printer-friendly version 

"The Beagle Brigade: A Law That Tells Animal Rights Activists to Heel," Legal Affairs, Sept.-Oct., 2004, 11-12.
By WILL POTTER
On a muggy Tuesday in June,seven
twenty-somethings who’d cancelled their
previous plans — taking the LSAT, working
the night shift at a convenience store — showed up to be arraigned at the federal
courthouse in Trenton, N.J.They came two
hours early, along with about 40 supporters
who lined the street with banners and
bullhorns. A police force of a dozen surrounded
the demonstrators with teargas
guns, rifles, and a dog at the ready.
The protesters were mostly young
women. They didn’t look terribly threatening,
with their thrift store court clothes
and handmade posters. But the cops said
they knew better. “This group has a history.
We want to be prepared,” said one.
When their lawyers prodded them, the
seven defendants put down their signs
and trooped inside,where each entered a
plea of not guilty. One of them, Lauren
Gazzola, said she hoped her rap sheet and
upcoming trial wouldn’t keep her out of law school. Another, Darius Fullmer, said
he’ll put in 14-hour days as a paramedic
this summer to bank time against the
days he expects to miss once the trial
starts in the fall.
The seven activists have the distinction
of being the first defendants charged with
violating the Animal Enterprise Protection
Act, because of the content of their
website and newsletter and because of
their protests. As members of Stop Huntingdon
Animal Cruelty, they’re accused of conspiring to shut down Huntingdon Life
Sciences, a New Jersey laboratory that
tests pesticides and suntan lotion on mice,
dogs,and primates.The SHAC Seven aren’t
the Chicago Seven, but each faces the possibility
of 23 years in prison.
Congress passed the Animal Enterprise
Protection Act in 1992 after fur, meat, and
animal research industries successfully
argued that they needed special protection
from vandalism and theft by such underground
groups as the Animal Liberation
Front, whose “long term aim is to end all
animal suffering by forcing animal abuse
companies out of business.” The act made
it a crime to cause “physical disruption” to an “animal enterprise” by stealing, damaging,
or causing loss of property. So far,
it’s been used to prosecute Justin Samuel,
a former University of Washington student
who was sentenced to two years in
prison in 2000 for freeing thousands of
minks from Wisconsin fur farms.
The SHAC defendants are a different
breed of activist. They pressure companies
to stop doing business with Huntingdon
Life Sciences by flooding executives
with phone calls and emails, and by leading
rowdy protests outside the executives'
homes. The group targeted HLS in
2001 after five undercover video investigations
by activists and journalists
showed one researcher dissecting a live
monkey and another punching a beagle
puppy in the face after he couldn’t fit a
needle into the dog’s tiny veins. (HLS doesn’t dispute the footage, but says it
has put a stop to such abuses.)
SHAC’s guerilla tactics have worked.
HLS has been delisted by the New York
Stock Exchange, and the company says
it’s near bankruptcy. Dozens of corporations,
including Marsh, Inc., the lab’s former
insurer, have cut ties with it.
The indictment against the defendants
takes a dim view of SHAC’s accomplishments.
It sternly describes, for example, “The attack on S. Inc.” — which SHAC is
happy to identify as Stephens Inc., an
investment bank in Little Rock, Ark., that
loaned the lab $35 million. The charge is
that SHAC “caused the website
www.stephenskills.com to be launched in order to apply pressure on S. Inc. to cease
doing business with HLS.” That pressure
included posting an anonymous report
announcing “that the home of WS, the
head of S. Inc.,was vandalized,” which, the
government argues, encouraged more
such vandalism.
The U.S. Attorney’s office says that
SHAC is waging a campaign of intimidation. “The government is arguing that
even if the individual acts are protected
speech, the acts combined amount to a
pattern of harassment and terrorism,” said Daniel Perez,who is helping Gazzola
with her case.
On their web site and in speeches, the
SHAC activists support some illegal tactics,
like committing vandalism and taking
animals out of labs. But they aren’t
charged with any of the crimes the website
postings describe. They plan to argue
that the postings are protected free speech
under the First Amendment.
The activists are right, as long as they’re
not posting targeted threats against specific
individuals,said Eugene Volokh,a law
professor at UCLA. In 2002, a federal
appeals court ruled that the First Amendment
did not protect a website called the
Nuremberg Files,which posted pictures of
doctors who performed abortions with
their names underneath the photos, and
crossed off the names of three of them as
they were killed. In the New Jersey case,
Volokh said, the government must prove
that the defendants made specific threats
against a particular executive,or that they
met and made an agreement with a group
such as the Animal Liberation Front to
publicize and support illegal actions.
If the government can make that connection,
then the activists will be
treated like the abortion foes, who
have been described as terrorists. If
not, they’re protected by the First
Amendment, as the civil rights
activist Charles Evers was when he
urged a Mississippi crowd to boycott
white businesses with the
words, “If we catch any of you
going in any of them racist stores,
we’re gonna break your damn neck.”
While the SHAC activists await trial,
attendance is up at protests. At a raucous
event in Monrovia, Calif., 30 demonstrators
loudly denounced one executive in the
streets around his home. When they were
sure the neighbors had heard them, they
left for a nearby music festival.