evidence’ to assist in the prosecution. The testimonies of Lynette Sharp, Seth Sikes, John “Juniper” Thomas, Joy Gibson and Nathan Baumann — who initiated the unplanned vandalism on the ICE vehicles — would be used against the remaining defendants during their trial.
Even still, when asked about the five informants, Elisabet said:
While I would normally say that I have no sympathy for people that snitch, knowing what everybody went through, I have a little sympathy, because I know they were tortured physically, mentally, and emotionally. They were told they would never see their families again. They were told that their children would be arrested, that their spouses would be arrested. They were told basically that everyone they knew and loved would be destroyed if they did not cooperate.
The Trial, and its Aftermath
For the Prairieland 9, trial began February 23, 2026 — and only lasted 12 days. The prosecution called more than 45 witnesses and presented 200-plus exhibits, designed to support the charges against the nine indicted defendants: Cameron Arnold (also known as Autumn Hill), Zachary Evetts, Benjamin “Champagne” Song, Savanna Batten, Bradford “Meagan” Morris, Maricela Rueda, Elizabeth Soto, Ines Soto, and Daniel “Des Revol” Rolando Sanchez Estrada.
During the trial, Elisabet said, the prosecution’s primary goal was to use the government’s new classification of ‘Antifa’ as a terrorist organization to label the defendants’ everyday activities as signs of membership in ‘Antifa,’ thus positioning the defendants as terrorists.
Do you use the word ‘community?’ Using the word ‘community’ is apparently a hallmark of ‘Antifa.’ Participating in mutual aid or helping other people in need is a sign of ‘Antifa.’ Thinking fascism is bad is a sign of ‘Antifa.’ Learning a new skill from someone or teaching someone a new skill is ‘Antifa.’ If you look up a map of your city, to get directions, you’re ‘Antifa.’ If you use fireworks on the 4th of July, you’re ‘Antifa.’ Wearing cargo pants is tactical gear and makes you ‘Antifa.’ Attending a book club, carrying a first aid kit, participating in a group chat, writing something and sharing it with a friend, donating to a crowdfunding campaign, wearing any article of black clothing, these are signs you’re ‘Antifa.’”
Among the prosecution’s witnesses was Kyle Shideler of The Center for Security Policy, a far-right think tank labeled a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center. Shideler acknowledged contributing to the government’s definition of “Antifa,” and urged the Justice Department to take more aggressive action in his September 2025 article “How to Dismantle Far-Left Extremist Networks: A Roadmap for the Trump Administration.”
Although the defense did cross-examine the prosecution’s witnesses, and raised concerns about the validity of a testimony by Shideler, when it was time to present its case, the attorneys for the nine elected to rest, unbeknownst even to some of the defendants themselves.
Instead, the defendants were left to file appeals.
This was a poor decision, at least based on FOIA records obtained by Type Investigations and In These Times, which prove the FBI’s own files “counter” the prosecution’s argument in the case.
But, for Elisabet, the decision wasn’t entirely surprising.
“When it comes down to it, there’s not a single person around who hasn’t done one of these things now labeled ‘Antifa,’ she said. “In this case their goal went beyond criminalizing the individuals who were directly defending themselves, their goal was to create such a massive list of Antifa activities to scare people from standing up.”
Author and activist Ray Acheson agreed, adding:
The conviction of these activists should alarm everyone. This trial seems to have been built on…overnment-led efforts to criminalize mutual aid, Signal chats, leafleting, and other organizing tactics as “terrorism.” In the Prairieland case, the government’s decision to prosecute as many activists as possible as “antifa” was a political stunt meant to intimidate everyone who might show up to protest ICE or any other horrific human rights abuse the government is currently engaged in here or abroad.
Extremism expert Robert Evans, an acclaimed internet broadcaster, journalist and author, summed it up, calling the case against the Prairieland 9 “a blueprint for how the administration intends to quash freedom of assembly and freedom of speech.” The goal, he continued, was “to frighten anyone who dissents from organizing, finding community, or spreading knowledge.”
And it’s worked. “They did a pretty good job with smashing in all the doors, and making it very difficult for us to get help and support,” Elisabet said. Even before the guilty verdict, “people that we could normally depend on around here to activate to help support were too terrified to help us.”
As professor and author Stanislav Vysotsky put it, “the trial and convictions in the Prairieland case are the first major success for the federal government to generate an ‘Antifa’ prosecution out of thin air. This case sets a precedent that prosecutors can use the ‘Antifa’ boogeyman to get convictions.”
Awaiting the Appeals, and What You Can Do
As the Prairieland 9 prepares for their appeals, the DFW Support Committee is continuing to organize. The family and friends comprising the group are asking supporters to:
Post your response to the verdict, using the free graphics and links
Send letters to the defendants behind bars
Donate, or establish a fundraiser
Set up local speaking events
Start an “Emma Goldman Book Club”
Host your own noise demonstration
Phil Mandelbaum is an award-winning journalist, a co-creator of the content services division of The Associated Press, a nonprofit and political strategist, and an organizer and artist, also known as awkword.
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