The prosecutions in Cop City are based on a new definition of domestic terrorism

In a forest on the outskirts of Atlanta, hundreds of demonstrators gathered again last March to try to stop the construction of a new police and fire training center.

For Timothy Bilodeau, a 26-year-old who flew in from Boston, the fight that began in 2021 had taken on new urgency after state troopers killed a protester weeks earlier in a shootout in the woods that also wounded an officer.

The day Mr. Bilodeau entered, there was another fiery confrontation. A crowd marched to the development site, where some protesters threw fireworks and Molotov cocktails and set fire to equipment. Police arrested nearly two dozen protesters, including Mr. Bilodeau.

As Mr. Bilodeau saw it, he was taking a principled stand against the destruction of the forest. But prosecutors took a darker view: They charged Mr. Bilodeau and 22 others with domestic terrorism.

A total of 42 people involved in the demonstrations against the training center have been charged under Georgia’s domestic terrorism law. This is one of the largest cases of its kind in the country, on a charge that is rarely prosecuted.

As several states have added or expanded terrorism laws or are considering doing so, Georgia’s case is at the center of the debate over the need for these measures, the dangers they pose and, more fundamentally, what constitutes terrorism. (One proposal in New York has suggested that blocking traffic, a tactic occasionally used at demonstrations, could be considered domestic terrorism.)

Georgia expanded its definition in 2017 to include attempts to seriously harm or kill people, or to disable or destroy “critical infrastructure,” with the aim of forcing a policy change. This charge carries a maximum prison sentence of 35 years.

Officials in Georgia have argued that the defendants were involved in sowing disorder and destruction — actions that required a quick and strong response.

“We will not waver when it comes to protecting people, enforcing the rule of law and ensuring that those who engage in criminal activity are vigorously prosecuted and aggressively prosecuted,” said Christopher M. Carr, the attorney general of Georgia, in a statement.

Critics say the charges in Georgia vindicate their worst fears about domestic terrorism laws: that they could label activism as terrorism and allow prosecutors to impose even harsher penalties for “property crimes that were already illegal simply because of the associated political speech.” who are critical of the government. policy,” as the American Civil Liberties Union of Georgia said in a recent statement.

The result, critics argue, is that freedom of speech is suppressed.

“It’s chilling,” said Mr. Bilodeau, an engineering consultant. “It is a devastating threat to all people who are advocates or activists for the well-being of our planet, climate or communities.”

Legal experts have also expressed concern that many people are being prosecuted for serious crimes because of the actions of a few.

Mr. Bilodeau’s attorney, Amanda Clark Palmer, argued in a motion for bail that his arrest warrant “did not contain any specific allegation that Mr. Bilodeau himself possessed or threw a rock, fireworks or Molotov cocktail.”

“The only specific allegation,” she added, “is this: the suspect was observed wearing muddy clothing as he crossed the embankment. The suspect was also in possession of a shield.”

Officials in Georgia have insisted the charges were justified, with Atlanta police calling the suspects “violent agitators,” mostly from out of state, who committed violence “under the cover of a peaceful protest.”

The charges have not yet resulted in charges, in part because the local district attorney withdrew from the case, citing a “fundamental difference in prosecutorial philosophy” with Mr. Carr, the Republican attorney general.

But the allegations also formed the basis for a broader case that Mr. Carr’s office is pursuing under the state’s racketeering law — a powerful tool that prosecutors have used to target street gangs, officials accused of corruption and even former President Donald J. Trump. who is accused of conspiring to overturn his 2020 election loss.

Mr. Bilodeau and 60 others now face racketeering charges, with prosecutors describing them as part of “an anarchist, anti-police, anti-business extremist organization” that conspired to block the training center. The first trial in the racketeering case could begin in the coming weeks.

The Atlanta City Council voted to authorize in 2021 the training facility, officially called the Atlanta Public Safety Training Center and derided by protesters as “Cop City.”

The project mobilized a diverse coalition of opponents: environmentalists who objected to the development of a rare expanse of forest in a rapidly developing metropolitan area; social justice activists who believed the facility would train officers to become community police officers with militarized tactics; and local residents opposed a potentially disruptive new neighbor.

Opposition increased in 2022 when officers began sweeping the site. Protesters had set up camp in trees and set up barricades to block officers and construction crews. Some protesters threw Molotov cocktails and set off fireworks, police said. Officers responded with tear gas and rubber bullets, and in January 2023, a 26-year-old activist, Manuel Esteban Paez Terán, known as Tortuguita, was fatally shot by state forces.

Officials have said the activist fired first, wounding a soldier, but protesters remained skeptical, in part because the soldiers were not wearing body cameras.

Since then, more construction and police vehicles have been torched at the site. including recently as at the end of January. Construction companies in Georgia and beyond — including at least one falsely linked to the training center — have had equipment destroyed or burned, authorities said.

Last month, city officials said the destruction had increased the cost of the facility, estimated at $90 million, by nearly $20 million.

“These individuals are operating in fear,” says Georgia’s John F. King insurance and safety fire commissionersaid at a recent news conference announcing rewards of up to $200,000 for help finding and convicting arson suspects.

When Georgia lawmakers tightened the state’s domestic terrorism laws, it was partly in response to the 2015 racist massacre at a black church in Charleston, SC. domestic terrorists. Georgia lawmakers are currently considering a new measure to further strengthen the law.

Like Georgia, other states have taken steps to expand terrorism-related laws, reflecting an increasingly fractured political climate and fears of rising extremism. A bill in West Virginia would clarify the definitions of terrorism and create mandatory sentencing rules.

Last year, Oregon — where authorities have clashed with armed militias on public property, and where far-right protesters breached the state Capitol in 2021 — became the latest state to enact a domestic terrorism law.

Officials in Georgia have used the sweeping law to crack down on left-wing activism that, they allege, took a violent turn in Atlanta around the time of the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests.

One of the demands in the nationwide protests that followed the killing of George Floyd was to defund police departments and repurpose those resources. Cop City protesters see Atlanta doing the opposite with the training center, which officials are hailing as an investment in a police force struggling with depleted ranks and morale.

“We don’t need more police and a surveillance state,” said Ayla King, 19, a recent high school graduate from Worcester, Massachusetts, who traveled to Atlanta last March after following developments on social media. MX. King, who uses the pronoun they, faces both domestic terrorism and racketeering charges.

Mr. Bilodeau, who spent 17 days in jail after the confrontation last March, declined to talk about what he did in the woods in March, citing his upcoming trial. In charging documents, prosecutors accused him of criminal trespass and joining “an organized gang designed to overwhelm police,” occupy the forest and cause property damage.

He returned to a life in Boston turned upside down. His bank closed his accounts, he said. The youth arts and music program where he was a regular volunteer told him he was no longer welcome. His concerns about police seeped into his dreams, and he is wary of participating in any more protests.

“This has been a crushing emotional and legal process, and we are not really through it yet,” Mr. Bilodeau said.

MX. King had to put plans for the university aside.

“This is terrifying,” says Mx. King said this in an interview in December, before a gag order was issued in their case. “But it’s very important to stay strong and know that the fact that the state says I’m a domestic terrorist doesn’t really mean anything. It’s such a bloated load.’

Yet Mx. King has no illusions about the seriousness of the situation. In fact, they recently received a stark reminder of the stakes: They turned down a plea bargain offer of a 10-year sentence, including three years in prison.