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Zach Goldbaum
Wondry subscribers can listen to new episodes of Lawless Planet early and ad free right now. Join Wondry in the Wondry app or on Apple podcasts. Both candidates are on the board.
Ruby Montoya
With Wins, we project Clinton will get Vermont's three electoral votes.
Zach Goldbaum
Trump rakes in eight in the Bluegrass state of Kentucky, it's election night 2016. All across the country, Americans are glued to their televisions, watching the results come in. But not Jessica Reznicek and Ruby Montoya. They're driving down a dark rural road in northwest Iowa, heading to a construction site for the Dakota Access pipeline. The two have been protesting the pipeline for the better part of a year, doing everything possible to stop it from being built. We're talking marches, boycotts, sit ins, hunger strikes, even chaining themselves to machinery. But after a handful of arrests and no real progress, they've decided they need to do something bigger. Something with a little more teeth. In the trunk, they've got empty coffee canisters, motor oil and rags. They've done their research and built their own makeshift incendiary devices. They're crude, but they should work. And at this point, Jessica and Ruby are willing to do just about anything to stop what they see as an environmental disaster. The Dakota Access Pipeline, or dapl, is a multi billion dollar project designed to transport crude oil from North Dakota to Illinois. Once it's completed, it'll be over 1,000 miles long and carry more than half a million barrels of oil a day. Energy Transfer Partners, the company behind it, says it expects to make more than a billion dollars every year. And they insist the pipeline is safe and efficient. But critics call it an accident waiting to happen. The pipeline's route cuts across farms, sacred tribal territory, and under the Missouri and Mississippi rivers. If it leaks, it could poison drinking water for millions. And pipelines do leak. But despite those concerns, construction began in early 2016. And for activists like Ruby and Jessica, it feels like the rules don't apply to energy transfer partners. So they've decided not to play by the rules either. They park their car on the edge of the construction site and under the moon, they start hauling the canisters of gasoline out of the trunk. Machinery looms in the dark. A bulldozer, two excavators, a crane. Jessica and Ruby stuff the oil soaked rags into the canisters and slide them onto the seats of the machines. Then, with trembling hands, they strike matches and light em up. The flames catch fast, not too shabby for first time arsonists, but Jessica and Ruby don't stick around to admire their work. Around 11pm Someone driving along the highway spots the Blaze and calls 911. By the time the firefighters arrive, the machines are engulfed. What's left in the morning are just charred hulks of metal. An estimated $2.5 million worth of damages. But no one at the scene of the crime has any idea who is responsible. Jessica and Ruby are already long gone. The women think they've pulled off the perfect hit, a major blow to the pipeline's construction. But they'll soon realize that what felt momentous to them was just a minor inconvenience to energy transfer. Partners Jessica and Ruby keep up their campaign of sabotage, but energy transfer always seems to be one step ahead of them. It's like someone knows what's coming. From Wondry I'm Zach Goldbaum and this is Lawless Planet. Each week we tell a new story about the true crimes fueling the climate crisis and the people fighting to save the planet or destroy it.
Jessica Reznicek
We are not sleeping.
Ruby Montoya
We are not leaving.
Zach Goldbaum
We are not leaving.
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Zach Goldbaum
Protest is messy. Just look at American history. The Boston Tea Party was a carnival of property destruction, but in the end it helped spark the Revolutionary War. The Stonewall riots, which marked the beginning of the modern gay rights movement, were a multi day street brawl with the nypd. Even the Civil rights movement, the gold standard of nonviolent resistance, had outbreaks of violence. These were not permanent, perfect protests because there is no such thing. And before these movements were sanitized to the point that they fit on a postage stamp, they all faced the same how far should we go in the pursuit of justice? Where is the line and when do we escalate. Today, environmental activists are grappling with the same dilemma. At a time when we're careening past every threshold of warming designated to prevent climate chaos, the debate for some members of the movement is no longer when, but how. What tactics are required to meet the moment. This is the story of what led Jessica Reznicek and Ruby Montoya to take blowtorches to a pipeline and what happened after. It's about what people will do when they feel like they're out of options and out of time. But it's also about how far powerful institutions will go to stop them. After days of walking and hitchhiking, Jessica Reznicek finally made it. She's reached the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation in south central North Dakota. She's been on a mission to get here ever since she heard about indigenous protesters starting a camp to resist the Dakota Access pipeline. It's summer 2016 by the time she arrives. And she is not alone. Thousands of people from across the country have gathered to stand with the indigenous tribes protesting. They're camping out, chaining themselves onto construction equipment, and forming human blockades to halt the pipeline's progress. The tension around Daple has been brewing for years. The pipeline's original route would have passed near Bismarck, North Dakota, but it was rerouted out of concern it might contaminate the city's drinking water. Instead, the federal government redirected it south, closer to the Standing Rock Reservation. They could do that because they'd seized the land from the tribe in 1958. Tribal leaders weren't consulted. Not about the route, not about the risk to their water, not about the sacred sites and burial grounds that lie in the pipeline's path. And it should come as no surprise that this kind of thing has happened before. In the 1950s and 60s, construction of dams along the Missouri river cut into the already shrinking Standing Rock Reservation. To many, the Dakota Access Pipeline feels like history repeating itself. And once Jessica arrives, the damage is just getting underway. Construction is pushing ahead at full speed. Sacred sites are bulldozed. And the fear is once oil starts flowing, any spill or leak could contaminate the water supply for millions downstream. For Jessica, stopping the pipeline is an emergency.
Jessica Reznicek
I think that the oil being taken out of the ground and the machinery that does it and the infrastructure which supports it, this is violent.
Zach Goldbaum
By now, protest is a central part of Jessica's life. She got her start with the Occupy Wall street movement back in 2011. Ever since then, she's been joining different groups and has found a home with the Catholic Workers of Iowa. They're a movement committed to nonviolence, community service and resistance. And she identifies specifically as a plowshares activist, a strain of Catholic workers who believe that property damage can be a legitimate form of protest.
Jessica Reznicek
We do understand the need to dismantle infrastructure when it poses a threat to human life and liberty.
Zach Goldbaum
Before Standing Rock, she'd already been arrested several times. Most recently, she was in jail for smashing the windows of a Northrop Grumman office, protesting the military drones they made. But compared to every other protest she's joined, the fight over the Dakota Access Pipeline feels more personal. Dapple runs through her home state of Iowa. She wants to do more than just march or break a couple of windows. So she leaves Standing Rock and heads back home. She hitches a ride to a construction site two and a half hours outside of Des Moines, where crews are preparing to bore beneath the Mississippi River. She doesn't have a plan, exactly, but she knows her first move. Make a scene. Jessica's ride drops her on a quiet stretch of road near the Mississippi River, a few miles south of a Daple construction site. She's alone. It's early fall, and the air smells like dry leaves and diesel. She walks until she finds the road that leads to the construction zone, the one used by trucks hauling equipment in and out. There's debris scattered nearby, plywood and tires that the crews forgot about. Jessica thinks to herself. Perfect. One by one, she starts to drag the tires into the middle of the road, stacking them on top of each other. Then she leans a wide sheet of plywood against them. She grabs a marker from her backpack and writes across the wood in big, bold letters. Water is life. Then she starts playing her guitar. It doesn't take long for the first truck to arrive. It rumbles up the road and slows to a stop in front of her blockade. The driver waits for her to move, but Jessica just keeps strumming. The truck driver does not get paid enough to deal with this shit, so he reverses out of there. Ten minutes later, a sheriff pulls up. He asks her to move. She refuses. In a huff, he starts moving the tires himself. But Jessica tells him she's just going to move the tires right back. As soon as he leaves, the sheriff sighs. It's like Jessica is egging him on to arrest her. And she kind of is.
Jessica Reznicek
And I stated to the officials that I came here in the spirit of love and compassion and respect and that I would go to jail for this. And so I went to jail and I was released about 24 hours later. And then I came right back out here and was arrested again. Then the third time I was released, I came right back out here again and talked to the deputy and I said, look, where can I be on this premises?
Zach Goldbaum
Jessyca sets up camp in a public parking space on the side of the road. Then reporters start coming by. She speaks with one from Tri State's public radio about her hopes for her one woman stand.
Jessica Reznicek
My encampment here, I visualize, is just the beginning of a beautiful, widespread mass movement like we've seen up in North Dakota. And it starts sometimes just with one person and a supportive community to make these things grow and our voices will be heard.
Zach Goldbaum
Word spreads. Activists start showing up, or water protectors, as they like to be called. By the end of the week, there are 50 of them together. They call the encampment Mississippi Stand. But Jessica keeps calling for even more people to join.
Jessica Reznicek
Folks, the time is now to join us in this effort. What we need to do is put our bodies in front of this black snake. It's time to protect our waters and to take our land and water back. Join us here at Mississippi Stand.
Zach Goldbaum
One of the new arrivals is Ruby Montoya. She pulls up in an SUV with Arizona plates and a brand new tent still smelling of plastic. She's got yoga gear, military time on her watch, and cookware that's clearly never touched a flame. Jessica's antennas go up. Is this girl a cop? She's not. And in the weeks to come, Jessica and Ruby will lock arms with hundreds of others, chaining themselves to machinery and blocking trucks in a high stakes game of chicken. But the pipeline is still advancing, and soon both women will start asking an uncomfortable what if peaceful protest is not enough? Okay, let's rewind for a second and talk about Ruby. Before Mississippi Stand, she wasn't an activist. She was a preschool teacher. Her days were spent in classrooms reading picture books and helping toddlers tie their shoes. But then she saw a headline about the Dakota Access Pipeline.
Ruby Montoya
I read about what they were intending to do to put these sturdy petroleum pipes underneath our major waterways here in the United States. And I was aghast by their intentions. So I quit my job and I went to Standing Rock in North Dakota.
Zach Goldbaum
Ruby camped, protested, and listened. And while she was there, she heard about another protest site forming hundreds of miles away. A single woman building a blockade in the middle of a road in Iowa. Ruby was intrigued. Her mom's family was from Iowa. It felt like a sign. So she packed up her SUV and headed east. As I mentioned Ruby stood out at Mississippi Stand when she first showed up, and not necessarily in a good way. Her gear was too clean, her tent too new. She did yoga and spoke in idealistic sound bites. But she was earnest, and she was.
Ruby Montoya
All in believing in this cause so much. I came here to Mississippi Stand to support these people and to support what we believe in this future for our children. Yesterday's action was successful, and these small actions from these people here is what is going to stop the pipeline.
Zach Goldbaum
It doesn't matter whether they hold off the machines for days or hours, because every minute of disruption counts. But then, in early September, news comes out of Standing Rock that horrifies both Ruby and Jessica.
Ruby Montoya
People have gone through the fence. Men, women, and children. The bulldozers are still going, and they're yelling at the men in hard hats. One man in hard hat threw one of the protesters down. Some of the security have dogs. Security has some gas. People are being pepper sprayed.
Zach Goldbaum
They're not leaving, those security guys. They're one of many private contractors that energy transfer partners had hired to protect the pipeline. Some are using militarized tactics like dogs, tear gas, water cannons in freezing temperatures. Others, including an outfit called TigerSwan, are focused on intelligence gathering. And they're all working hand in hand with law enforcement to protect construction. Ruby and Jessica know that it's only a matter of time before the same tactics come to Iowa. But they're not going to let that stop them. They keep on with their mission, even when it lands them in jail.
Ruby Montoya
In southeastern Iowa, 12 activists were arrested Saturday as they disrupted efforts by the Dakota Access Pipeline Company to drill under the Mississippi River. Fearing a possible oil spill could contaminate the water, three of the protesters chain themselves to a backhoe just before the start of the workday, delaying construction at the site for several hours.
Zach Goldbaum
Ruby and Jessica are thrown in the same cell. And they get to talking, like, really talking about what they're up against and about what they're willing to do about it. Are they serious about actually stopping this thing when they get out of jail? Things at Mississippi Stand are dire. Despite all their best efforts, construction has plowed ahead. The pipeline is now just days away from being fully connected beneath the Mississippi River. And if that happens, the section running through Iowa becomes operational and is nearly impossible to stop. Jessica and Ruby know the clock is ticking. They have less than a week to make something happen. Jessica offers a final plea on Facebook, begging any protesters who have left because of arrests to come back.
Jessica Reznicek
We only have a few days left to get this Done. We know how you feel about it. We know your dedication because you risked your life and your freedom already once. Please come back. We need people. Please be here.
Zach Goldbaum
Even as they wait to see who answers the call, Jessica and Rose Ruby already know what they're going to do. And what happens next will push them across a line they can't come back from.
Jessica Reznicek
This is what democracy looks like. This is what democracy looks like.
Zach Goldbaum
In October of 2016, Ruby and Jessica are protesting in Iowa when they get some bad news. Construction is complete on the section of pipeline they've been trying to stop. It feels like the end of something, but not the end. Ruby goes live on Facebook.
Ruby Montoya
We gave it all we had and we're giving more. The fight is not over. There is plenty of pipeline to fight. There's. There's plenty of Dakota access to confront and stop.
Zach Goldbaum
From there, Ruby, Jessica, and other organizers take to Facebook, rallying supporters to keep the fight alive. If they can't stop the pipeline here, they'll stop it somewhere else. A few activists head north to Standing Rock. Others form a convoy trailing the pipeline across Iowa, locking onto machinery. Wherever construction is underway, more protesters join the effort. There's Alex Cohen, a young guy who quickly became one of the vocal leaders of Mississippi Stand. There's Kima Saline, who was studying aromatherapy in Ohio before joining the movement. And then there's Joel Edwards, a former Marine with a bushy beard and a friendly dog named Sully that everyone adores. At first, it feels like momentum is building, but as the group gets bigger, it's harder to know who's really in it for the right reasons. And then strange things start to happen. Energy Transfer Partners always seems to be one step ahead. Protest actions are stopped before they even begin. Police show up with alarming precision. It starts to feel like someone somewhere is leaking their plans. No one says it out loud, not yet. But the suspicion is there, lingering in the background. Still, the activists try to stay focused. That kind of doubt is how the other side wins. While Jessica and Ruby plan their next moves, other members of the movement start meeting in a hotel room. One of them, Joel Edwards, works for the hotel chain and gets a free room once a week. A place for the activists to take a hot shower, warm up, sleep in a real bed. One night, they're all huddled in Joel's hotel room. Kima had picked up some alcohol from a local liquor store. And the conversation shifts to Standing Rock, specifically the Red Warrior camp, a controversial group within the larger protest movement. Some activists think they're being too aggressive Others, like Alex, push back, arguing that Red Warrior is a necessary force that's willing to take bold action. They talk about posting in support of the group, making a public statement of solidarity. It's the kind of honest, vulnerable debate you have when you think you're among allies. But somehow, everything the group is saying that night is making its way back to Energy transfer partners. In November 2016, Energy Transfer Partners receives a message confirming that Mississippi Stand leaders have endorsed the Red Warrior camp faction. The two groups might even work together in the future. The message is from a private, shadowy security firm called TigerSwan, and they're on energy transfers payroll. By this point, TigerSwan has deployed operatives across five states. There are the public facing employees who are making sure construction stays on track. And then there are the undercover agents who are embedded in protest camps, gathering intelligence. The operatives collect names, track social media posts, and compile dossiers on individual protesters. Their internal group chats are full of racist jokes, like one about drunk Indians, and their messages refer to protesters as jihadists. A lot of the employees at TigerSwan are veterans of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and they're treating the protesters as the enemy. From TigerSwan's perspective, this all feels necessary. Equipment has been vandalized, construction sites sabotaged. And on the night of November 8, the night of the US presidential election, construction equipment in northwest Iowa was torched. We know those arsonists were Jessica and Ruby, but their actions remain a secret, even to their fellow protesters. For now. It's near the end of 2016, and Jessyca is trying a new strategy to protest the pipeline. She's on a hunger strike. On Thanksgiving Day, she sits outside of the Iowa Utilities Board building, hoping to get their attention.
Jessica Reznicek
I've been up and seen the atrocities at Standing Rock twice now. Faced tear gas, an alliance with indigenous peoples who are fighting just to protect their land and their water and our land and our water. They're doing it for us as well and can only return the favor by fighting on a local level in my own city, my own backyard, and telling the Iowa Utilities Board to do their job.
Zach Goldbaum
The Iowa Utilities Board doesn't budge. But then something unexpected happens. They're overruled by President Barack Obama, who makes a decision during his final weeks in office.
Jessica Reznicek
The Obama administration denied a permit Sunday that would have completed the last leg of the Dakota Pipeline project, prompting celebrations in the Cannonball, North Dakota camps, where the numbers of supporters of the Standing Rock Sioux tribe had swelled to over 5,000.
Zach Goldbaum
Jessica can't believe the news. Her stomach twists. Not from Hunger. But from shock. Could this be real? Did they just win? She ends her strike, breaking her fast with a spoonful of chicken soup. Her photo runs in local news and she is beaming. After months of tireless protesting, it finally seems like the pipeline is dead in the water. But the victory is short lived. Just weeks after he takes office, Donald Trump reverses Obama's decision. The permits are back, construction resumes, and activists like Jessica are right back where they started in February. Jessica links back up with Ruby and they discuss their next moves. They both feel like it's time to escalate things. Their last big action, when they firebombed those machines in November, had made more of a difference than any anything else they'd done. But they know that property damage isn't wholeheartedly accepted by the movement because once you start down that road, you sacrifice the high ground and give the other side ammunition. The corporations and the government can argue that the entire movement is engaged in acts of eco terrorism. But Jessica and Ruby believe that as long as no people are getting hurt, then their actions are justified.
Jessica Reznicek
We are removing destructive machinery from construction sites and we are not the destroyers. We're the property improvers.
Zach Goldbaum
So in an effort to improve on the property, they get to work. Their new goal is to disable the pipeline itself. Not just the machines, but they have to figure out how to pierce steel. They learn that their best bet is to use oxyacetylene cutting torches. They go out and buy supplies from welding stores outside of the city. To avoid suspicion.
Ruby Montoya
The oxyacetylene torch, it came with instructions on how to cut and how to weld, and we just focused on how to cut because we weren't welding.
Jessica Reznicek
It was a process of trial and error.
Zach Goldbaum
Teaching ourselves, Jessica and Ruby practice until they can slice through a valve in under seven minutes. And then they set off on their mission.
Ruby Montoya
So after acquiring that knowledge, we began first in Mahaska County, Iowa, piercing through a valve there. And later we continued until we ran out of supplies, hitting multiple valve sites.
Zach Goldbaum
Every time they do this, they delay construction by days or even weeks at a time. Their goal is to drain Energy Transfer's resources. And by some estimates, they'd inflicted $6 million in damages. Then one night in early May, they're in Wapo County, Iowa, torch in hand, same as always. Only this time, they hear something inside the pipe, something coursing through it, a low gushing sound. They freeze. There is already oil flowing through the pipe. It's a sobering moment. Despite everything they've done, the pipeline is still fully operational. And these latest acts of sabotage. They haven't even made the news. It was crickets. But just because their vandalism isn't getting much attention, it doesn't mean that energy transfer isn't taking notice. That's because TigerSwan's surveillance net is tightening, and Jessica and Ruby have no idea. TigerSwan has an operative that's been surveilling Jessica and Ruby's group, and their strategy is spelled out in a PowerPoint presentation that would later be leaked to a reporter at the news outlet the intercept. But that PowerPoint, it's so ridiculous. They literally call it Operation Baratheon. As in House Baratheon from Game of thrones. It is 2016, but still. Come on. Either way, Operation baratheon is on. TigerSwan headquarters gets regular updates via coded messages sent over WhatsApp. If everything is good, they'll receive an innocuous note. But if an imminent action is going to take place, the message will say, shit's about to get real. Which, like, isn't actually coded language. But anyway, the TigerSwan support team responds in civilian speed. They're specifically ordered not to use any military syntax. That's because the person leaking this information isn't observing the group from afar. They are deep inside, pretending to be an activist. Day after day, sending coded messages back to TigerSwan for planning sessions, protests, even. Even hotel rooms. And soon, the moles. Reports will start mentioning two new names. Jessica Reznicek and Ruby Montoya. In March 2017, while Ruby and Jessica are out on the road sabotaging the pipeline, their fellow activists start getting weird Facebook messages. One of those DMs lands in Heather Pearson's inbox. She's an activist with Bold Iowa, a grassroots environmental group that's been fighting the pipeline since the beginning. The message comes from a user going by the name Burt Macklin, which, if you don't know, is a shout out to the TV show Parks and Recreation. They had a running joke about a fake FBI agent with that name. Burt's message is short and to the point. Heather, you don't know me. And this is a fake Facebook, obviously, but I know who the Iowa mole was. From the pipeline. Macklin then sends a link to a military news website. When Heather opens it up, she recognizes the face right away. It's Joel, the former Marine with the friendly dog who'd been providing hotel accommodations for the protesters. But his last name isn't Edwards. It's actually McCullough. Heather is stunned. Joel must be the mole. There had been growing suspicions that someone in Iowa was feeding information to the other side. But this message confirms it. Heather starts quietly warning others. They don't confront Joel directly. Instead, they keep an eye on him. Meanwhile, Joel is bouncing between activist groups, collecting intel. In April, he shows up in Chicago for a climate march. He takes pictures and videos of the protest. And he subtly, or maybe not so subtly, starts asking around about Jessica and Ruby. Their sabotage work has begun to circulate through activist networks, and Joel wants to know if the two of them are responsible. After the march, a group of activists head out to dinner, and Joel tags along. He keeps pressing people about plans for the next day, but the group's not as forthcoming as usual. Finally, one of the group's organizers pulls Joel aside. She tells him flat out that they know he's the mole and he's no longer welcome. Joel laughs it off, denies it. But after that, he quickly fades out of the Chicago activist scene. And soon, everyone will understand just how deep the betrayal went. Because the next month, the Intercept starts publishing leaked situation reports from TigerSwan. The reports are filled with surveillance of activists and the groups that Joel embedded himself in. They're all over the documents. The expose also reveals emails and records between TigerSwan and government agencies. And what they show is chilling. TigerSwan was regularly sharing intel with the FBI, the Department of Homeland Security, the U.S. justice Department, the Marshals Service, and local law enforcement. In effect, a private oil company had its own secret police, treating American citizens like enemy combatants and coordinating with actual government agencies and using tactics developed in the war on terror against climate activists on US soil. An invoice from that time shows that TigerSwan had billed a subsidiary of Energy Transfer $17 million for just 15 months of work. That's a lot of money and a lot of incentive to keep chasing activists who are causing problems. Jessica and Ruby aren't named in the Intercept article, but they are in actual TigerSwan reports. In July 2017, a reporter from the Intercept reaches out to them. Jessica and Ruby agree to talk, but they deny being involved in any pipeline vandalism or sabotage. When the interview ends and they're alone again, the question lingers. Should they take credit? Ruby recounts what happened next.
Ruby Montoya
So after we got off the phone, we talked together, and it was like, fuck it, man, let's claim it because we didn't stop the pipeline. We both feel personally responsible for that, and this is the last thing we can do. And you know what? People need to talk about it.
Zach Goldbaum
It's the morning of July 24, 2017. Jessica and Ruby wake up Knowing exactly what kind of day this is going to be. Jessica gathers her thoughts. Ruby pulls on a Stop the Pipeline T shirt. They step out onto the porch of the Catholic Workers home where they're living, and they set off for the Iowa Utilities board building at 10am they stand in the tall grass just in front of the building sign and they begin to read. It's not a protest speech, it's a confession. They calmly deliver a full account of everything they've done and take responsibility for millions of dollars in damages.
Ruby Montoya
Some may view these actions as violent, but be not mistaken, we acted from our hearts and never threatened human life nor personal property. What we did do was fight a private corporation that has run rapidly across our country, seizing land and polluting our nation's water supply.
Zach Goldbaum
When they finish reading their prepared statements, they unzip their backpack and pull out a hammer and crowbar. They begin ripping letters off the utilities board sign behind them. They each get one letter off before the cops move in and arrest them. They're charged with fourth degree criminal mischief for defacing the sign. And that's it for now. But there is no way that Jessica and Ruby are going to get off scot free. They know it. The government knows is just a matter of when.
Ruby Montoya
This morning, two Des Moines women accused.
Zach Goldbaum
Of vandalizing the Dakota Access pipeline have.
Jessica Reznicek
Been indicted on federal charges.
Zach Goldbaum
Prosecutors say Ruby Montoya and Jessica Reznicek.
Jessica Reznicek
Could each face decades in prison if convicted.
Zach Goldbaum
Two years after their press conference, Ruby and Jessica are officially hit with nine felony counts for intentionally damaging energy infrastructure. They face up to 110 years in prison, plus hundreds of thousands of dollars in fines. At first, Ruby's hopeful that the trial will go their way.
Ruby Montoya
I was a preschool teacher last year and now I'm here facing felonies or whatever. So we don't know what's going to happen. I don't think it's going to be this open and shut. Throw us in a cell. I think we'll be surprised. We get acquitted.
Zach Goldbaum
But after about a year and a half of legal back and forth, they agree to plead guilty to one of the charges. Conspiracy to damage an energy facility. It seems like a strategic move to avoid the harshest penalties. Prosecutors have other plans. Because then, after they've already pled guilty, the government pushes for a terrorism enhancement. It's an additional penalty reserved for acts considered a threat to national security. Because the pipeline was classified as critical infrastructure, their protest is rebranded as terrorism. It feels like a total bait and switch. The government coaxed a guilty plea out of them in exchange for a lighter punishment, only to hit them with an even harsher sentence after the fact. Ruby is sentenced to six years in prison, and Jessica ends up getting sentenced to eight. She plans on appealing the terrorism enhancement, hoping to get her sentence reduced.
Jessica Reznicek
I'm very well convinced that I am not a terrorist. Yeah, I'm a little confused as to how like this this came to be, particularly when the actions that I took were against a private industry, not against any public office, any public official. And the judge was very clear that she was sentencing me harshly so as to make it a deterrent from others to make similar stands.
Zach Goldbaum
The judge argued that Ruby and Jessica put the lives of pipeline workers and firefighters at risk. And because their actions were intended to, quote, affect the conduct of government by intimidation or coercion, they met the federal definition of terrorism. It's a frightening precedent that, if applied elsewhere, could have a chilling effect on climate activism. And that's not the only thing. In recent years, lawmakers in 21 states have passed so called critical infrastructure protection laws that make it a felony to even trespass around oil and gas pipelines, as well as ports, refineries, and waterways. In the past few years, dozens of activists have been arrested and charged under these laws and face up to 10 years in prison. The kind of punishment once reserved for violent offenders. And it's not just the punishment that's escalating, but the machinery behind it. Surveillance, infiltration, federal terrorism enhancements, which the judge rationalized using the Patriot act, of all things. These are post 911 tactics used on American activists, all spurred by a private security firm deputized by a fossil fuel company. In 2018, the CEO of that company, Energy Transfer, spoke at an industry conference, and he was asked about his views of environmental activists. Well, for example, you're talking about somebody needs to be removed from the gene pool. We had people drilling holes in our pile.
Ruby Montoya
Drilling holes.
Zach Goldbaum
Yeah, you heard that right. Somebody that needs to be removed from the gene pool. For an extra dose of irony, Jessica signed her plea deal on January 6, 2021, the same day as the Capitol insurrection. But unlike many high profile J6 defendants, Jessica and Ruby were the ones who got the terrorism enhancements. And last I checked, President Trump hasn't given them a pardon. Today. Both women remain incarcerated. Ruby is expected to be released in October 2026, and Jessica in October 2027. So what does it mean when climate defenders are punished more harshly than those who stormed the Capitol? Why is protecting a pipeline treated like a national security priority while protecting the water and land it threatens isn't. Jessica and Ruby's story is messy. There are a lot of activists that see their action as harmful to the broader environmental movement. They believe that violence, if that's what you want to call property damage, is the fastest way to alienate potential allies. But Jessica sees it differently.
Jessica Reznicek
There are many who have come before me who have spent time in prison for their convictions and spent time in prison and really affected change in this nation and in the world.
Zach Goldbaum
In 2018, a year after Jessica and Ruby stood in that grassy field in Iowa and took responsibility for what they had done, the United States became the number one producer of crude oil in the world, surpassing Russia and Saudi Arabia. Joe Biden had promised no more drilling on public lands, but approved about as many new permits for oil and gas as Trump, who is now vowing to drill, baby, drill. Today, the Dakota Access pipeline is still running, transporting roughly 750,000 barrels of oil a day. But even though she wasn't able to stop the pipeline, Jessica says she has no regrets.
Jessica Reznicek
I can't imagine having done it differently because I conducted myself with integrity. I think there are times when I was like, I shouldn't have claimed responsibility for these actions. They didn't have any evidence to hold against me. But those aren't the things that keep you up at night being honest. I can sleep still being honest.
Zach Goldbaum
Whether or not you agree with their tactics, Jessica and Ruby didn't simply throw up their hands when it comes to the threat of climate change. Because for them, the only thing scarier than the consequences of their actions are the consequences of inaction.
Ruby Montoya
I was a preschool teacher and I love kids and we're not leaving them anything. And it's, it's scary. It's scary what everyone is going through. And I think it's fear that prevents people from acting. And I was afraid as well. But it had to be done.
Zach Goldbaum
Follow Lawless Planet on the Wondry app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to new episodes of Lawless Planet early and ad free right now by joining Wondry plus in the Wonder app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. Before you go, tell us about yourself by completing a short survey@wondry.com survey. Coming up next week, the story of the largest green energy scam in US History carried out by a seriously unlikely duo.
Jessica Reznicek
Lavon was a Bell Bel Air billionaire.
Ruby Montoya
And gas station tycoon when he joined.
Zach Goldbaum
Forces with members of the polygamous Kingston clan. We use a lot of sources when researching our stories, and for this episode, we really recommend you Check out Aline Brown's reporting from her time at the Intercept and Julia Shipley's piece from Grist and Rolling Stone called you'd strike a Match. And also Democracy now for the interviews of Ruby and Jessica Lawless Planet is produced and hosted by me, Zach Goldbaum. Alex Burns wrote this episode. Our senior producer and story editor is Derek John. Senior producers for wondery are Peter A.R. cooney and Andy Herman. Our senior managing producer is Nick Ryan. Our managing producer is Sarah Kenny Corrigan. Our associate producer is Lexi Pirie. Music and sound design by Kenny Kusiak. Dialogue edit by George Drabing Hicks. Our music supervisor is Scott Velasquez for Frison Sink. Fact checking by Naomi Barr. Our legal counsel is Deb Droze. Executive producers are Marshall Louie, Aaron o', Flaherty, N' Jeri Eaton, and Jenny Lauer. Beckman for Wondry. Okay, thanks for listening. See you next week.
Ruby Montoya
Bye.
In the gripping episode of Lawless Planet titled "Surveillance and Sabotage on the Dakota Access Pipeline," host Zach Goldbaum delves deep into the tumultuous journey of two determined environmental activists, Jessica Reznicek and Ruby Montoya. Their relentless battle against the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) showcases the extreme measures taken in the fight to protect our planet and the formidable challenges posed by powerful corporations and surveillance entities.
The Dakota Access Pipeline is a multi-billion-dollar infrastructure project designed to transport crude oil from North Dakota to Illinois, spanning over 1,000 miles and capable of moving more than half a million barrels of oil daily. Energy Transfer Partners, the company behind DAPL, boasts projected annual revenues exceeding a billion dollars, touting the pipeline's safety and efficiency. However, critics argue that the pipeline poses significant environmental risks, including potential leaks that could contaminate drinking water sources for millions, especially as the route traverses farms, sacred tribal lands, and beneath major rivers like the Missouri and Mississippi.
Zach Goldbaum sets the stage by highlighting the pipeline's contentious path and the deep-rooted fears among activists about environmental degradation and the disregard for indigenous territories. The episode underscores how construction commenced in early 2016 despite mounting opposition, raising tensions and prompting a spectrum of protest activities.
Jessica Reznicek emerges as a seasoned activist with a history rooted in movements like Occupy Wall Street (2011) and affiliations with the Catholic Workers of Iowa, a group advocating nonviolent resistance. Jessica identifies as a plowshares activist, believing that property damage can be a legitimate form of protest when infrastructure threatens human life and liberty.
“We do understand the need to dismantle infrastructure when it poses a threat to human life and liberty.” ([09:48])
Her activism intensified with the Dakota Access Pipeline, leading to multiple arrests over the years, including dismantling windows at a Northrop Grumman office to protest military drone production.
In contrast, Ruby Montoya transitions from a preschool teacher to a fervent environmental activist after witnessing the impending threat of DAPL. Inspired by indigenous protesters at Standing Rock, Ruby joins the movement, driven by a profound concern for future generations.
“I read about what they were intending to do to put these sturdy petroleum pipes underneath our major waterways here in the United States. And I was aghast by their intentions.” ([14:44])
Ruby's initial foray into activism is marked by idealism and a strong belief in the cause, although her methods initially appear unconventional to her peers.
Frustrated by minimal progress through conventional protest methods—marches, boycotts, sit-ins, and hunger strikes—Jessica and Ruby resort to more drastic measures to hinder the pipeline's construction. Inspired by historical acts of protest that oscillate between civil disobedience and property damage, they believe that escalating their actions is necessary to make a significant impact.
Zach Goldbaum draws parallels between their actions and historical protests:
“These were not permanent, perfect protests because there is no such thing. And before these movements were sanitized to the point that they fit on a postage stamp, they all faced the same how far should we go in the pursuit of justice?” ([05:44])
In a bold move, Jessica and Ruby engage in acts of sabotage against DAPL construction sites. Under the cover of darkness, they deploy makeshift incendiary devices—burning machinery at a construction site, causing an estimated $2.5 million in damages.
“We are not the destroyers. We're the property improvers.” ([26:22])
Their actions, while significant to them and their cause, are portrayed as minor inconveniences by Energy Transfer Partners, showcasing the imbalance of power between individual activists and large corporations.
Despite their efforts, Jessica and Ruby find themselves perpetually one step behind the company's strategies. This is due to the involvement of TigerSwan, a private, shadowy security firm contracted by Energy Transfer Partners to protect the pipeline. TigerSwan employs militarized tactics and sophisticated surveillance methods, including the deployment of undercover operatives within activist groups to gather intelligence and preempt protests.
Zach illustrates the invasive nature of TigerSwan's operations:
“TigerSwan was regularly sharing intel with the FBI, the Department of Homeland Security, the U.S. Justice Department, the Marshals Service, and local law enforcement.” ([27:07])
The infiltration reaches a critical point when Joel Edwards, a former Marine and beloved figure within the activist community, is revealed as a mole working for TigerSwan. His betrayal highlights the extent of corporate surveillance and the erosion of trust within activist networks.
The culmination of Jessica and Ruby's activism leads to severe legal consequences. Charged with multiple felonies related to sabotage and vandalism of critical infrastructure, they face harsh sentencing under newly enacted critical infrastructure protection laws that equate such acts with terrorism.
“We are removing destructive machinery from construction sites and we are not the destroyers. We're the property improvers.” ([26:22])
Their legal battles expose the aggressive tactics employed by both corporations and the government, utilizing terrorism enhancements to rebrand environmental activism as a national security threat. This shift not only serves as a deterrent to other activists but also sets a concerning precedent for the criminalization of dissent in the fight against environmental degradation.
Despite their imprisonment, Jessica and Ruby's story underscores the escalating stakes in environmental activism. While their sabotage efforts incurred millions in damages, the pipeline remained operational, symbolizing the formidable obstacles activists face against entrenched corporate interests.
The episode concludes by reflecting on the broader implications of their actions and sentencing:
“It's scary what everyone is going through. And I think it's fear that prevents people from acting. And I was afraid as well. But it had to be done.” ([42:53])
Their unwavering commitment, despite the personal and legal costs, raises critical questions about the lengths necessary to effect change and the societal structures that hinder progress in addressing climate crises.
This episode of Lawless Planet paints a vivid portrait of the high-stakes battle between environmental activists and powerful energy corporations. Through the lens of Jessica Reznicek and Ruby Montoya's experiences, listeners gain insight into the complex interplay of grassroots activism, corporate surveillance, and the evolving legal landscape surrounding environmental protests. The narrative serves as a poignant exploration of the sacrifices made in the pursuit of a sustainable future and the systemic challenges that activists must navigate.
For those intrigued by the intricate dynamics of environmental activism and the profound personal narratives that drive the fight against climate change, Lawless Planet offers an unflinching look into the heart of the struggle. Follow the ongoing investigations and revelations by subscribing to Lawless Planet on the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify.