Transcript of History of Blood | 3

Wndyri Plus subscribers can binge all episodes of We Came to the Forest ad-free. Join WNDYRI Plus in the WNDYRI app or on Apple podcasts. Just a note, this episode contains detailed descriptions of self-harm and references suicide. If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health, we have included resources at the end of the episode and in our show notes. Campside Media. In the late months of 2022, a woman named Belkis begins trading encrypted messages with her child, who has, in recent months, moved to Georgia to protest the construction of a new police training facility.

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He said that they want to build a huge a compound or something in the forest and destroy the trees and destroy everything around. People didn't want that.

It's been a season of change for Belquise's child. They've adopted a forest name, Tortuguita. They've begun going by they/them pronouns, which Belkis, admittedly, is still adjusting to. More worryingly, they found themselves on the front lines of a conflict that looks from the outside, like it has the potential to get very bad.

I said, Yeah, you can be hurt because of the history. I was looking at how they treat the people here. A lot of blood here. To me, it was, You are not American. What are you going to do, fighting or standing up for a country that is not your country?

That's where you're wrong, Tori explains in their messages. They may not be from Atlanta, but you don't have to be from Atlanta to oppose the militarization of the police, the clear-cutting of a beautiful forest.

He wanted help because they needed me. He said to me, Mommy, they needed me. We knew about working with wood. In the camp, he was doing what nobody likes to do, like cooking, for example, or washing the dishes.

Belkis has other reasons to be concerned. Torre is a charming, kind kid.

But Manuel, when he was angry, he was angry. He had no patience. We were a lot on therapy for management He's in a frustration, but he learned it. What can I do?

Then in December comes the news she's been dreading. There's been a major raid on the Forest Defender encampment. A handful of activists, including towards partner, Vienna, have been arrested and charged with domestic terrorism. Belkis fires off a message, her thumb a wild blur. And you, Manuel?

No, not me. I'm I'm not... I'm safe. Basically, that's what he told me. I'm safe. I'm okay.

Belquise believes them, partly because for her own psychological well-being, she has to, and partly because after the raid, the messages keep coming.

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Warm, relentless, and full of life. From WNDRI, Campside Media, and Tenderfoot TV, I'm Matthew Sher, and this is We Came to the Forest. This is episode 3, A History of Blood. As Torte and Belkis are sending encrypted messages to each other from opposite sides of the Americas, Belkis in Panama, tort hiding deep in the South River forest, Vienna is settling into a new life as an alleged domestic terrorist. In the abstract, she understands why the government wants to depict her that way. A time-honoured tradition that's been applied to generations of protesters and activists.

They're always going to try to villain people who are going against them. That's the language that this country speaks.

But knowing this doesn't necessarily make it easier for Vienna to deal with the consequences, the most immediate of which is incarceration in a very crowded jail. Two other forest defenders are incarcerated alongside her, and in the day room, common area illuminated by harsh overhead lights, they all trade stories of the raid. Later, once they're granted phone privileges, Vienna learns that her fellow activists, including Matthew and Torte, had escaped arrest. Tort by temporarily taking shelter in a large tree sit known as the pirate ship before slipping deeper into the forest. Tort can't risk talking directly to Vienna. They suspect they're being tracked by police, but they do manage to write a note, which is read to Vienna over the phone by a mutual friend. In its full defiance and optimism, the letter lifts her spirits immediately.

Just talking about how they were still committed to the movement that they loved me and that cop city would never be built. That came out at a time when all the news I was getting was what friends got arrested with me, what parts of the forest got torn down as far as the warming shack that We built a cafe for Community Potlucks, the gazebo, the parking lot. The bike trail was dug up at that time. Then all my friends that were fleeing the state because they were worried about the charges and if they would come back on them. I was very distraught in that moment. To have that message from Tortuguitza, that hit me right in the heart and that helped me to keep going.

We now know that Tort was doing their best to stay positive for their partner. Privately, in their diary, their thoughts were considerably more turbulent. Of the raid, Tort writes that, The Fash kidnapped five to six comrades and a very good dog. Those bastard The state which calls us terrorists is fascist. They call us terrorists for trying to defend the forest, for sitting in the trees to prevent them from being felt. Our beautiful camp was smashed by a bobcat. My friends were jailed. The garden raced. The cafe was obliterated. I know the struggle is not over. Fuck the naysayers. Fuck all those who believe that the state will triumph. Our resistance cannot be stopped. Mama didn't raise a coward. Fear will not stop me. Fear cannot be allowed to stop us. Initially, Vienna had held off on contacting her parents, reasoning she'd be before they were the wiser for it.

It was like, Coming up on the holidays, they would have noticed if I was just not responsive. Eventually, it made it into national news and was played in my hometown as well.

She summons her courage and gets on the phone with her mom and dad.

It was a little bit of a shock to them, but they knew I was down in Atlanta near protest stuff. But I always told them that. I was like, I'm not I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm just doing infrastructure work, really. I told them I shouldn't get arrested, and then I got arrested, and they're all worried.

The conversation is short. Still did. Vienna hangs up, goes back to her cell.

Christmas Eve night, I think it was about 9: 00, I get a call on the intercom saying, I need to get ready, I'm getting pulled out. They didn't explain to me what I was getting pulled out for. I'm just meeting, and then a sheriff comes by to collect me.

She's led down a long cement hall towards a part of the jail she has never visited.

They bring me to the clinic, and they ask me questions about my transition.

This is one of Vienna's biggest fears, one of the reasons she was so scared of being arrested, why she had tried to stay away from the front lines of the occupation. She's a trans woman imprisoned in the men's section of a jail that has minimal procedures in place for dealing trans inmates. The interview with the jail doctor hardly makes her feel any more at ease.

Asking if I had surgeries, if I'm taking hormones, all that stuff. They have me reveal myself to prove I didn't I have surgeries. At that point, the sheriff comes back in and the doctor tells the sheriff that room number 27 is open.

Viena is informed that for her own protection, she's being moved to an isolation unit.

Room number 27 is this corner cell of the, in heavy quotations, hospital. It's basically just isolation cells where they have doctors on the same floor as you. The cell is like a square with the windows are just two opaque slats, so I could see if it was light or dark out, but not much more than that. There's a little offshoot shower area where the panel was completely off. It did not work. Did not get a shower at all while I was in there. There was the sink, which only the hot button worked on. Then outside my cell, it was a little anti-chamber area. It was like a little nurse's station with the sink and everything. Then another door. Because of that, I could not hear out, and they could not hear me.

The door shuts. Viena is now completely alone, forced to start monitoring the passage of time through the two slot windows in the wall.

It is frigid cold in there, and I have a thin wool blanket and a, practically, paper sheet. I was in the fetal position trying to stay warm.

These are the conditions that can make a person go mad.

I'm crying because I realize what's happening. I asked the guards and the nurses what's going on, and no one will give me a clear answer. Nobody seems to know why I'm in there. The doctor already went home, and they told me that since tomorrow's Christmas, that the doctor wouldn't be in.

Christmas comes, goes. The next day, she gets an update. She has a new hearing, scheduled for tomorrow. She can fight through until then, she figures. Dawn comes, she dresses, sits back down on the God.

I'm like, All right, my bond hearing is at 9: 30 AM. I just need to make it a little bit longer. Even if I get denied bond, at least I'm out of my cell for a little bit.

Through the slats, Vienna watches the sun slowly get brighter.

I'm sitting there waiting, waiting, waiting. It's been light for a while now, and I started freaking out. I'm like, I missed my bond hearing. I'm freaking out, and I want to make sure I get at least my time out of in the cell. I am screaming to try and get the attention of the guards. They don't hear me because of that anti-chamber. There's this metal flap that's on this solitary door. That's where they the food in. I grabbed the flap and just slammed it up and down real loud. The guard finally comes over and I'm just fully weeping. I'm asking him, What time is it? My volunteering was at 9: 30. He just casually looks down on his watch. It's 11: 30. I damn near broke right then and there. I'm like, I need the phone. I need to talk to my lawyer. I need to talk to somebody, figure out what happened with my hearing today. That's when the guard is like, All right. And then it tries to wheel up the phone, but it does not reach all the way to my cell door. I explained that usually they let me sit out in the empty chamber.

They're like, I actually can't do that because I'm the only one on the floor, so I can't let you out of yourself.

It feels like everything that's been building up to this point, all the weight, stress, and pain, it all drops onto Vienna at once. She can hardly breathe.

I was looking at the shower where the panel was missing and hoping that the metal edge would be sharp enough. It was not. It was old. Without just slamming my head into a concrete wall, there was no easy way to harm myself. I ended up writing a letter, wrote a note to the doctor saying, You signed an oath to do no harm. You are causing psychological harm to me. Let me the fuck out.

The day after Vienna's arrest, a crowd of activists gathers at the edge of the South River forest and huddles around a clutch of microphones.

The Atlanta Police Department is using chemical weapons against unarmed, nonviolent political protesters. This is not normal. This is not normal in Atlanta. It should not be normal anywhere.

Among them is Marlon Cotts, a founder of the Atlanta Solidarity Fund, a nonprofit mutual aid group that advocates for and provides legal assistance to protesters. The chemical weapons he's referring to, by the way, are tear gas and pepper balls, non-lethal projectiles filled with eye and lung-stinging chili powder.

We've seen over the past year or during the course of the protest movement against cop city, that the police have been engaging in a deliberate campaign to demonize this particular protest movement.

Marlin is directly responsible for helping arrange bail for the arrested forest defenders, many of whom had scrawled the fund's phone number on their arms in permanent marker. The Saul fund was the first place Vienna had called from jail. Later, Marlin and his colleagues had hooked her up with an attorney. At the press conference, Marlin does not mince words. Even if all the arrested forest defenders are released, he argues, the stain of what the state has done will endure.

The governor got in on it at one point, calling the stop the city protest movement, terrorists.

But I want to be clear, the people that the police are attacking with plastic bullets, with chemical weapons, as recently as yesterday, these people were not involved in threatening anybody.

They were not involved in endangering anybody. They were sitting passively in trees trying to express a political position.

Standing alongside Marlin, not far from the microphones, is Matthew, who is there partly to speak out on behalf of the arrested activists and partly to see the destruction for himself.

There were a couple of groups of us that come through to try to salvage, recover people's things and stuff. Throughout the Trojan War, where people were able to collect their dead. In some ways, that was what it felt like.

He could hardly believe what he was seeing. What had just days earlier been a bustling space charged with the optimism of the people who lived there is now hollowed hushed.

The place got utterly trashed. There is so much love put into a space like that. The police almost take joy and absolutely destroying these things. Yeah, after those December raids, the luck had ran out.

From his position a couple hundred yards from the ruins of the Forest Defender camp, Matthew finds himself dealing with a very complicated array of emotions. He's sad about what the police have done. He's scared for his jailed friends. And honestly, he's more than a little conflicted. Because before he got the news about the raid and the arrests, he had been this close to stepping away from the Forest Defender movement, giving it up entirely, finding other avenues of protest.

There had been a couple of stupid things that had happened at this point. A couple of people that were driving by had had their windows smashed out. One person, I think, even shot back. Even internally, we had a favorable reporter come who had gotten their shit vandalized because people didn't of state media in the forest.

Eventually, a family member of a forest defender had found themselves on the receiving end of this hostility, this disorganization.

At a certain point, somebody's dad's car got destroyed because they had a canine unit stick. Like a dad joke. They had a dad joke on their car, like canine units. They had a dog in the car that traveled with... It was a minivan. It was obviously not a police car. Then the tires get slashed, they bust the shit out. It's like, this This is starting to feel more like identity seeking as anarchist than people taking steps that are conducive to creating a real movement. And we cannot win this way.

He knows this for certain. He'd seen it himself in the disintegration of the Rayshardt-Brooke's Peace Center in the parking lot of that former Wendy's. Now, he was seeing it again, as was Tord.

I remember when there was somebody that was just hetero guy that was coming to support and check it out. People were purposely trying to make him as uncomfortable as possible, and Tord was like, Well, what the fuck? How are we ever supposed to make friends? In a lot of ways, people that are so used to being downtrodden are creating this discursive space for themselves in the forest or in the movement in such a way that they're placing themselves in a position of power that they've never been in, to define the rules of engagement.

Which was a problem for one very big reason. The movement to Stop Cop City was big, diverse. It encompassed organizations devoted to forcing a referendum on the training center, organizations focused on ecological preservation, organizations dedicated to giving a voice to the residents of the historically Black neighborhoods that abutted the construction site. The forest defenders needed all those fellow activists to appreciate what they were doing, to defend them when the state and the media depicted them maliciously. And that wouldn't happen if people were getting pissed off. It wouldn't happen if all anyone saw in the forest was a bunch of punks looking for a fight. It certainly wouldn't happen if the very noble thing some of the forest defenders were accomplishing, food distribution for homeless people say, was overshadowed by tactics that were counterproductive at best. Matthew had tried, Valuantly, to get the forest defenders to invest more in outreach to area residents. Let's knock on some doors. Let's talk to people. Let's try to explain why we're here and why we want to help you, how we can help you. But it had come to not.

I think that there is complete misunderstanding in cultures. And so I think that it became very hard for young white people to communicate with older Black people in a way that didn't just reflect their viewpoint. It was very hard for people to bridge those gaps.

So, yeah, all of these concerns had snowballed in December of 22 for Matthew. He'd been ready to walk away. He basically had walked away. The arrests, though, Vienna and the others, they changed all of that.

There is a part of me that looks at these people like siblings, like younger siblings that I'm looking out for. They've been putting their asses on the line all the time. Just because I'm frustrated with a lot of other facets of the movement and different people, we're talking about the purest of heart of the people in this movement, right? I was about to walk away and pull me back in.

See, I get there. I know that reference. Particularly egregious to Matthew is the level of the charges levied against Vienna and others. This isn't misdemeanor stuff. These are felony charges that could see them in prison for the rest of their adult lives. What did it mean to you, the domestic terrorism charges, aside from the obvious that there was an escalation.

I think the police had been looking at this like a ground war for quite some time. They had tried to shut down the park so many times. They had walled it off with concrete barriers a couple of times by this point. It was just like, enough of this. We're doing this however we can. They had just gotten sick of it because they didn't really know how to deal with it. You know what I mean?

There's an opportunity here, Matthew thinks, an opportunity to gain community sympathy for a cause that has effectively been demonized by the state. The case, as he sees it, is simple. This is how far your government will go to eradicate dissent. Aren't Are you scared? You should be.

I mean, this is a real pivot for me. At the domestic terrorism, boom, is when I start to do public speaking stuff, and then I actually started to gain traction on local media.

Joining me now, Matthew Johnson.

We're actually seeing this, a Black political class, the black upper class that has continually sold out the interests of the Black working class for their own benefit. We have to move in this way where what we're really waging is a PR war because we're outmanned and outgunned, and that's forgotten.

Matthew throws himself into a PR role, talking to whomever will listen, giving interviews on TV and radio, penning essays, including one he titles A Letter of concern to Black clergy regarding cop city. In the essay, he urges his fellow pastors to stand up, to speak out about the obvious injustice being carried out in the name of the training facility. He writes, People fighting for a better tomorrow with no sanction power to defend themselves are consistently faced with moral purity tests in the media, while people who have a state sanctioned monopoly on violence are never asked to commit to nonviolence strategies. The people who have no protection under the law are expected to act with unflinching pacifism. While militarized police forces, each receiving millions of dollars to learn to not use excessive force, are constantly given the benefit of the doubt when they do. Matthew is not blind to the danger he's putting himself into. By publicly defending the tactics of the forest defenders, by merely the fact of being a young black man speaking out against the state, he is almost certainly drawing the attention of law enforcement.

My Ministry thesis project when I was in divinity school was Narcism and Envie and Liberation Organization and what I was looking at was Che, Malcolm X, and King, and some of the organizational issues that they were having. But also, one of the major components of the paper was the surveillance that they were under and the impossibility for them to be able to fully discern what was reasonable suspicion and paranoia and how is that you live in that type of impuguity.

He becomes intensely observant in a way that altars his entire existence, his entire mindset, and what he sees worries him.

There were just like just strange things that would happen. Police tale here, police tale there. Here a cop car outside my house, here a cop car outside my house. Just like little stuff. I've been moving around like a fucking drug dealer in order to do a protest movement. I'm having to watch my back everywhere I go.

Torte, for their part, seems less worried. The arrests, potential surveillance has made them somehow more determined than ever to take a stand, more determined to return to the forest, defying the orders of law enforcement.

Torte really just put pressure like, No, we need to do more ourselves and really put that pressure on people. Tor could get under your skin, right? During this time, Torte has really changed. I've become, over this time, really impressed with Torte Guita as a person. By this point, it wasn't surprising that they were one of the people going back into the forest. They're doing the damn thing at this point.

But now the difference is that you know the risks, and they know the risks, too, which are now It's tightened.

Yeah.

It doesn't matter what Tori says to Matthew and other friends. They are going to see this through to the bitter end, no matter what that end might look like. The morning after her near suicide attempt, Vienna wakes in her cell and watches the light spill across the room. When a jail staffer knocks, she prepares herself for more bad news, but the news for once is good. She's going back to general population. Then there's even better news. Marlene Cotts' Solidarity Fund has an update.

They tell me, Your bond hearing happened. You got bond. They just never pulled me out. They didn't pull any of my defendants out.

Viena has nowhere near the thousands of dollars required to pay bond on her own, but she doesn't need it. The Saul fund will cover her. And so before she knows it, after two weeks and two days in the DeKalb County Jail, Viena finds herself standing outside, back in the fresh air, squinting up at the sun. What now, she thinks. She can hardly go back to the forest, even if the camp is still intact. The terms her release prohibit it.

No contact with my co-defendants. Some people interpreted that as anyone who's involved with the movement. So getting picked up from the jail consisted of finding the people who are the least connected to the movement as possible.

She reluctantly accepts the ride from the jail from a driver provided by the Saul fund, and just as reluctantly asks this relative stranger behind the wheel to take her to the house of a friend who has rescued her dog, Ellie, from the pound. Next, she hitches a second ride to a different address, one used by supporters of the movement.

We went to this other house that had my phone, and so I was in the house that I was expecting a lot of friends to be at, and there was no friends there. That was sad.

She's broke and completely without the documents that would allow her to work. During the raid, the police had seized the safe she kept in her van.

All my identifying documents. Burst certificates, social security driver's license, an expired passport. They took everything that had my legal name on it.

Out of options, Vienna arranges to crash on an acquaintance's floor as she plots out her next steps. Luckily, there is one person who can help her lift her spirits. One person who was determined to visit her, no contact orders are not.

I remember doing errands and coming back. I'd come in the door and Torchita would be sitting there at the kitchen counter and be like, Oh, hi. Just like, It's their usual joyous, happy voice.

On New Year's Eve of 2022, Tort shows up, filthy from the forest, and says, Basically, we're getting out of town. You need a Vienna. You need a break. Let's go to Chattanooga. Let's visit some friends, get you out of the city. As they drive, Tort tells Vienna about the aftermath of the raid.

Everyone was really scared. Obviously, that was the first time DT charges came down. It's a bit nerve-wracking. A bit of that ghostly feeling, the calm after the storm, and just seeing the destruction and everything, just having to pick up the pieces and try to rebuild what was out there. Torchiquita told me that during my raid, they cut up tents and everything like that, and they cut down all the tents leading up until I shot of Torquita's tent, but they didn't go to Torchiquita's tent.

But this close call was not enough to deter them, Torquita tells Vienna.

Everyone left the forest for a few days afterwards, and eventually Torquita returned. Was one of the first people that went back because they're stubborn as all hell.

Vienna loves that tort is still burning for the fight. She loves being around them again, full stop. Once they arrive in Chattanooga, she does her best to put her worries behind her, fully temporarily.

I tried to get into a bar with my jail tag because it's a state-issued ID. That's my date of birth and a photo of myself. They wouldn't take it, but we still had a good time, and I was able to share a bed with Tortequita and everything again. That was a beautiful moment.

Vienna and Torte spend as much time as they can together in the new year. Back in Atlanta, they have their takeout feast. They see Megan, the horror movie, and the Starlight Drive They seemed like they didn't have a care in the world, or at least they didn't show it.

They had this resolve about things, and it seemed like they were just ready for whatever was to come.

Once the credits start to roll, Torte misses Vienna goodbye and heads back to the forest, back to the tent that has been their home for more than eight months. In terms of a longer term plan, would Tort have just stayed there forever?

I could see them doing that. I know that they cared a lot about that forest. I think they were hoping to always have some connection to it. They always assume that they would die there.

The night of January 16th, the night of the movie, Tort doesn't go straight to sleep. As usual, there's more to attend to, more work to be done. In this case, helping one of Vienna's co-defendants in the domestic terrorism case find a place to crash.

I get a call at about 11: 00 or 11: 30. Hello? It's Torte Guita. Hey, how are you doing, Nino?

Matthew doesn't say that he's exhausted. He's been working all day at a homeless shelter. Torte doesn't let him. They just start talking a mile a minute in true Torte fashion. There's this activist. He needs a place to stay. Can Matthew help? Well, Matthew asks, Do I know Do you know this person? Do you know this person?

Tota Kita was like, I don't know. I may have met him before. I'm just like, Look, I'm not terribly keen on having people over right now that I don't know, given that I've become much more visible and things like that. They were like, Yeah, but they really just need some place to stay. I was just like, Well, when is that? They were like, Right now? I'm like, No, Tota Kita, I'm going back to sleep. I got to be up for work.

Less than 36 hours later, Matthew's phone starts to buzz.

Then I see that someone has been shot and killed. They shot a Georgia State Patrol person first. I saw them because I knew it was somebody I knew.

That's next time on episode 4, Where We Came to the Forest. A quick note, if you are in a crisis, there is help. You can call, tag, text or chat with the Suicide and Crisis lifeline at 988, or you can contact the Crisis text line by texting talk to 741-741. If you like, We Came to the Forest, you can binge all episodes ad-free right now by joining WNDRI Plus in the WNDRI app or on Apple podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. Before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery. Com/survey. If you have a tip about a story you think we should investigate, please write to us at wndri. Com/tips. We came to the Forest as a production of Wondery, Campside Media, and Tenderfoot TV. This series is hosted by me, Matthew Sher, and is written and reported by me and Tommy Andres. For Campside Media, our producers are Abicara Dawn and Henry Lvoy. Additional production assistance from Timothy Pratt, John Ruch, Alia Papes, Johnny Kaufman, and Jamie Albright. Sound design and mix by Garret Tiedemann. Our theme is by Mondo Boys. Original music by Makeup and Vanity Set and Garret Tiedemann.

Our studio engineers are Jimmy Guthrie at Arcade 160 and Seth Cohen at Seth Co Sound. Fact-checking by Alia Papes. Tommy Andres is the executive producer. Special thanks to David Eisner. For WNDYRI, our senior producer is Lata Pandia. Coordinating producer is Cierra Franco. Development producer is Olivia Webber. Consulting by Cassius Adair of Sylvia beyond Consulting. Special thanks to the Majority Report for the use of part of their interview with Matthew Johnson. Executive producers are Vanessa Gregoriades, Josh Dean, Adam Hoff, and me, Matthew Sher, for Campside Media. Executive producers are Donald Albright and Payne Lindsay for Tenderfoot TV. Executive producers are Najri Eton, George Lavender, Marshall Louis, and Jen Sargent for WNDYRI. Daphné Galicia was a household name for her fearless reporting on government corruption in the Panama papers. Nothing got in the way of her search for the truth until she was suddenly murdered by a car bomb explosion right outside of her home. Disturbed by police in action, her son, Matthew, turns to the international journalism community to find answers. And what they find is a shocking trail of government corruption, covered up crimes, and deception that rises all the way to the top. From WNDYRI, Who Killed Daphne is a six-part podcast series hosted by investigative reporter Stephen gray about the mysterious assassination of a blogger and investigative journalist who exposed some of the most scandalous secrets of the rich and powerful.

You can binge all episodes of Who Killed Daphne exclusively and ad-free on WNDRI Plus. Start your free trial in the WNDYRI app, Apple Podcasts., or on Spotify.