One was Monica Bicking, a 24-year-old who once worked for a nonprofit run by Quakers. She now works as a nanny. Bicking, who has lived in Minneapolis most of her life, has been charged with conspiracy to commit riot and commit criminal damage to property.
Bicking is part of what has become known as the RNC 8, a group of young people accused of trying to create havoc and violence at the Republican National Convention in St. Paul last September. Charges that they committed the acts "in furtherance of terrorism" have been dropped, but as defendant Rob Czernik put it, once it has been on the Internet, you'll forever be an accused terrorist.
Their scheduled appearance in court today has been postponed, so they wait; doing odd jobs, holding rallies, speaking at peace forums, waiting to clear their names or go to prison. Either way, their young lives have veered in a direction none of them imagined.
"I wasn't surprised to go down to the jail," said Bicking, sitting in a basement office in St. Louis Park. "I assumed the charges would be dropped. We weren't doing anything illegal."
Ramsey County Sheriff Bob Fletcher begs to differ. He has said that those arrested were part of a massive attempt to prevent a lawful exercise of democracy. At least one member of the RNC 8 traveled to Texas to recruit two men who pleaded guilty to possession of Molotov cocktails. He said houses they used to organize in the Twin Cities held materials that could be used to disrupt the convention, from nails to buckets that contained urine -- items the defendants say are simply household goods police packaged as weapons.
"When you unite 800 activists and bring them here," you can't wash your hands of responsibility for their actions, said Fletcher, who says informants will show that the group planned violence.
Bicking, whose father was a Green Party candidate for Minneapolis City Council, talked about growing up with politically active parents and protesting the Iraq war in high school. "I was very mainstream at that point," she said. But when she knocked on doors in poor neighborhoods for Sen. John Kerry's presidential bid, people asked her, "Why should I vote?"
Bicking couldn't tell them. She, like the others, now consider themselves anarchists and have a deep distrust of government. Czernik, 33, is an "Army brat" and "child of the military industrial complex" who became involved in antiwar and environmental issues. Self-assured and well-spoken, Czernik wanted to make sure that their political message was not lost -- the current system is unjust for many, and authorities tried to squash legitimate dissent through bogus and improper surveillance. Czernik, who Fletcher said was a main organizer, does not regret his actions.
"As someone who's committed to this for life, a few years in jail is nothing" compared with the injustices others suffer in the world, Czernik said.
Max Specktor, 20, who Fletcher said was caught with caltrops to burst the tires of delegate buses, went to his first big protest in eighth grade and it "felt really cool," he said. Our meeting was in the office of his father, Mordecai Specktor, editor and publisher of the American Jewish World. Like his father, Max said he has found a more "nuanced" view of life, and said he hoped he showed people ''what it really means to be an anarchist."
All agreed they would use their case to continue to change the world in positive ways.
It was a nice afternoon, and sun filtered through the low windows. They were decent kids, from good families; earnest, smart and hard to dislike. They reminded me of some of my friends at that age, back when we were equally idealistic and naive. They also reminded me at times of people who bring weapons to town hall forums and scream down people with whom they disagree. "Nuanced" is a matter of perspective.
I asked Fletcher, a father with kids their age, whether he empathized at all with the protesters. He said he did.
"It's not at all unusual to see criminals with nice personalities," Fletcher said.
Circumstances in life, whether it be ideology, a need for money, or an opportunity for fraud often allow good people to justify bad behavior, he said. "But we are all encumbered by the impetus of having self-restraint."
After our meeting, Bicking and Czernik got into a small station wagon with a bike rack on the back, and drove down Lake Street behind me.
"Are you following me?" I asked at a stop light. "Now I know what it feels like."
"Tomorrow we'll kick down your door," yelled Czernik.
The anarchists laughed, then drove off into a very uncertain future.
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