It Could Happen Here - The Forgotten History of the Old Atlanta Prison Farm: Part One

Episode Date: August 10, 2022

In this three part series, made in collaboration with the Atlanta Community Press, we dive into the lost and incomplete history of the Old Atlanta Prison Farm.  https://atlpresscollective.com/2021/08/14/history-of-the-atlanta-city-prison-farm/ https://atlsolidarity.orgSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

You should probably keep your lights on for Nocturnal Tales from the Shadowbride. Join me, Danny Trejo, and step into the flames of fright. An anthology podcast of modern-day horror stories inspired by the most terrifying legends and lore of Latin America. Listen to Nocturnal on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Curious about queer sexuality, cruising, and expanding your horizons?

Hit play on the sex-positive and deeply entertaining podcast Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Join hosts Gabe Gonzalez and Chris Patterson Rosso as they explore queer sex, cruising, relationships, and culture in the new iHeart podcast,

Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Sniffy's Cruising Confessions will broaden minds and help you pursue your true goals. You can listen to Sniffy's Cruising Confessions, sponsored by Gilead, now on the iHeartRadio app

or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Thursday. Hi, I'm Ed Zitron, host of the Better Offline podcast, and we're kicking off our second season digging into tech's elite and how they've turned Silicon Valley into a playground for billionaires. From the chaotic world of generative AI to the destruction of Google search, Better Offline is your unvarnished and at times unhinged look at the underbelly of tech brought to you by

an industry veteran with nothing to lose. Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, wherever else you get your podcasts from. The 2025 iHeart Podcast Awards are coming. This is the chance to nominate your podcast for the industry's biggest award. Submit your podcast for nomination now at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. But hurry, submissions close on December 8th. Hey, you've been doing all that talking. It's time to get rewarded for it. Submit your podcast today at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. That's iHeart.com slash podcast Welcome to It Could Happen Here, the podcast about stuff falling apart and how we can maybe

put some of it back together. Today, I'm your host, Garrison Davis. Though this episode is going to be more of an it did happen here sort of thing, as this is part one of a special three-part series made in collaboration with the Atlantic Community Press about the history of the old Atlanta prison farm. If you haven't listened to my supersized three-hour two-part series on the Defend the Atlanta Forest movement from last May, I'd recommend you check that out just for, you know, extra context, but it's not strictly necessary as we'll be mostly going over history for these next few episodes. Although I will sprinkle in updates about what's been happening in Atlanta related to the Stop Cop City movement throughout this series. At the end of this episode, there will be a summary about the most recent week

of action. Now, for this series, not only did the Atlantic Community Press provide the vast majority of the historical research and format for these episodes, I was also able to record with two members of the collective, Sam and Laura. So you'll hear snippets of our conversations over the course of these next few episodes as well. Last year, in the lead-up to the Atlanta City Council signing over hundreds of acres of forest to the Atlanta Police Foundation to build a state-of-the-art militarized police training facility, complete with a large mock city, police training facility, complete with a large mock city, around that same time, a group of people decided to look into the history of the land in question, famed for being the site of an old federal prison honor farm. This was also around the same time last year when more atrocities of

the residential school systems were being unearthed. And with the Atlanta Police Foundation's plans to bulldoze large sections of forest that were once used as an old labor prison, the possibility of disturbing forgotten grave sites seemed to be worth considering. Hi, I'm Sam. I help out with, I do research for the Atlanta Community Press Collective. help out with. I do research for the Atlantic Community Press Collective. So that means I file open records requests. I helped accidentally write a 17-page history report in the summer of 2021. And I listen to fun things like community stakeholders committee meetings and city council meetings. What is the inception for the Atlantic Community Press Collective? So at the beginning, it was me, Laura, and another friend of ours.

And we were all just kind of involved on the periphery of the movement. Laura, please feel free to correct me or direct me also. But just as part of the general movement and resistance to Cop City, one of us raised the question based on when the prison farm was in operation. One of us asked, I wonder if there are unmarked graves there, because given the era in which the prison farm was in operation, it's not unrealistic that people were just buried on site, especially poor prisoners who didn't have families to claim them, which is horrible, but there you go. That was sort of the genesis of our history report. And then I guess naturally as an extension

of that, we started asking questions of city government and county government about the, I guess, construction process of Cop City. Throughout the development of Cop City, concerns regarding environmental racism, police violence, and land stewardship in an era of climate change have all been discussed, if not by local government or the Atlanta Police Foundation, but at least by community members, some local press, and national media. Despite this, very little is actually publicly known about the actual history of the land that Atlanta Police Foundation wants to build Cop City on, and the history of the prison farm itself. The most often cited histories suggest that the land was the site of a federal prison

farm that was later taken over by the city and then soon abandoned. Archival research into the site on Key Road, conducted by volunteers with the Atlantic Community Press, tell a different story. Months of archival research reveal that not only was it never run federally, it was run as a city prison farm uninterrupted from about 1920 to the early 1990s, and doing considerable harm to those incarcerated throughout, despite claims of reform made at every stage. Through the gathering of old legal notices, old newspaper articles, letters from nurses, legislative and inspection records, and oral histories, a forgotten legacy of torture, overcrowding, slave conditions, quote-unquote, the lack of health care, labor

strikes, death, and unmarked paupers' graves have slowly been rediscovered through Atlanta's radical scene. And this just barely scratches the surface. As the Atlantic Community Press conducted their research, two conflicting surprises arose. One being that there was just so much available historical documentation that seemingly very few people had dug into and put together correctly in the past. And two, that there was so much information that was just missing entirely, records that were either just missing, destroyed, misfiled, or possibly were never kept in the first place. The nature of this kind of archival research is pulling on one question and then finding dozens more. With limited time and resources, you can find yourself with more

questions than definitive answers. These episodes are meant to just be a brief overview of the broad strokes of this history, while also serving as a survey of the possible directions that further research can take. Many people, including an individual on the Community Stakeholder Advisory Committee for the Atlanta Public Safety Training Center, aka COP City, have advocated that there must be responsible in-depth investigations into the history of this land and many of its current physical attributes before any further development could take place. Catherine Nichols already laid the groundwork for such research in her 2015 thesis on the unmarked graves and burial grounds of the Brandon Indian Residential School System and the history of what took place during its

operation. A three-pronged approach includes archival research, field research, and qualitative interviews with affected members of the community. This type of research will be discussed more in the third episode. However, this research would take time, and with construction and deforestation attempts proceeding at an increasing rate, the opportunity to do further on-the-ground historical research is quickly vanishing. The same policing institutions that caused so much harm are increasingly trying to physically bulldoze away centuries of history. We did not set out to write this report. We did not know literally when we started writing this that the Wooten Report and the Save the Old Atlanta Prison Farm campaigns proved an incorrect history. We didn't know there were two, more than two, frankly, prison farms.

No one's wrong for not knowing about this, but we've emailed this to city council repeatedly. Laura has. Laura has done amazing, tenacious work at just making sure that every single government official involved in this project knows exactly what kind of violence they're perpetuating. The cop city is bad enough on its own, but when you have an accurate historical understanding of not just what they are building, but where they are building it, it's beyond the pale. It's beyond belief. It's disgusting. They want to build this on stolen indigenous land. They want to build this on a slave plantation. Are you kidding me? What were we out in the streets for? What are people still out in the streets for? I know they know what we're

saying. I know they know who we are. I know they're listening. It's just disgusting. It's disgusting to me. Welcome. I'm Danny Thrill. Won't you join me at the fire and dare enter? Nocturnum, Tales from the Shadows, presented by iHeart and Sonorum. An anthology of modern day horror stories inspired by the legends of Latin America. From ghastly encounters with shapeshifters, to bone-chilling brushes with supernatural creatures. I know you. Take a trip and experience the horrors that have haunted Latin America since the beginning of time.

Listen to Nocturnal Tales from the Shadows as part of my Cultura podcast network, available on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. On Thanksgiving Day, 1999, a five-year-old boy floated alone in the ocean. He had lost his mother trying to reach Florida from Cuba. He looked like a little angel. I mean, he looked so fresh. And his name, Elian Gonzalez, will make headlines everywhere.

Elian Gonzalez. Elian, Elian. Elian Gonzalez. Elian. Elian. Elian Gonzalez. At the heart of the story is a young boy and the question of who he belongs with. His father in Cuba.

Mr. Gonzales wanted to go home and he wanted to take his son with him. Or his relatives in Miami. Imagine that your mother died trying to get you to freedom. At the heart of it all is still this painful family separation. Something that as a Cuban, I know all too well. Listen to Chess Feast, the Elian Gonzalez story, as part of the My Cultura podcast network, available on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, I'm Jacqueline Thomas, the host of a brand new Black Effect original series, Black Lit, the podcast for diving deep into the rich world of Black literature.

I'm Jack Peace Thomas, and I'm inviting you to join me and a vibrant community of literary enthusiasts dedicated to protecting and celebrating our stories. Black Lit is for the page turners, for those who listen to audiobooks while commuting or running errands, for those who find themselves seeking solace, wisdom, and refuge between the chapters. From thought-provoking novels to powerful poetry, we'll explore the stories that shape our culture. Together, we'll dissect classics and contemporary works while uncovering the stories of the brilliant writers behind them. Blacklit is here to amplify the voices of Black writers and to bring their words to life. Listen to Blacklit on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Curious about queer sexuality, cruising, and expanding your horizons?

Hit play on the sex-positive and deeply entertaining podcast Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Join hosts Gabe Gonzalez and Chris Patterson Rosso as they explore queer sex, cruising, relationships, and culture in the new iHeart podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Sniffy's Cruising Confessions will broaden minds and help you pursue your true goals. You can listen to Sniffy's Cruising Confessions,

sponsored by Gilead, now on the iHeartRadio app or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Thursday. Before we continue, let's talk a little bit about the idea of history. I think for a lot of people, especially white people, our engagement with history is often so distant. We keep ourselves othered, conceptualizing history as some abstract narrative. Instead of the direct flesh and blood we ourselves and our systemic relations grew out of. History should be the tales and songs of joy and sorrow and pain, generational wisdom and trauma told by the people who lived it, not just a list of names and the numerical record-keeping of the structures that caused ongoing suffering,

which still benefit from this abstraction. Preserving history for its own sake is all fine and good, Preserving history for its own sake is all fine and good, but doing preservation with an explicit ecological and intersectional drive can be much more insightful, not to mention respectful for those who it literally happened to in the past. This perspective argues for the preservation on the basis of its material effects on people, both past and present, and to demonstrate the direct continuity of control of these structures over the people they affect and the repeating patterns of rhetoric used to justify it. Similarly, Catherine Nichols points out in her residential school thesis that it's essential to view this type of history and these records within a full living

context. Obviously, a complete consideration of context is outside the small scope of this podcast and could probably make up multiple volumes of books. The time period we'll be diving into, roughly the 1920s to present day, has been home to an unceasing trend of the criminalization of many marginalized peoples, especially Black, Indigenous, poor, disabled, and mentally ill people, which we'll see demonstrated throughout the story told here and on into the present. This criminalization of marginalized peoples coincides with institutions of power engaging in what Lauren Berlant calls the slow death. The phrase slow death refers to the physical wearing out of a population and the deterioration of people in that population

that is very nearly a defining condition of their experience and historical existence. It's like a mass phenomenon of material and metaphysical restriction that typically already marginalized people face when living under capitalist or authoritative governing structures. The slow death manifests by intentionally and repeatedly subjugating people to events and conditions known to contribute to suffering, resulting in an early death of those deemed less valuable by capital interests, sometimes even at their own expense, other times for the sake of profit. All that gets passed down through generations with the corresponding generational trauma that becomes a defining feature of personal and cultural identity.

In the case of the prison farm, we see the slow death and living history in many forms. A swastika found in one of the bedrooms. White inmates going on strike shortly after the prison farm is racially integrated. Stokely Carmichael is held at the farm for several days on the charge of loitering at the height of the Civil Rights era. After Martin Luther King's assassination, donkeys from the prison farm pull his casket through town. Nurses beg for more tuberculosis tests for overcrowded prisoners. Homeless alcoholics are repeatedly cycled in and out of the system. All of these instances are similar to others,

both at the time and now in present day, and reflect the racial and class dynamics at the heart of the carceral system. and reflect the racial and class dynamics at the heart of the carceral system. These same socio-political forces continue to shape the social landscape of Atlanta, whether that be through the criminalization of Atlanta's water boys, black teenagers who sell ice cold drinks to motorists. We also see it in the ongoing eviction and housing crisis, the lack of resources in the midst of a pandemic, the continued cycling of homeless people through the prison system instead of providing humane housing,

the squashing of anti-state protests but allowance of white supremacist and anti-vax protests. All these highlight the further need for this history to be told by the people it affects, rather than the institutions responsible, which are already seeking to take hold and control the narrative surrounding this piece of land and their own history. The Police Foundation has announced its intention to build separate museums on the site dedicated to police officers, firefighters, and the labor prison that was once located there. The museum idea has been framed as a concession to last year's anti-cop city call-in campaigns, a concession that will result in land being paved over

and a sanitized, police-approved history to be built over top. The offending institutions like the Atlanta Police Department, the Atlanta Police Foundation, City Council and the Mayor's Office, and the media organizations which support them, try to pay lip service to the atrocities of the past as quickly as possible while retaining all of the power and then bulldozing over the forgotten history. As we'll discuss, vague gestures towards the harms of the past, without material accountability for the harm done, have been used throughout the prison farm's history to justify continued control of physical and narrative space, and is simply vapid virtue signaling.

of physical and narrative space, and is simply vapid virtue signaling. Now, before we deep dive into the prison farm itself, as a part of the intent to place the history in its full living context, it's necessary to state the land the prison farm was built on was a thriving trade hub for Native Americans throughout the continent. Every story that takes place in quote-unquote America has grown from genocide, colonialism, broken treaties, and the division of interconnected land into individual parcels for ownership. This is part of the history and needs to be reckoned with and fully reconciled before anyone can truly be free. That extensive history is outside the scope of this episode, but we are trying to get such topics discussed on this platform with more qualified people. The most frequently cited

history about this piece of land is a historical analysis of the Atlanta Prison Farm by Gillian Wooten of the City Planning Department, written in 1999. In it, we are told that the Key Road property was purchased in 1918 by the Bureau of Prisons and the United States Federal Government. It was called the Honor Farm, and federal prisoners grew crops and raised livestock to feed the population of the nearby federal penitentiary. The piece claims that the site operated until 1965, when it was then purchased by the Atlanta city government and shut down soon after, at which point the history becomes murky, as a single report of a labor strike on the land seems to contradict claims of the 1960s closing. If you just google old Atlanta prison farm, there's two things that are going to come up. There's a campaign called Save the Old Atlanta Prison Farm. And this website tells you the story of how in the early to mid 20th century,

the federal government operated a prison farm in Atlanta. And then sometime in the 50s, the city of Atlanta took it over. And it links to a document written in 1999 by a person named Jillian Wooten, who I think was probably doing the best she could in 1999, given the difficulty we had in researching this in 2021. And what this commonly cited history of the Save the Old and the Prison Farm campaign and this more official report written by Jillian Wooten tell you is, again, that sometime in the 50s, the city bought this prison farm territory. We found nothing to support that. If our initial question was, where are the graves?

Where are the bodies buried? The question we ended up asking was, well, when did the city take over the prison farm from the federal government? And we kept going back and back and back further into historical record until we eventually got to around 1911 when the city itself bought the property that would become cop city and operated their own prison farm in long story short the conclusion we came to was the federal prison farm was a completely separate property, a completely separate prison system. And sometime, even though this prison farm really only shut down sometime around the early 1990s, in the course of just a few decades, we've forgotten the story of the people who were incarcerated there and the story of the prison farm to the point where we don't even understand that it was its own thing, which is, it's, it just makes me angry.

Like every abuse possible you can imagine happened at the prison farm and we can't even, we've just completed it with another prison farm where horrible things happened. Like that's how poor custodians have been of this history. A lot of people don't know that there were actually three prison farms running. All in Atlanta, essentially. Technically, two of them are in DeKalb. There was the U.S. Prison Farm No. 1, federally run. That's the one that most people know now as an apartment complex. Sorry, I don't remember it off the top of my head. Then there's number two, which is what people know as the quote unquote honor farm out near Panthersville. Then we have the city of Atlanta prison farm. So there are three running at the exact same time, all within a fairly short distance from each other. This isn't something that was unique to Georgia by any means, but the history of it is largely ignored.

Convict lease labor was incredibly common. convict lease labor was incredibly common. The Archive of Atlanta, sorry, did a podcast specifically on the convict lease labor that was done to build the Atlanta streets. Basically, every street in Atlanta was built by convict lease labor. And a lot of that labor came from the Atlanta prison farm, as well as some of the other prison farms around. There's also the Chattahoochee Brickworks Company that was recently turned into a public park. And it was historically acknowledged by our mayor, Mayor Dickens, for its horrific atrocities of slave labor for building or creating these bricks at the company where many people died. So there's just this hypocrisy of, hey, we're using slave labor at this location and it is horrific and we are going to acknowledge that and we are going to put a plaque out there and do a ribbon cutting ceremony and truly acknowledge this atrocity.

Whereas here, because they want the land, they're're going to utilize some marble library stones in our propaganda entrance to the horse barracks. That's pretty much what they're going to do. The Atlantic Community Press research found that the Wooten History Report actually conflates three different properties. Property number one, a prison farm on the property of the federal penitentiary, where the penitentiary still exists today. Another property, number two, was a second prison farm on Panthersville Road that was purchased from farmers in 1920 and was used to supplement the production of the first federal prison farm. But the third property, and the one that we're focused on here today, is the one on Key Road in unincorporated DeKalb County. This one was only ever owned and operated by the city

government and was used to produce food for city prisons. It operated from 1920 up until the early 90s before shutting down and being abandoned and then used as a dumping ground for the city, until now where they have plans to turn it into a militarized police training facility. After serving as a slave plantation, the Key Road property operated as a municipal dairy farm. But accusations that the farm was losing the city money, coupled with the ongoing scandals at the city jail stockade in Glenwood, opened up debates within the city government, ranging from 1915 to 1920, about closing the old stockade and moving prisoners to the municipal

dairy farm. The stockade was overcrowded and unprofitable, and expanding it would cost the city too much money. Meanwhile, the area it was in was developing quickly, and quote, filling up with small property owners, and the presence of the stockade is a hindrance to further development, unquote. They proposed building a park, or a golf course, or a school, or all three on the land to cater to new residents. Atlantic Constitution piece that examined Atlanta Humane Society claims of women stockade prisoners being tied to a chair known as the bucking chair and whipped with a strap for disobedience. He at first denied these claims, saying that white women at the stockade were never whipped to his knowledge, and, quote, Negro women only seldom sew, unquote. An investigation apparently disproved this, and he was ordered to stop the corporal punishment, which he argued was both good and necessary, and should not be stopped because changing the course would be an admission of having done something wrong.

He argued that work-shy prisoners would need to be motivated somehow. So, by the end of January 1920, Atlanta City Council passed a law banning whippings and offering a new form of punishment instead, quote, solitary confinement on a diet of bread and water, unquote. Complaints of the stockade losing money continued into April 1920, and T.B. Langford suggested moving the whole operation to the dairy farm, which he also controlled. Conveniently, Prohibition had started earlier that year, so it was suggested

that the city could save a lot of money by making a new influx of prisoners work the city dairy. Moving prisoners to the dairy farm had one problem. It was not legal to build prison facilities on land outside city limits, and the Key Road property was located in unincorporated DeKalb County, despite being owned by the city of Atlanta. This problem was easily solved by city council, who simply passed a bill making it legal to build city prison facilities on land outside the city, even outside of Fulton County. By November, the proposal to close the stockade and move the prisoners to the dairy farm was agreed upon, and from that point forward, the Key Road Municipal Dairy Farm became the Atlanta City Prison and Dairy Farm,

later simplified to the Atlanta City Prison Farm. By 1925, council members were being praised for bringing in the, quote, largest number of prisoners at any one time in the past 10 years, saving the city $20 a day on the cost of feeding prisoners and increasing dairy production by 250 gallons a week, unquote. It was seen as a win-win-win for the new property owners, city government, and police. But it was a huge loss for the most vulnerable citizens of the city, and for the residents of the surrounding DeKalb County area, who had no way of consenting to this deal. Just like how modern-day DeKalb County residents have no say whatsoever in atlanta's goals of building a militarized police training compound with a gun range and explosives testing section in what would formerly be their forested backyard i mean building cop city here is just a continuation

of the violence that has been done to this land since the earliest, since time immemorial. Like this was, this was, first of all, this was stolen Muscogee land. Then it was a plantation. Then it was a prison farm, which is just an extension of being a plantation. When it stopped being a prison farm and just started being mostly a prison, horrible, horrible things were done to people in the solitary confinement cells. This mostly happened in the 80s. Then the prison and the farming stopped.

It just became a commercial dumping ground in an area of the city that already has some of the worst water quality and air quality standards in the whole metro area. The South River Forest Coalition and the South River Watershed Alliance are the best sources for that. But this was stolen land from the beginning. At the start, the story was stolen land. And then, like, I guess the last historical record is social and environmental injustice and now you want to give it to the police in this day and age i guess you could say like it's just compounding violence

upon violence upon violence welcome i'm danny thrill won't you join me at the fire and dare enter Nocturnum, Tales from the Shadows, presented by iHeart and Sonora. An anthology of modern-day horror stories inspired by the legends of Latin America. From ghastly encounters with shapeshifters to bone-chilling brushes with supernatural creatures. I know you.

Take a trip and experience the horrors that have haunted Latin America since the beginning of time. haunted Latin America since the beginning of time. Listen to Nocturnal Tales from the Shadows as part of my Cultura podcast network, available on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. On Thanksgiving Day, 1999, a five-year-old boy floated alone in the ocean. He had lost his mother trying to reach Florida from Cuba. He looked like a little angel. I mean, he looked so fresh. And his name, Elian Gonzalez, will make headlines everywhere.

Elian Gonzalez. Elian Gonzalez. Elian. Elian. Elian Gonzalez. Elian Gonzalez. Elian. Elian.

Elian. Elian. Elian. Elian Gonzalez. At the heart of the story is a young boy and the question of who he belongs with. His father in Cuba. Mr. Gonzalez wanted to go home and he wanted to take his son with him. Or his relatives in Miami. Imagine that your mother died trying to get you to freedom.

At the heart of it all is still this painful family separation. Something that as a Cuban, I know all too well. Listen to Chess Peace, the Elian Gonzalez story, as part of the My Cultura podcast network, available on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, I'm Jacqueline Thomas, the host of a brand new Black Effect original series, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. literary enthusiasts dedicated to protecting and celebrating our stories. Black Lit is for the page turners,

for those who listen to audiobooks while commuting or running errands, for those who find themselves seeking solace, wisdom, and refuge between the chapters. From thought-provoking novels to powerful poetry, we'll explore the stories that shape our culture. Together, we'll dissect classics and contemporary works while uncovering the stories of the brilliant writers behind them. Black Lit is here to amplify the voices of Black writers and to bring their words to life. Listen to Black Lit on the iHeartRadio app,

Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Curious about queer sexuality, cruising, and expanding your horizons? Hit play on the sex-positive and deeply entertaining podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Join hosts Gabe Gonzalez and Chris Patterson Rosso as they explore queer sex, cruising, relationships, and culture in the new iHeart podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Sniffy's Cruising Confessions will broaden minds

and help you pursue your true goals. You can listen to Sniffy's Cruising Confessions will broaden minds and help you pursue your true goals. You can listen to Sniffy's Cruising Confessions, sponsored by Gilead, now on the iHeartRadio app or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Thursday. Okay, now it's time for the update that I promised on the week of action that recently took place in Atlanta. So, near the end of this past July, from the 23rd to the 30th, there was another week of action as a part of the movement to defend the Atlanta forest and stop Cop City. Before things even kicked off, Ryan Millsap of Black Hole Movie Studios, just days before the July Week of Action, put up concrete barricades around the section of forest that currently

operates as a public park that protests had previously gathered in. He later made an appearance alongside some bulldozers in Entrenchment Creek Park, where then said bulldozers seemingly accidentally, question mark, damaged a park gazebo. So great work, Ryan. We just wrapped up our week of action. Obviously, we did a whole bunch of really awesome events, writers' workshops. We had multiple music festivals, daily meetings medic trainings we did narcan

training and distribution daily meals i personally um had the fortune to attend a talk by john lash who was incarcerated at what is now called metro re-entry center but at the time was called metro state prison which is just across the street from the south end of the child prison that's on the south end of the prison farm property. This was the most well-attended week of action there has been so far, especially on the first Saturday with the first music festival. As folks leaving, like people not at all affiliated with the forest movement beforehand were like heard about the music, like this cool music festival in the woods.

They were brought in by the music festival, but then we were able to educate them on the fight to defend this forest in their neighborhood, which is like, that is the goal. That was an amazing experience. that is the goal. That was an amazing experience. There were three different instances of arrests during this most recent week of action. On July 28th in Cobb County, on the north end of the metro Atlanta area, four people were arrested at a noise demo outside of a contractor's residence. Police scanner audio has cops discussing charges for the people who were standing outside on public property to include criminal trespass.

And also discussed was, quote, with the eco-terrorists happening in the county, possible domestic terrorist charges, unquote. There'll be criminal trespass. I guess I will be calm. With the eco there called a negative on domestic terrorism. This was not the first instance of law enforcement referring to defend the Atlanta Forest protesters as eco-terrorists. On July 26th, six people were arrested near the ruins of the old prison farm for criminal trespassing, seemingly just for hanging out in the prison farm area, which has been a well-known urban exploration hangout spot for decades.

These people were just taken to jail for being there. In the bail hearing, the judge said that he didn't even know why they got arrested. They were soon released with signature bonds for all. why they got arrested. They were soon released with signature bonds for all. And then on Friday, July 29th, seven people were arrested at a noise demo at a Brassfield and Gorey construction site. Currently, Brassfield and Gorey is the lead contractor for the Cop City project. The site was on Georgia State University property, though Atlanta Police Department responded as well. Unicorn riot footage shows people making a loop through the building and chanting before a construction worker aggressively shoves one protester out of the doorway. Here's some police

scanner audio. Unit three, they're saying that no one's in the building now, protester-wise, but they were inside the building. So they all need to be ID'd and CT'd. Lucy, can you advise on a number? Approximately 15. 7-349. Go ahead. If you still got eyes on the people walking away, can you snap some pictures?

I'm on the way up there in case they're gone before I hit them. They're inside the building. So, I mean, that's around for CTs. So we can stop instead of just taking pictures. I'm on the way up there in case they're gone before I hit that. They're inside the building. So, I mean, that's around for CTs. So we can stop and just take pictures. Unit three, that's affirmative. But we can stop and just say, please copy. APD Homeland and Zone 3 is in route to provide support at that location. Coming up on the location now. Atlanta police stated that no property damage was done beyond a bucket being kicked, and yet seven people are facing a slate of felony charges.

the problem with that, but they walked in and kicked over a bucket. But that was it. But nothing's done. I hope they kicked the bucket. Thank you, sir. One person was hospitalized due to broken ribs sustained during their arrest. For the first nine hours after the arrests, police refused to give jail support the location or contact info for where the arrestees were being sent. The following Tuesday night, everyone was finally released on posted bond. And with that, that wraps up part one of the three-part series for the history of the old Atlanta prison farm. Before I close out, I do want to plug the Atlanta Solidarity Fund at atlsolidarity.org. That helps protesters with bail and legal stuff, so donate to that if you have the means. Also, in the description, I'm going to leave that link. Also, the link for the Atlanta Community Press history report that they published last year,

that will also be in the description below. Thanks for listening. Check out Atlanta Community Press on Twitter or their website. See you on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can find sources for It Could Happen Here updated monthly at coolzonemedia.com slash sources. Thanks for listening. You should probably keep your lights on for Nocturnal Tales from the Shadow. Tales from the Shadow. Join me, Danny Trails, and step into the flames of fright.

An anthology podcast of modern-day horror stories inspired by the most terrifying legends and lore of Latin America. Listen to Nocturnal on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Curious about queer sexuality, cruising, and expanding your horizons? Hit play on the sex-positive and deeply entertaining podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Join hosts Gabe Gonzalez and Chris Patterson Rosso as they explore queer sex, cruising, relationships, and culture in the new iHeart podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Sniffy's Cruising Confessions will broaden minds

and help you pursue your true goals. You can listen to Sniffy's Cruising Confessions, sponsored by Gilead, now on the iHeartRadio app or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Thursday. Welcome to Gracias Come Again, a podcast by Honey German, where we get real and dive straight into todo lo actual y viral.

We're talking música, los premios, el chisme, and all things trending in my cultura. I'm bringing you all the latest happening in our entertainment world and some fun and impactful interviews with your favorite Latin artists, comedians, actors, and influencers. Each week we get deep and raw life stories, combos on the issues that matter to us, and it's all packed with gems, fun, straight-up comedia, and that's a song that only nuestra gente can sprinkle. Listen to Gracias Come Again on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. The 2025 iHeart Podcast Awards are coming.

This is the chance to nominate your podcast for the industry's biggest award. Submit your podcast for nomination now at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. But hurry, submissions close on December 8th. Hey, you've been doing all that talking. It's time to get rewarded for it. Submit your podcast today at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. That's iHeart.com slash podcast awards.