The beagle with the serial code YPP5 seared into his ear burst through the broken window into a bright new world on March 15, 2026.

Moments earlier, my friend Austin had taken this sad-eyed puppy from a cage at Ridglan Farms and thrust him into my hands through a window. YPP5 was trembling. The rush of new sights and sounds—the mass of people in white Tyvek suits, the crack of thunder in the sky—must have been a terrifying experience. I carried him to a member of our rescue team.

“He’s yours. Keep him safe,” I said with one look. And then I went back for more.

The right to rescue is being featured on Radiolab. It’s the dramatic account of how 8 jurors in southern Utah, presented with paper cut-outs of piglets, and banned from hearing the words “animal welfare,” nonetheless sided with rescuers over an abusive industry. Give it a listen!

But before I could take another dog, the police arrived and put me in handcuffs. I watched as they converged on rescuers all around me. My heart sank. Was YPP5 seized by the police? Was he back in a Ridglan cage, destined for surgical mutilation or death?

Would he ever get a hug or see the sun again? Would YPP5 ever get a real name?

I thought of that moment this week as felony burglary charges were formally brought against me and three other rescuers. The government wants to teach us a lesson: it’s not worth it.

What the authorities don’t appreciate is that the repression will backfire. Because the repression is merely highlighting that it is worth it. The public recognizes that abused animals are not “things” but sentient beings with inherent value. And when state repression forces our society to answer the question—what is an animal worth?—the people are siding with us.

This debate is unfolding in criminal trials. This week’s Radiolab episode chronicles how jurors responded to felony burglary charges filed against me for rescuing two injured piglets from the largest pig factory farm in the world. When the prosecutors compared the piglets to dented cans to explain why you cannot steal damaged goods, the jurors revolted and acquitted me.

Another example: on Thursday, a Court of Appeals reversed my felony conviction in California for rescuing 38 distressed hens from an abusive factory farm in Sonoma County. The authorities are trying to force people to accept that animals are things, but we are beating them in court.

The debate is also unfolding in our other institutions. In the past few weeks, multiple legislators and institutions—including Rep. Mark Pocan, who represents the district including Ridglan Farms—have been asked by Ridglan to protect their property and shut down the protests. But Pocan refused the request and joined the activists instead. “Shut. Them. Down,” he wrote on social media.

The New Yorker’s Jay Kang wrote that this rapid institutional change is “a case study in effective activism” driven by “a lot of people willing and ready to go to jail through putting their bodies on the line.” It’s hard to be against grandmas brave enough to face off against police violence.

But the most important place this debate is unfolding is in the animal movement itself. Animal advocacy has existed for millennia, going back to ancient Greek philosophers such as Plutarch, who compared the slaughter of animals to the slaughter of human beings. But for those same millennia, no one has really listened to us.

“Yes, animal cruelty is not great,” the authorities say. “But it’s not that big of a deal.”

But it is that big of a deal. The average experience of a land animal on Earth is that of a tortured creature trapped in a cage. What is happening to YPP5, and other animals, is an emergency. A crime. An atrocity. And we now have people stepping up to show this.

In 2017, when we first started campaigning at Ridglan, we had 6 rescuers willing to risk arrest to save a blind beagle puppy. We got some attention and support, but the Ridglan dogs remained trapped in cages.

In 2026, we went from 6 rescuers to 1,000. And these rescuers risked not just arrest but brutal police violence. And we didn’t just get exponentially more attention. We got the dogs out.1

The Harvard scholar Joseph Henrich has noted the importance of this sort of risk-taking in changing culture. It’s hard to get anyone to pay attention, much less change, if we don’t put our money where our mouth is. But when people start doing this in large numbers—what Henrich calls a “credibility-enhancing display”—things can rapidly change. If people continue to risk everything for the animals, even the authorities will be forced to see them, not as “things,” but as sentient beings.

That includes YPP5. In one of my first calls upon getting out of jail, a member of the rescue team gave me the good news.

“We’ve got him. He’s safe.”

The fight isn’t over. I and my co-defendants face up to 12 years in prison at a trial that will unfold in the next few months. More importantly, there are 40,000 other dogs across the nation still trapped and awaiting torture or death in laboratory cages. More people will need to step up if we’re going to save them.

But it’s worth it. YPP5 is worth it. Because he is not a serial code. He is James. And yesterday, James flew to his new forever home with me, my wife Rose, and our other little boy Oliver. James is family. So too are the other animals of this earth. And we will risk everything to rescue them.

Let them try to imprison us for protecting our families. It will only prove that, when we say the animals must be freed, we mean what we say.

Other stuff

1. The California Court of Appeal has reversed my felony conviction and acknowledged the necessity defense for animals. I am grateful to Prof. Justin Marceau at the University of Denver, who argued my appeal, and the numerous other scholars and lawyers across the nation who supported the case. This includes one of my former professors, Martha Nussbaum at the University of Chicago Law School, and Kristen Stilt, a leading scholar of animal law at Harvard. The deep irony is that the authorities in Dane County are making the same mistake that they made in Sonoma County in my California conviction: asserting that animals are mere things.

2. We need to sustain this whirlwind moment. I’ve written numerous times in recent years about the power of these moments. But among the most important lessons from history is that it’s not enough to harness the moment. We have to sustain its power. I call this the Day 2 Problem, i.e., after you win on Day 1, what do you do on Day 2? I’ll be sharing how we can answer this question later this week.

3. I’ll be speaking about the Ridglan rescue at the Grassroots Animal Rights Summit on May 17 in Washington, DC. This will be our first opportunity to gather with other activists and plan our next move. Don’t miss it!

Something happened in the last 24 hours that should give every animal trapped in a cage hope for the future.

I don’t mean the breaking news that came out yesterday, though it brought tears to my eyes. (I’ll have more to say about that in the weeks to come.)

I don’t mean the beginning of my trial for the rescue of dogs from Ridglan, though that could establish a ground-breaking precedent.

We’re holding a Zoom meeting tonight to discuss the events of the last 24 hours—and our plans to seize this movement to end all experiments on dogs. RSVP here!

What I mean is that a true grassroots political movement is bursting to life. Vox’s journalist Marina Bolotnikova put it best when she described recent events as “a bold and bruising experiment in broadening the movement’s tent beyond the already converted, and carrying animal rights forward into the realm of mass politics.”

What are the signs that this “bold and bruising” experiment is working? The renowned social movement scholar Charles Tilly coined the acronym WUNC to describe the characteristics of social movements that are able to create change. Worthy. Unified. Numerous. Committed.

And what we have seen, in the last 24 hours, is a movement that is showing that it is WUNC.

In the face of shocking police violence, we have maintained the moral high ground. At my hearing yesterday, Karen, a senior citizen who uses a walker, described her pride at participating nonviolently in the April 18 action. “We’re here for the dogs,” she told me. Karen, with the quiet dignity of an elder in our community, showed that we are worthy.

Even as the industry tries to divide us—supported by unfortunate factions within the animal movement itself—the Ridglan response has been a powerful coalition effort. Animal advocates from across the nation, from radical organizations like PETA to relatively conservative groups like Big Dog Ranch Rescue to wonk-ish effective altruists at Coefficient Giving, came together to support saving the dogs. I’ve never seen unity like this in the movement.

And then there were the numbers. At a typical protest, grassroots organizers struggle to get a 10 people to attend. The Ridglan campaign recruited over 1,000. Numbers like this give us real power.

Finally, there is what happened in court today. But I don’t mean with the lawyers and the judge, but with the people who showed up to support. The overflowing courtroom was filled with supporters. Most of them joined the defense of the pups on April 18. The government accused us of violence. It attempted to scare us with tear gas and rubber bullets. But not only did everyone still show up in court; they wanted to do it all again.

“I’ll be there next time,” Karen, the elderly woman with the walker, told me outside of court. “We will do it all again.”

Commitment like this is how the world changes.

Over the last few months, I have been traveling around the world revisiting a thesis I first offered to the movement 10 years ago. Animal liberation—the end to all commercial exploitation of non-human beings—will happen in one generation, I argued back in 2016.

The last few days have strengthened that argument. We are worthy. We are unified. We are numerous. And, above all, we are committed.

As my friend and fellow organizer Aidan Kankyoku put it, we got our asses kicked. And it worked.

This changes everything. A movement with this scale and commitment cannot be stopped. And even as our battles continue—in court and in the next open rescue—we should have not just hope but confidence. Soon, every animal will be free.

Some other things

• The Dane County court found probable cause in my preliminary hearing yesterday—but removed the court order banning me from Dane County. The hearing had far more fireworks and objections than a typical hearing of this sort. Prosecutor Matthew Moeser aggressively objected to every question about animal cruelty; the court commissioner sustained the objections. Unluckily, we drew the same court commissioner in this hearing, Brian Asmus, as we saw at the bail hearing. He was no more sympathetic this time, though my attorneys (Chris Carraway and Kristen Schrank) made a strong case for the defense. Ultimately, while the court found probable cause for a felony and refused to lift my no contact order, it did lift my ban on being present in Dane County. This was the most constitutionally indefensible portion of the prior order, but we will continue the fight against the other restrictions in the weeks to come.

• We’re publishing a report on the lessons from April 18. This past Sunday, we had a long debrief session with all rescuers who participated on March 15 or April 18. We are now releasing a report based on an analysis of that feedback. Check it out here—and leave a comment.

• Some tremendous things have been written about the Ridglan campaign. Marina Bolotnikova wrote the most vivid description of the events on April 18, as a personal witness to the police brutality. Aidan Kankyoku has written what I hope will be the first of many blogs analyzing the impact of the campaign.

• There’s so much more to do, so I hope you’ll join us tonight. Even as the fight against Ridglan may be nearing its end, the fight for dogs and other animals facing torture in labs is moving on to the next step. We’ll be discussing the last day’s news, and how we can sustain and grow this momentum, at the call tonight. RSVP here to get the Zoom link!

On April 18, I held my friend Aditya’s shoulder as he blindly navigated our jail cell. He had been assaulted by police, gassed, and blinded by pepper spray.

Three days later, a Wisconsin court ordered me not to speak with him. I was indefinitely banned from any contact with Aditya and three other people I love—rescuers who’ve risked everything to save beagles from criminal abuse. Our support for one another, apparently, is seen as a bigger threat by the local authorities than the torture of dogs at Ridglan Farms.

It all happened at my bail hearing last Tuesday. Court Commissioner Brian Asmus set the conditions of my release after I was arrested on April 18. The bail amount was so high, $20,000, that even a jail officer expressed shock afterwards. (“Damn! I’ve never seen that for burglary.”) Accused pedophiles and other violent criminals were given bail amounts that were thousands of dollars less.

JOIN THE COURT HEARING TODAY: I’ll be in court today (April 29, 3 pm CT) to face the government’s evidence for the first time and challenge the unconstitutional conditions of my bail. You can find details to join us by livestream or in person here.

But what came next was even more cruel.

“Defendant shall not have any contact, direct or indirect, with Aditya A., Michelle L. [Misha], Melany B., or Dean W.”

These are all people I love.

Aditya is a gentle soul, someone whose Buddhist training shines through in the peacefulness of every one of his words and actions. His dive through a window at Ridglan Farms on March 15, a last-ditch effort to save one more dog, showed the world that true peace is an active force.

Misha is built from the stuff of courage. In our trainings, Misha stood out as someone who would throw their body between a bully and a rescuer, protecting friends from violence.

Melany is a former beauty queen whose compassionate spirit is more stunning than anything one might see at a pageant. In the weeks prior to April 18, she stood outside of Ridglan with her prayers and her camera, even as men threatened to shoot her.

And then Dean, the one whose commitment I know best. Dean was an anxious and soft-spoken college student at UC Berkeley when I met him 10 years ago. But even then, I saw the spark in him, a fierce compassion. That spark has transformed into a supernova. Dean was last seen leaping on hay bales on April 18, as tear gas canisters and rubber bullets whizzed all around him, to rally the spirits of the rescuers.

“Tear gas! Pepper spray! It’s ok!” Dean shouted into a megaphone. And it was—because his courage steeled all those around him.

These four, and so many others, represent what I love most about humanity: courage and compassion. And these four suffered the worst of the state violence on April 18. When Aditya arrived in my jail cell, after being beaten and tear gassed, I had to hold his shoulder and guide him to his bunk bed. He was still blind—with eyes stinging and swollen—from the pepper spray.

Now Aditya and my friends face over 12 years in prison, charged with burglary for our attempt to save the Ridglan dogs. And there is nothing in the world, in this moment, that I want more than to protect my friends.

And the government has taken that away.

In a constitutionally indefensible order, Commissioner Asmus, a former prosecutor who apparently worked under District Attorney Ismael Ozanne, ruled that he would ban us from any contact with one another to “protect members of the community from serious harm.” This was deeply ironic, given that the defendants themselves had just experienced “serious harm”—beatings and terroristic threats—at the hands of Ridglan and the police. (One rescuer on April 18 was beaten and kicked in the face, knocking out two of his teeth and leaving him unconscious on the ground for around 14 minutes. No officer rendered aid, as they are required by law.)

Commissioner Asmus also banned each of us from going near Ridglan—and from the entirety of Dane County. The Dane County ban can only be interpreted as a direct attack on the First Amendment. The only “unlawful conduct” I am alleged to have engaged in within Dane County, where the state’s Capitol is seated, is petitioning the government to enforce the law and protect the dogs.

A criminal law professor I sent the order to was so flabbergasted that he laughed out loud. (“That is absurd,” he said. “These are supposed to be narrowly-tailored.”) Yesterday, our lawyers filed a motion challenging its constitutionality. But this is simply the latest example of lawlessness in Dane County by the authorities. And it is all directed at one purpose: a war on love.

The county government is attacking the friendships among rescuers, not because of any laws broken, but because our friendship targets a powerful industry in Wisconsin.

It assaulted grandmothers holding flowers because it saw their compassion for dogs as a threat to local business interests.

And it has prioritized the prosecution of animal rescuers, while falsely claiming Ridglan is above the law, because it believes love is a greater danger than cruelty.

And in a sense, it is right about this. The love of the rescuers on April 18 is a threat—to the alliance between government and business interests. The assault inflicted on nonviolent rescuers shows how far the legal system will bend towards those with wealth and power, even when they inflict unspeakable cruelty on those who are innocent. The system is bending so far, revealing corruption so deep, that it is on the verge of breaking. Trust in government has fallen off a cliff precisely because of cases like this.

But here is the most important point: love will win. So long as we tell the story of what is happening in court, and at Ridglan Farms, the nation will side with us—and tear down the government’s alliance with corporate interests. I saw this even in the officers arresting me on April 18.

“How do you feel about what’s happening at Ridglan?” I asked. “How do you feel about what’s happening to the dogs?”

The officers were nervous and uncertain, unwilling to look me in the eye or even say a word in response. They knew they were waging a war on love. And they knew that, in the eyes of the public, they could never win.

So let the authorities bring their war on love today in court. Let them try to tear apart our friendships. Let them beat us for our compassion. And, above all, let them try to imprison us for bringing frightened beagles to loving homes.

It is a fight we are more than willing to have. Because in the long run, love will win.

There is still hope for the Ridglan dogs.

While direct action did not get the dogs out, it has left us in a stronger position than we’ve ever been. There is unprecedented attention focused on Ridglan and experiments on dogs. CNN, the New York Times, Democracy Now, AP, and Fox News all covered the rescue effort on April 18. Google Trends shows a massive uptick in search traffic for Ridglan—more than 2x the traffic of the original rescue mission on March 15. The spotlight is on the abuses at Ridglan, which gives us a crucial opportunity to get the dogs out.

To seize this moment, however, we’ll need not just attention but strategy. And the clock is ticking. By July 1, Ridglan will likely sell or move all of its dogs. For that reason, I’ve put together three proposals for us to continue the campaign—and a survey for you to vote on which proposal excites you most.

Vote on the three proposals here.

Approach 1: Culture and Storytelling

We will harness the backlash against police brutality to get 1,000 of the most influential people in the world to take a public stand against Ridglan Farms—and create unstoppable cultural momentum to free the dogs. The rescue efforts on March 15 and April 18 already inspired support from influencers like comedian Ricky Gervais, director James Gunn, and podcaster Jennifer Welch. Using the stories of rescuers who bravely fought off tear gas and rubber bullets, we will supercharge this effort and make Ridglan—and the abuse of dogs in labs—a subject of everyday concern. We will compile a list of 2,000 influential people; organize our activists into teams of 10 which are each tasked with reaching out to 10 of them; then use every lawsuit, court date, and individual story of heroism in the face of police brutality to persuade 1,000 of those influencers to take a public stand. Every statement by an influencer will be celebrated and posted to savethedogs.io, blown up on social media, and leveraged to push politicians, customers, and even Ridglan itself to free the dogs.

Approach 2: Key Decisionmakers and Institutions

We will use every tool of nonviolent protest to seize the attention of Gov. Tony Evers, Attorney General Josh Kaul, HHS Secretary RFK Jr., and President Donald J. Trump—and pressure them to save the dogs. We will bombard their offices with emails and phone calls from grandmas who were brutalized. We will swarm their social media with photos of beagles in labs. And we will meet them at every public event and beg, plead, or even compassionately disrupt their events to bring attention to the Ridglan dogs. We will split up into regional teams that will identify key leverage points in each region: a congressional ally in Michigan, an upcoming visit to Florida, or even just a sympathetic journalist in the local paper. We will use this leverage to provoke reactions from powerful people, then celebrate every reaction—such as Gov. Evers’ recent statement that he can’t “wave a magic wand”—on savethedogs.io to ratchet up the pressure. When Evers says he doesn’t have a wand, for example, 100 of us will show up at his next event in Harry Potter costumes and offer him ours.

Approach 3: Community Organizing and Rescue

We will turn Save the Dogs into the largest in-person community for animals ever—and a launchpad for a rescue effort that is 10x larger than the one we executed on April 18. We will aim to have 100 “Hugs for Pups” meetups in May—all featured on savethedogs.io—with delicious vegan ice cream and puppies from local shelters. At churches, universities, or the living rooms of our supporters, we’ll share slickly-edited videos about the Ridglan rescue effort and explain how the Save the Dogs community can help everyone’s pups. Dog parents will come to our meetups for the community and support. (We all need to meet people who can babysit our furry friends!) Others will come for the delicious food and adorable pups. We’ll welcome everyone to join, even if they’re afraid to hold a protest sign. But we will have an underlying purpose: build a community that can mobilize and support 10,000 people for the next rescue effort.

Again, vote on the three proposals here.

I’ll be in court on April 29 at 3 pm to appear for a preliminary hearing in relation to the March 15 rescue. At the hearing, the prosecution will, for the first time, present its evidence that we committed a “crime.” My attorney, in turn, will get his first chance to cross-examine that evidence.

Just as importantly, we will be challenging the court’s unconstitutional conditions imposed upon me during my initial release. Murderers, rapists, and leaders of violent criminal gangs are not subject to the conditions the court imposed on me, including a no-contact order with my co-defendants and an outright ban on stepping foot anywhere in Dane County (other than for court dates). It is just the latest example of lawlessness by the authorities in defense of Ridglan Farms. Our motion, under any reasonably fair judge with an interest in following the Constitution, should prevail.

There should be a livestream of the hearing, but we’re also gathering in person at 2:30 pm outside the courthouse at 215 S Hamilton St, Madison, WI 53703. I’d love to see you there, if you’re local and free tomorrow afternoon!

But immediately after the hearing, my first priority will be focusing on the strategies outlined above. The first of them, culture and storytelling, is already unfolding! The story of peaceful activists targeted by a violent and lawless government is one of our most important tools in freeing the Ridglan dogs. I hope you’ll help us boost that story.

Our plan to save thousands of dogs from Ridglan Farms exploded with a can of tear gas.

On April 18, 1000+ people converged on Ridglan Farms with a seemingly simple plan. Rescue the dogs from criminal abuse using every nonviolent means possible. But the police and industry responded with brutal violence, including attacking a disabled grandmother. Few of our rescuers even got near a building. Not a single dog was freed.

What went wrong? There were at least four major factors in the plan’s failure: overconfidence, complexity, poor communication, and rigidity. But before I can unpack those failures, let me describe in more detail the actual plan.

The April 18 Plan

Our strategy was to use the “flexibility, scale, and intelligence of 1,000+ nonviolent rescuers to overcome any barriers to the mission,” i.e., to rely on teams to act independently on site and find creative means to rescue the dogs. Our plan, in short, was to have no plan—but rely on nonviolence, problem-solving, and the sheer number of the rescuers instead. The most important factors in giving our rescuers this freedom of action was to clear the site of obstacles, including both physical barriers and security or police.

We had special teams who volunteered to arrive early to clear the physical obstacles within minutes—fencing and doorways, specifically—but clearing the site of security and police would require an element of surprise. For that reason, our team leads were instructed that, while the date of the action was set for Sunday, April 19, circumstances such as weather might require a change. The final briefing could happen at any time, and at any place, and team members were asked to be prepared to adapt.

That is precisely what happened in the weeks before the action. Locals told us that the Dane County Sheriff’s office, which up to this point had been civil and respectful of our rights, was planning to shut down the entirety of Blue Mounds Road on April 19. Checkpoints would be set up at roads, and only those with an ID showing a local address would be allowed into the area. That would make a demonstration, much less a rescue, impossible.

“We have to move before they’ve set up the checkpoints,” I told our leadership team in a meeting a week prior to the action. “That probably means going on Friday, right when people arrive.”

We had envisioned this possibility from the start. I first mentioned the possibility of moving on Friday in late March. But there were two problems. The first was that moving on Friday would leave people untrained—and perhaps unprepared—for the action. While we had tried to implement online trainings in the weeks prior to the action, nothing is as good as an in-person walkthrough. And many teams would not have even met in person yet.

“We are just going to have to trust our team leads,” I said. “Because it’s a choice between doing a rescue with less training, or not doing a rescue at all.”

The second was that the weather was not cooperating. What was initially forecast as rain became thunderstorms and tornados in the days leading up to Friday, April 17.

“I don’t think we can safely rescue puppies in this weather,” one member of the leadership team shared. On Thursday night, the team was evenly split on whether we should move the next day.

“Let’s keep open the possibility of doing Friday,” I said. “But unless the weather improves, we are delaying.”

On Friday, our recon teams were telling us that no police were on site, much less setting up perimeter checkpoints. Locals told us, surprisingly, that there was not even private security visible on site. One volunteer even told us he used an infrared camera to confirm there was only one human being at Ridglan Farms. Many members of our team felt that we should move forward.

“This is our best opportunity to catch them off guard,” one told me. “They are going to be prepared over the weekend.”

But the weather was getting worse. A flash flood warning was issued in Dane County, and a local reporter told me that his station was not even allowing him to cover our briefing due to tornado risk. I called off the Friday mission. It’s too dangerous for the dogs, I thought. We would wait until Saturday morning to reassess.

The rest, of course, is history. By Saturday morning, police cruisers were present and following any cars that drove by Ridglan Farms. One pulled over at the intersection of Highway E and Blue Mounds and appeared to be preparing a checkpoint. There was even an armored personnel carrier on site. We had to move immediately if there was going to be any chance at rescuing the dogs. And even if we moved immediately, we had to adapt. As I drove towards Ridglan, I sent a message to our team leads chat.

“We have to pivot. Wait for everyone to mass up and move in one large group,” I said. We instructed breach teams to hold back and arrive at the same time as the larger mass of Red/Yellow activists.

But before I could organize anyone to make this pivot, I was arrested on a public road. Within minutes, tear gas canisters were flying through the air. The police refused to arrest or detain people — their main approach to stopping us on March 15 — and assaulted people instead, preventing anyone from getting anywhere near Ridglan Farms.

Four Major Mistakes

So what were our mistakes?

The first mistake was overconfidence. We assumed, based on the prior action, that the police would use the same tactics they used on March 15: detention and arrest. On April 18, they used brutality instead. I played an enormous personal role in this mistake, as I spoke to many people about how I doubted the likelihood of police violence.1

“This is a progressive county where the Sheriff has pronouns in his bio,” I said. “And there’s never been police violence at any open rescue in animal rights history.”

Indeed, the main threat of violence we perceived was from agent provocateurs within our own movement.

That was a mistake. And while we can’t be sure there was anything that could have been done to overcome police violence, we could have engaged in better scenario planning —consideration of different assumptions about the state of the world we were in—to reflect that possibility. When evidence started coming in that the police might shift to violence—e.g., when Sheriff Kalvin Barrett made a “crazy” video accusing us of violence in the days before the protest—we should have recognized more quickly that our assumptions about police were wrong.

The second mistake was complexity. Large and uncertain challenges require simple plans, especially when they involve large numbers of people. And our plan, beneath its surface simplicity, was far too complex. Nearly a dozen independent teams, from recon to breach, were positioned all over the facility and developing very specific and detailed operational plans. When the chaos and uncertainty inevitably took over, those plans fell apart, and some of our most trusted teams were quickly neutralized. It would have been better for us to keep plans simple—and vet them with contingencies, such as an escalation in police violence. In short, we spent too much time on details that didn’t matter (e.g., how to move a haybale) rather than the high-level simple factors that were more important to mission success (e.g., how to handle a large police presence).

We should change this. Simplicity should always be our mantra, especially when organizing at scale.

A third mistake was poor communication. While the primary reason for moving away from Friday was the weather, a secondary factor was the surprising number of people who did not get the memo that they needed to be ready for action starting on Friday at 6 pm. There is an old mantra in communications research—that you have to repeat a new idea at least 7 times before it sinks in—and we did not do this enough. Worse yet, some people got conflicting messages, partly because we didn’t establish a single source of truth until relatively late in the action. Even our Beagle-Bot—an AI chat agent trained on the documents we prepared—often got things wrong as a result.

Most importantly, we did not have great communication protocols at the action itself. Two days before the action, we did a quick walkthrough of how our Overwatch crew—the set of people responsible for providing key information—would communicate with team leads. It was clear that there were serious deficiencies. Some members of the Overwatch crew, for example, did not understand the lexicon we were using (“What’s core placement?”) or the plan (“Where do rescuers take the dogs?”). We should have focused 10x more on having robust and effective communications strategies. For all future actions, there should be a clear communications memo—setting out who is communicating with whom, and how—right at the start of our action planning.

A fourth and final mistake was rigidity. We were too focused on the primary scenario we envisioned—surprising the police, and facing mass arrest rather than violence when they arrived—and not sufficiently prepared to adapt. We were also too focused on getting maximum participation and not sufficiently willing to lose numbers even if it enhanced our ability to adapt.

Take, for example, the schedule. We started on Sunday, moved to Friday, then ended on Saturday. But we didn’t do enough operationally to ensure that those changes could operate seamlessly. We told people to come on Sunday but did not have the communications norms or culture to change this quickly. This is partly because we wanted to avoid complexity, which is also very important. But there is a way to have simple plans that are also flexible. It might have been enough to tell people, “Come on Sunday, but be prepared for any other time” more explicitly. More generally, for future actions, it may be wise for us not to spell out a single date at all.

“We don’t know exactly when the action will be,” we may have to say. “But the call to action could come at any time.”

That may limit our numbers. But if it ensures flexibility of action, it’s worth it.

What Failure Means

There are, I have no doubt, other failures in our planning. The list above is not meant to be exhaustive. But I want to end with a line from one of my most favorite talks, by entrepreneur (and some-time animal advocate) Vinod Khosla.

“Failure does not matter. Success does.”

Khosla is not trying to suggest that failure isn’t painful. Especially in a context like ours, it’s heartbreaking and demoralizing and even traumatic. Dogs are currently trapped at Ridglan Farms, awaiting torture or death, because we failed.

What Khosla means is that failure is inevitable when trying to solve hard problems—finding a cure for cancer, ending wars, or creating social change. The key is to not let the fear of failure take you off the path of success. Many people, perhaps most people, give up on hard problems when they experience failure. It’s too painful. But that is the only way to guarantee that failure is permanent. In contrast, if we remain willing to fail—and learn from the process—failure doesn’t matter. To the contrary, it’s an essential step on the path to success.

Today, we are engaging in a debrief of our entire rescue community for that purpose. There are so many perspectives and ideas and solutions from this community that I am optimistic that we will learn from the failure of April 18 and continue on the path to success.

Indeed, that is already happening. The unprecedented attention from the action—4x as much search traffic as the March 15 rescue, according to Google Trends—is pushing our culture and institutions in a positive direction. For example, after the April 18 action:

• Rep. Mark Pocan (the district’s own congressman) publicly called for the Ridglan dogs to be released and shelter networks to begin preparation.

• The leading Democratic gubernatorial candidate publicly demanded a “real transition plan” for the Ridglan dogs

• Two Dane County Supervisors, including Rick Rose, condemned police conduct and called for investigation.

We did not save the dogs, but we are in a stronger position than we’ve ever been to get them out. (Yesterday, I whipped up a quick memo with three approaches to seizing this current moment.)

But to find those paths, we must confront our failures directly. Overconfidence, complexity, poor communication, and rigidity were the failures of our leadership team that I saw. What failures did you see, and how do you think we can use our failures to get us back on the path to success?

One day after being released from jail, I’m back in California to hear Prof. Justin Marceau argue the appeal in my conviction for felony conspiracy back in November 2023. This could be the most important legal argument in animal rights history, as it goes to the root of the legal system’s broken relationship with animals: whether animals are beings with legal interests, or just “things.” And the argument, which begins at 9:30 am in downtown San Francisco, is open to the public.

Here’s the event page. (Also consider joining the hangout tomorrow evening at 7:30 pm at the Berkeley Animal Rights center.)

In the Sonoma case, I was sentenced to 38 days in jail for organizing the mass open rescue of distressed hens trapped in cages at one of the largest egg factory farms in the state, Sunrise Farms. That facility’s owners had falsely marketed its products as certified humane; falsely accused us of “terrorism” for documenting their abuses; and even outright lied in court by claiming they had no battery cages when, in fact, we found hundreds of thousands of birds in exactly those cages, which violated the state’s landmark law prohibiting intensive confinement.

The key legal issue in the Sonoma case is whether the necessity defense applies to animals. The prosecution’s argument in the appeal is that animals are akin to “cellular matter”—a comparison expressly adopted by the trial judge—and therefore cannot be “rescued” even if they are victims of criminal abuse. Prof. Marceau, in contrast, will argue that animals can have legal interests, including an interest in being rescued from suffering, supplying the legal foundation for a right to rescue defense in a criminal trial. What is at issue is not just my conviction but the future of countless animals who suffer abuse. This includes the dogs at Ridglan Farms. The prosecution in my prior case in Wisconsin expressly stated that dogs are “things” under the law—and thus cannot be legally rescued.

I hope you join the appeal. It’s important for the court to understand this is an issue with public sympathy and importance.

But regardless of whether you can make it, I hope you can join us in hanging out at the Berkeley Animal Rights Center tomorrow evening at 7:30 pm. We’ll have some cookies and other snacks. And I’ll probably share some slides and stories, but otherwise the hangout is going to be very informal. I am literally just scheduling it today. I’m hoping some others who were part of the recent rescue effort will be able to join us.

I hope I’ll see you tomorrow—at Prof. Marceau’s historic argument, or the hangout in the evening, or both!

They brutalized a disabled grandma.

Jeryl has five grandchildren and suffers from multiple disabilities, including the deteriorating disc, requiring a wheelchair for mobility. She was one of 1000+ activists who came to Ridglan on March 15th to give aid to dogs suffering from criminal abuse.

But when she approached the facility she was met with ruthless police violence. One officer shoved her to the ground. Another pepper sprayed her directly in the eye. A third kicked her vulnerable back viciously.

She was blinded, vomiting, and forcefully taken to a police van. As activists in the van tried to console her, she began to cry — but not for her own pain. “I just wanted to save one dog.”

Repression like this can feel terrifying and insurmountable. And that is precisely its goal: to scare people into inaction. But one of the secrets to successful social movement is that there is a way to make repression backfire. Indeed, from the Civil Rights Movement to Occupy Wall Street, effective movements have harnessed repression to bring attention to the injustice of a system. Civil Rights activists led by Dr. King intentionally marched in Birmingham in 1963 with the knowledge that they’d face brutal violence. Occupy Wall Street went viral after a protester was maliciously pepper sprayed directly in the face by a police officer. In these cases and others through history, it was the repression and not the activism directly that led to transformative change. We can do the same for animal rights if we keep these four things in mind as we confront the repression in our movement.

Every voice matters. Movements that depend on a few key leaders inevitably fail repression’s test. It’s too easy to neutralize a few people and leave a movement voiceless.

But if a movement is diverse and numerous, it can not be silenced. And when the public sees ordinary people resisting — and not just celebrity leaders — it inspires everyone to join. It was a nameless woman who was pepper sprayed and not Bernie Sanders who launched Occupy into national prominence. It was previously unknown activists — Rosa Parks and the Greensboro Four — who inspired the movement for civil rights.

Jeryl was not a celebrity. But it’s stories like hers that will allow us to harness repression for change.

Name the villain. If everyone is a villain, no one is. This is one of the lessons of Hannah Arendt’s study of atrocities in history. When repression is made abstract and bureaucratic, it’s impossible to generate directed outrage against concrete change.

The Civil Rights Movement named specific villains like Bull Conner, the brutal police commissioner in Birmingham. Occupy Wall Street identified a handful of billionaires — Bezos, Musk, and Gates — who held more wealth than the entire lower half of the nation combined.

The Animal Rights Movement must also name its villains. Sheriff Kalvin Barrett voluntarily stepped into that role.

Take the moral high ground. The danger of naming villains is that it can cause a movement to devolve into hatred or even violence. This undermines public sympathy and can legitimize repression.

The Civil Rights Movement strove to resist this. King’s concept of the Beloved Community — a family of people who are cherished and cared for and nourished — included even his adversaries like Lyndon Johnson. Occupy, in contrast, largely lost the moral high ground by demonizing its adversaries. Luigi Mangione, United Healthcare CEO’s killer, is a result of this moral corruption. It is part of the reason the fight against inequality has gone so badly in recent years.

It is important to remember that every villain is just a future friend. If Kalvin Barrett chooses to break bread with animal advocates, I’ll be first in line to host him for a vegan meal.

Courage of purpose. Repression is disorienting. Tear gas and pepper spray literally prevent us from navigating the world. This makes it particularly important to focus on our purpose when facing repression. Without this courage of purpose, we can lose sight of why we resist — and thus give in to fear.

The Civil Rights Movement adopted the principle, accept suffering without retaliation, for this reason. The courageous sacrifice was part of their purpose. Occupy, too, has been at its strongest when it keeps its courage of purpose. Bernie Sanders has suffered numerous efforts to repress his cause including illegal efforts to tilt the DNC against his 2016 presidential primary, but he never loses his focus: defending the working class.

Courage of purpose is one of the reasons why Jeryl’s story is so inspiring. When I first heard what happened to her, I started to tear up. I could feel her fear and pain. But when I heard her response in the police van — “I just wanted to save one dog” — my tears of suffering became tears of awe. Even as Jeryl was threatened with permanent disability, she kept her focus on the dogs. This is incredible courage and focus. And this is how we will win.

Repression is indeed very frightening. But we will make it backfire. Jeryl’s story shows us how. She is not a celebrity but she speaks out. Her story is specific and concrete — pointing to specific villains. And she does so with kindness — and thus maintains the moral high ground. But most important, Jeryl has courage of purpose. Let them attack me, her actions say. I will never give up my purpose: getting every Ridglan dog out of a cage.

“Would you save a grub?”

It was not a question I expected from a special agent in a joint terrorism task force. Yet here I was being interviewed in a Dane County jail about insect rights.

It was just the first in a series of questions I was asked by two special agents with the FBI and state department of justice on Saturday. I answered their questions — against the usual legal advice — because I wanted to learn more about their “terrorism” investigation. And what I learned sheds light on, not just the government’s approach to the Ridglan case, but its approach to all “animal cases.”

The conflation of protest and violence. Jim, one of the agents, started the conversation by comparing our action to those of Luigi Mangione, who allegedly assassinated a healthcare CEO because of complaints about premiums.

You see a company causing harm, he explained. But it’s not okay to use violence.

“You are right. Violence is wrong,” I replied. “But grandmas rescuing dogs is not violence.”

Criminal damage and terrorism. But, Jim insisted, that’s not all you did. There were tools — wire cutters, ladders, and even power saws.

“Damaging property is not always wrong or illegal,” I responded. I asked Jim and So, the other agent, about the dog in a hot car scenario. Would they break the window? Both quickly said yes. So, then, what is different about a dog being mutilated in a vivisector’s cage?

Liberty for me…but not for thee. Jim then told me he was a hunter who killed deer to feed his family. Activists would disrupt his hunts with bells and other devices.

You can have an opinion on hunting, he said, but you can’t stop me from living my life and feeding my family.

But if we care about liberty, I asked, shouldn’t we care about liberty for all beings, including a dog trapped for years in a 2-foot-by-4-foot cage?

The right way to make change. Even if I were right morally, however, So insisted there is a right way to do things: within the law.

I agree — and the law expressly allows some rules to be broken when a life is at stake. Indeed, officers and firefighters break “rules” all the time. No firefighter is liable for breaking down a door to save a puppy from a burning building.

The line on “who matters.” We ended by coming back to their initial question on whether I’d act to save a bug.

“I read that lobsters feel pain,” So said. “Does that give you the right to break into Red Lobster?”

The two agents thought they had me. Who could possibly defend rescuing invertebrates and bugs? But they were surprised by my answer.

“We should have compassion for all animals,” I said. “And yes that includes bugs.” I refuse to kill mosquitoes who are biting me for exactly this reason.

“You want to treat dogs the way you think I treat bugs. But we don’t have to draw lines. We can simply have compassion for them all.”

The agents were stupefied. They requested, and I agreed to, an end to the interview.

No lie can live forever. The sheriff of Dane County will soon see this.

Yesterday, Sheriff Kalvin Barrett condemned the “violent” protesters for breaking into Ridglan Farms “intending to hurt our deputies.” He cited no evidence for this dramatic claim, and the news segment showed images and video instead of peaceful activists being assaulted by police with tear gas, pepper spray, and guns with rubber bullets. The clip ended with video of a journalist collapsed on the ground, gasping for air. Apparently, the journalists were also dangerous.

My first thought in hearing about yesterday’s escalation — I was arrested instantly and witnessed none of it personally — was concerned for those injured. No one should be assaulted for giving aid to a dog, even if damage to property is part of that rescue effort. (Police and firefighters, for example, damage buildings and doors all the time on rescue missions.)

But as reports trickled into jail that immediate danger to the protesters had ended, my concern shifted to anger. The sheriff not only led a vicious assault on peaceful protesters holding flowers. (My cellmate, Aditya, tells me he was arrested with a grandmother of six who was distraught and crying in the back of a police van after being pepper sprayed and tear-gassed. “I just wanted to save a dog,” she cried.) The sheriff had the audacity to outright lie about the grandmothers, journalists, and activists who are deeply committed to nonviolence.

Being falsely accused by a powerful man is a disturbing situation to find ourselves in. You might be surprised by how I feel this morning: confident and optimistic.

The first reason for this is that the sheriff’s lies show the weakness of his decision. People lie when they know they are in the wrong. And the sheriff understands that assaulting grandmas and journalists is wrong. He will use force to fabricate violent intent to justify his own brutality. You can see the weakness of his decision in his tone — the exaggerated manliness — and jerky body language. This is a man who is beginning to realize he’s on the wrong side of history.

The second reason for my optimism is that lies, when exposed, bring even more attention to injustice. As they say, not the crime will get you in trouble, but the coverup. Before I was arrested, I was in correspondence with a Pulitzer-Prize winning journalist who specializes in exposing government deceit. I expect a story will be forthcoming. I’ve also heard the New York Times published a positive story just hours after the protest — the fastest from pitch to publication I’ve ever seen for an animal rights story in the Times.

Brutality and dishonesty may suppress dissent in the short term. But over the long term, they simply bring more attention to a cause. Humans have a deep desire for authenticity. Even those uncertain about our actions will not be happy to learn they are being lied to.

And that brings me to the third reason for optimism: no lie can live forever. As attention focuses on the weakness of the sheriff’s position, there will be immense pressure to change. Indeed, this is already happening. The sheriff’s bizarre and false assertion that Ridglan is exempt from the animal cruelty laws has been thoroughly debunked. Journalists no longer repeat that lie. Institutions such as the Dane County Board have rejected it. Indeed, even the sheriff himself has stopped saying it, perhaps because he realized that his lie…has died.

There is a broader principle here. For thousands of years, humanity assembled through darkness and deceit. False prophets and manipulative demagogues have had an iron grip on our species.

But for the last few hundred years, with the spread of literacy and reason, that grip has been broken. In a world where information is in all of our hands, and not just the powerful, something remarkable is happening: the world is bending towards truth.

We once lived in a world where brutal segregation was accepted as “equal protection.”

Where women were considered “property” of a man rather than “citizens.”

And where love between two people of the same gender was a “criminal act.”

Those lies have all fallen. So too will the sheriff’s. He can try with all his might to manipulate the public into believing that compassionate rescuers are “violent,” that Ridglan’s criminal abusers are just “licensed business,” or that the dogs at Ridglan are just “things.”

But he will fail. Because no lie can live forever. And the world is saying this truth:

The animals of this Earth are not “things.” They’re sentient beings. And we have the right to rescue them from abuse.

We have been attacked. Now everything depends on how we respond: with courage or fear.

Today, hundreds of animal activists were tear-gassed, shot with rubber bullets, and assaulted by dozens of police protecting Ridglan Farms. As I sit in a jail cell, I am feeling a mix of shock from the sudden escalation of violence and guilt for the failure to protect the people I love. Cordial conversations with Sheriff Kalvin Barrett convinced me that authorities would respond to our movement with reason.

I was wrong.

Now we must care for our injured and defend those who are arrested. Leaders like me must be accountable for our decisions and ask forgiveness from all those who suffered harm while our movement learns from this moment.

Above all, we cannot give up on our purpose. We cannot give up on the dogs. If we stay focused on this purpose, the repression will backfire. The public will see armed men attacking grandmas desperately trying to save dogs, and their conscience will be awakened. That is what happened in India’s struggle for independence when armed British soldiers attacked peaceful activists simply attempting to gather salt. It’s what happened when civil rights activists were attacked by police dogs in Birmingham in 1963. It will happen here too — as long as we don’t give up the fight. The brutality of those attacking us will highlight the injustice of a system that uses state violence to defend the torture of innocent dogs.

I don’t mean to say that this moment will guarantee the scale of change we saw in the 1960s. There were years of struggle and failure before activists in past movements saw the change they dreamed of.

What those activists understood though is their sacrifice had purpose.

Claudette Colvin, a young Black woman who was arrested one year before Rosa Parks, did not spark the historic movement. And the Black community in Montgomery could have responded to Colvin’s arrest with withdrawal and fear, as a state-sponsored lynching spread across the nation, that would have been an understandable response.

But they did not respond with fear. Rosa Parks saw the purpose in Colvin’s brave acts and instead followed in her footsteps. Parks’s courage in the face of repression changed the world. In the face of broken systems, courage is often the only thing that does.

So now we animal activists face the same question. We have been attacked, and our friends are hurt and in jail. But the dogs we love are still trapped in cages. And those brave activists’ sacred purpose — to bring those dogs into freedom and love — shines brilliantly through their actions.

As I sit in this jail cell, I cannot say with certainty what our next steps should be.

But what I can say is this: our next step must be taken with courage.

Pray for courage. Pray for the dogs.

But a few words on why we are doing this.

This is not a political cause, really, though politics plays a role. It’s not really a moral campaign, either, though of course ethics plays a role.

It’s fundamentally a fight for our families. The dogs of this earth are not things, or even toys. They are our children when we are parents. They are our brothers and sisters when we are young. They are cousins and friends and—above all—they are family. And when you hurt our family, we will act to protect them.

I am back at Ridglan for Vivian, my first pup who shielded me from bullies at school.

For Natalie, who gave me purpose in my greatest moment of darkness.

For Lisa, who taught me lessons on love.

For Oliver, whose innocence and vulnerability moved a nation.

And, last of all, for James, the beagle I took out of Ridglan on March 15.

James didn’t know there was a big, beautiful world out there. He didn’t know what it meant to have parents, to run in a big yard, to feel love. And yet he must have known it was out there, somewhere. Love is the primordial bond, the thing that all mammals yearn for from the moment they are born.

Ridglan has broken that bond, shattered it cruelly into a thousand pieces. We aim to restore it.

I’m grateful to you for supporting us in that sacred mission.

I’ll see you on the other side of this rescue.

Over the last few weeks, a number of peaceful activists and supporters have been met by armed men, waving guns and threatening violence, every time they pass by Ridglan Farms. Today, we sent a legal demand letter to Ridglan saying these violent threats must stop. And we are actively seeking out the name of its security company and the individuals involved, so we can serve them with legal papers. The suit asks for $20 million in damages on behalf of a class of 2000 people whose constitutional rights have been violated by Ridglan’s terroristic, violent threats.

If you are part of the security company, or know someone who is, please reach out. We are actively seeking whistleblowers who can share more about the illegal conduct at issue in this case—not just the threats to human beings but the abuse of animals, too. We will promise you complete immunity and anonymity, and you will help us make sure we serve the right people.

That means the people in power who are calling the shots.

We are actively exploring adding Dane County as a defendant in this case as well. The Sheriff’s deputies have refused to protect peaceful protesters. One woman, a former Ms. Teen Wisconsin, was asked, “Why are you wearing a dress?” after she called 911 when armed men threatened her outside of Ridglan Farms. The Sheriff, by condoning these violent threats, is part of a criminal conspiracy and must be held to account.

But the most important thing, of course, is that we save the dogs. We cannot lose sight of that. Defending our rights is important, but we must leverage our rights to defend the rights of the animals facing torture or imminent death at Ridglan Farms. You can help us do that. Get the word out. Let the Sheriff know how you feel.

And, on April 19, let’s save the dogs.

A few days ago, a supporter of our rescue effort drove by Ridglan Farms to see the facility firsthand—and she was immediately confronted by armed men. Five men in masks and black attire rushed down the Ridglan driveway in an effort to intimidate her. One pulled out a gun and waved it menacingly, as she drove away.

I shared an image of the scene to our WhatsApp rescue community. People were understandably alarmed.

“How will we be handling the new security team Ridglan hired for our action on April 19th?” one rescuer asked on our Zoom call, receiving 110 upvotes on her comment. “I hear they will be carrying guns. That’s pretty scary!”

But the presence of armed men is only the latest threat Ridglan and its allies in government have used to scare people from participating in our rescue. Over the weekend, the authorities issued a statement indicating that it might file charges against the activists from the last rescue as early as this week. The company has built up its compound like a medieval fortress, with moats and barbed wire fencing. Rumors have even spread that the organizers of the April 19 rescue, including me, could be raided or arrested before the action.

And yet I am more confident than ever that our mission will succeed.

How can that be the case?

It’s not because fear is unreasonable. When cruel men threaten violence, we should take them seriously.

It’s also not because I expect the authorities to suddenly see the light. While the tide is turning against Ridglan, they still have a stranglehold over local law enforcement, which repeats the company’s absurd claims of corporate immunity like a broken record.

No, I am more confident than ever because overcoming fear is precisely what gives movements power. And the greater the fear we overcome, the greater the power. Our willingness to rescue dogs, even as masked men menace us, will inspire even more public support. Indeed, this is precisely why legendary activists like Dr. King and Gandhi chose the most brutal adversaries in their campaigns, such as the violent racist Bull Connor in Birmingham. When peaceful protesters challenged cruel oppressors, it shocked the nation’s conscience into action.

Let me be clear: participating in an open rescue does not require everyone to risk this sort of danger. We have a plan to handle the armed men at Ridglan Farms. Trained leaders, such as me, will be the ones who are tasked with immediately engaging this threat. Our goal will be for these men to see our common humanity—and spark doubt in their support for a company that likely treats them (like the dogs) as nothing more than tools for illicit profit. After all, it will not be the company, but the security guards as individuals, who may be arrested if someone is hurt at the protest.

We are also pursuing legal strategies. Our lawyers at the University of Denver Sturm College of Law have already written one demand letter to the authorities concerning the state government’s violations of our constitutional rights. We are exploring other options to protect our activists, including a class action complaint against Ridglan—and the individuals it has hired for security—seeking tens of millions in damages.

I am confident that these strategies can mitigate the threat. But there is another reason I’m confident going into April 19.

Our love for animals is stronger than their cruelty. My friend Lincoln Quirk, who participated in the last open rescue, wrote this week that love is the “growth engine” for movements. From deposing dictators to fighting the KKK, love—rather than outrage—is key to inspiring support for change. It is the attractive force that counterbalances the negative force of outrage.

But, perhaps even more importantly, love counteracts fear. Lincoln writes, “[W]hen I saw the opportunity to throw open those doors, and have the potential of giving and receiving love for the sweet beagles being tortured inside, that inspired enough courage to get me over the hump to join a rescue for the first time in my life.”

What was true for Lincoln is true for so many thousands planning to join us on April 19. Yes, we are anxious. Yes, some of us are even afraid. But when you love someone, you protect them—even when you are scared.

We love animals. We love the birds and the bees. We love the fish that swim in the sea, and birds that soar in the skies.

And we love dogs. So let them send armed men at us. We will still act to protect those we love. Because love, not fear, is the greatest force in the universe. And, with love, we will overcome.

Other updates

• If you are coming to the action, remember that our required briefings and trainings start on Friday, April 17. The Action Guide and the Announcements channel in the WhatsApp are your “master source for truth” for the action. (You can find both at savethedogs.io.) Dress for outdoor activity throughout the weekend and note that multiple documentary companies are planning to be present both at the action and the full group briefing on April 17. Dress as if you’ll be on camera starting on April 17, because you will be!

• Negotiations are ongoing on multiple fronts. I still have some hope that some form of negotiated release can be accomplished through the authorities. But we should know for certain by Friday, as the government tends not to work on weekends. I will just say for now that we have many friends in higher places aiding this effort behind the scenes.

• Work with your team lead if you are having a problem on your rescue team. If your problem can’t be worked out directly with your team lead—and only then—shoot us an email at recruiting@simpleheart.org, and we can help. (Otherwise, our initial suggestion will be to touch base with your team lead.)

• I want to apologize to the Deputy I called out on social media. I was outside Ridglan Farms today, and I spoke to the Deputy who seized a dog from the back of a rescue van. She explained that she has faced many threats as a result of posts I’ve made, which aggressively condemned her actions in seizing rescued dogs. That is not ok (and it’s not good for the dogs). This is a hard issue, one that creates anger in all of us. But all of us—including me—must learn to harness our anger in productive directions. I missed the mark in the moment. I hope to do better next time—and make absolutely clear the compassionate nature of our movement in all my interactions.

• Pray for us. Pray for the dogs. I have great hope for the future of the Ridglan dogs. I have seen that hope come to life, as traumatized puppies have come out into this big new world and learned that it’s full of joy and love. I am inspired by the many who are coming in person to support us. But even if you are not coming in person, send your prayers. It helps.

That’s all for now!

We are one week from what will be a historic moment in animal rights history. Thousands of people are planning to walk peacefully to Ridglan Farms and free all of the dogs trapped there from life in a cage.

In our last rescue effort, on March 15, out of 45 total Red Team members, we had around 30 designated to rescue animals. It is no coincidence that 30 dogs were removed from Ridglan as a result.

Every person who signs up is making the decision to change a little beagle’s life: from torture in a Ridglan cage, to a bright new future with a loving family.

But it is not just the Red Team that is crucial to these efforts. Every person who participates in a rescue is helping us achieve this mission. From Yellow Team members who shield rescuers from violence to Green Team members who are the peaceful face of our actions, every person counts.

But to join, you need to sign up now. We decided that one week was the minimum time we should give our team leads to integrate new rescuers into their teams. The application to join the rescue will thus close in 6 hours, at 12:01 am PT.

So this is the moment, for you and for the dogs.

Join us—and we’ll make history together and save the Ridglan dogs.

I just got word from comedian Ricky Gervais’s representatives that he is offering his full-throated endorsement of the Ridglan rescue effort. The Daily Mirror published his statement. “It’s time to release the dogs at Ridglan Farms, so they can live out their days surrounded by the love and freedom they so desperately need and deserve.”

Ricky is merely the latest influential figure to support the effort. Dr. Jane Goodall condemned Ridglan’s “atrocious animal welfare record” and wrote an op-ed to support us in the Washington Post. Musicians (Moby) and podcasters (Jen Welch) have been joining our Zoom calls for rescuers. (The legendary environmental activist and lawyer Steven Donziger is joining our next one—Sunday at 1 pm ET.) And, just a few days ago, Ridglan’s own member of Congress, Mark Pocan, condemned the company’s “alarming” mistreatment of dogs and told them to “rehom[e] every beagle.”

Yet the Dane County authorities continue to protect Ridglan and target their rescuers. Just a few days ago, a former Ms. Teen Wisconsin, Melany, went to Ridglan to pray for the dogs outside of the facility, as she has the First Amendment right to do. Ridglan cars swarmed her, boxing her in. That is a crime. You cannot falsely imprison someone on a public road. But when she called 911, the police harassed Melany—asking “Why are you wearing a dress?”—and refused to help. Indeed, they showed up at her door the next day to tell her she would face law enforcement consequences if she visited again.

What is going on?

The answer is partly Ridglan’s deep connections to the government. Ridglan’s head vet Rick VanDomelen is the chair of the Town of Blue Mounds Board. The owner’s son-in-law, Jerry Blizzard, is the town’s Constable. Ridglan, in short, is embedded in law enforcement. And while it is a crime to use public resources for private benefit in Wisconsin, that is a law that is rarely enforced.

The answer is also partly that police, even in progressive counties, are reflexively anti-protester. The police are part of the established order. They are taught from Day 1 to dislike those who seek change. The result is that even peaceful, lawful protesters are often treated like criminals by improperly-trained police.

But I think the best explanation is one that goes beyond law enforcement; it’s a culture that sees animal abuse as “not serious.” Most people care for animals. Most people hate to see them suffer. But animals are not CEOs of corporations or generals of wars. They don’t teach at prestigious universities or lead white-ribbon panels. They don’t organize galas or donate to campaigns.

And that has led their complaints to be ignored. Animal issues are seen as something that sentimental children or soccer moms care about—but not the “important” people in places like Dane County. This is a cultural pathology. Everyone, individually, cares about animals, but because it’s not “prestigious” to defend them, the system ignores their concerns. The result of this cultural pathology is that even the most brutal abuse of animals is ignored—especially when it’s undertaken by a powerful person or industry.

But this cultural pathology is now remedying.

A half century ago, when Ridglan was founded, and the US was in the middle of a Cold War, no one bothered to look twice at the fact that dogs were being radiated and poisoned en masse.

But now everyone is looking. Not just Ricky Gervais and Jane Goodall and Mark Pocan, but millions of people across the nation and world. The Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel, which has barely any following on social media, has had tens of millions of viewers flocking to its platform to follow the story.

What does this mean for the authorities?

It’s an opportunity for them to change. My friend and fellow organizer Almira Tanner set out this week why this moment is so important. It is a so-called “dilemma action,” where the authorities will be forced to choose between hard options. Comply with the power structure, or join the people in fighting it.

I can understand why the authorities have looked the other way. The system wasn’t built—politically, legally, culturally—to address the abuse of dogs. But I can’t understand why they would continue to look the other way now that we’ve reached a dilemma moment.

The nation wants these dogs protected. Challenging a powerful industry with deep ties to government isn’t easy. But the other choice—supporting the criminal abuse of dogs and targeting their rescuers—is even worse.

Over the long term, even the authorities will make the right choice.

Other stuff

• With Ricky’s endorsement, the wave for the April 19 rescue is growing—and this weekend is the last time to join it. As I hit send on this newsletter, we have nearly 1,774 people signed up. To get to 2000, the exact number of beagles at Ridglan Farms, we need you to sign up—and share the sign up website with everyone you know.

• My friend Lincoln Quirk, who I mentioned in my newsletter yesterday, wrote a short blog about why he was willing to go to jail to defend the Ridglan pups. The entire piece is worth reading, but the last part is particularly important. If we want change, we have to “to challenge ourselves to do more and more courageous things.”

• Remember to steal all my content for this last push! We are hoping to get this thermometer past 2000 by the end of Sunday. We don’t have a big marketing budget, so we depend on people like you. For that purpose, feel free to post or share any of the content in this folder, including videos I’ve posted to my own social media! Every person you inspire to join us could be the difference between life and death for a dog.

• Finally, don’t forget our last Zoom briefing is tomorrow at 1 pm ET. New recruits for the rescue are especially encouraged to join. But given that we have another special guest, Steven Donziger, it’ll probably be worth it for all of you. Join the WhatsApp community to get the Zoom link.

They said it was impossible to save him.

For nearly half a century, thousands of beagles just like him had been poisoned, mutilated, or simply killed and burned in huge pyres at places like Ridglan Farms. Yet public outcry over the abuses seemed incapable of creating change. The enormity of the industry’s abuses was matched by the enormity of its power. It had not just billions of dollars in revenue but the backing of the US government, which launched us into the nuclear age partly by performing fatal radiation experiments on dogs.

In the months before March 15, many experienced activists told me that our planned rescue at Ridglan was hopeless.

“You’re not going to get any out,” one said.

“It’s an impossible rescue,” another offered.

They were wrong.

On March 15, we executed one of the largest open rescues in animal rights history, with around 150 people walking peacefully to rescue 30 dogs from cages at Ridglan Farms. Millions of people supported our efforts—including celebrities, journalists, and now the district’s Congressperson Mark Pocan. Most importantly, 22 beautiful little beagles—including the little boy above—got out of a Ridglan cage and felt freedom and love for the first time.

And now we are mobilizing 10 times as many people to go back and save all the dogs on April 19.

How did we do it? Here are the most important lessons.

We maintained a big tent—even when it was uncomfortable. Movements are powerful when they harness the power of numbers. Yet internal disputes over other issues—Israel/Gaza, MeToo, and Black Lives Matter—have torn the animal rights movement apart.

It almost happened to us. In the weeks leading up to the March 15 rescue, we heard many people were upset that we had invited renowned activist Gary Yourofsky, who is the author of the most-watched speech in animal rights history. His 2013 comments about the Israeli-Palestine conflict resurfaced; he somehow managed to piss people off on all sides of the issue.

But we resisted efforts to cancel him. No one on the action’s organizing committee agreed with Gary’s views. But we wanted to create a culture where people would find ways to unify despite our differences. And we knew that if we started imposing litmus tests on all the political issues out there, everyone would get kicked out. (No one can pass every litmus test!) We wanted to create a culture, instead, where people came together despite those differences.

Canceling Gary would undermine that culture. So we stood by him. And it worked. The March 15 action was one of the most ideologically diverse in animal rights history, with vegans and meat eaters joining socialists and Republicans in a unified rescue effort.

We were decentralized—but not afraid of leadership. Decentralized organizing allows movements to tap into the creativity of the masses. But when that creativity pulls a movement into too many different directions, it undermines focus and creates conflict. We succeeded on March 15 because we empowered the grassroots while also placing trust in leaders who could ensure focus and coordination.

This was most obvious in the action itself. Early efforts by “leaders” to access the facility failed, as our crowbars weren’t getting the doors open. Only some quick thinking by a new activist, a software engineer who had never been part of an open rescue, allowed us to find the window that ultimately made the rescue possible.

But when that access was finally achieved, we still needed leadership to get people focused and coordinated. And we had it. We had divided the 150 activists into small groups, each with a team lead.

“Entry Entry Entry,” I shouted into the radio.

And the team leads responded, directing all of our activists to the entry point. Within minutes, dozens of activists were streaming into the building and taking dogs out.

Bravery, not safety. Over the last two decades, activist movements have strongly elevated the concept of “safer spaces.” The belief, among many, was that we needed to make everyone feel safe before they’d be willing to take action. But effective movements make people feel brave, not safe. There are real risks to activism. Inspiring courage, rather than seeking safety, is key to creating change.

I failed at that about a year before the Ridglan action. A planned mass open rescue at a controversial slaughterhouse fell apart in part because concerns about safety—over legal repression or even violence— were not overcome. In the Ridglan rescue, in contrast, we made clear to people from the start that we were focused on the dogs’ safety, not our own. That did not mean we were going to take stupid risks. But it did mean that, when concerns over safety arose—for example, there was a rumor that Ridglan was planning to use deadly force against us—we were able to overcome them by referring back to our values. (“That’s not allowed under Wisconsin law,” I explained. “But if confronting violence is the only way to save the dogs, I’ll take the risk!”)

Nonviolence. One of the lessons of the last 200 years of social change is that nonviolence— a commitment to compassion even for one’s adversaries—beats violence. The reason is that nonviolent movements harness narrative power. With inspiring stories of peaceful activists confronting violent oppressors, nonviolent movements garner public support and undermine the system’s attempts to crack down on the resistance. After all, who wants to go up against grandmas holding flowers?

From Day 1 of our organizing for the first Ridglan rescue, we made nonviolence core to who we are. We shared stories of peaceful resistance from movements over the past 200 years, such as Dr. King and Gandhi. We practiced getting hassled by security and threatened by police, and responding with peaceful composure. We engaged in exercises that challenged us to empathize with our adversaries. And, when the moment of truth came, this preparation paid off. Dozens of flower-wielding activists bravely shielded dogs from violent employees, as others rushed them to safety. A lawyer friend who has handled dozens of activist cases told me afterwards that the story of the action was “perfect.”

That is nonviolence’s narrative power.

—

Now we need to apply these lessons again. On April 19, we face an even greater challenge. Ridglan has threatened violence against peaceful protesters—going so far as brandishing a gun at a former Ms. Teen Wisconsin who stopped outside the facility to pray for the dogs. It has also built up its facility like a fortress. Many people in this movement will face doubt or fear.

But with the lessons from March 15—and 200 years of history—we will overcome these challenges. Success is never 100% guaranteed. But when 1000+ people deploy the lessons from the last rescue—inclusivity, decentralized leadership, courage, and nonviolence— we will prevail.

And, not just one little boy, but thousands, will see sunlight for the first time.

Other updates

• The deadline to sign up for the rescue at Ridglan Farms is this Sunday. We need time to prepare and train people, especially for rescue roles, so sign up as soon as you can! And ask your friends to do the same. There may be some limited roles for people who sign up after Sunday. But it’s unlikely they’ll be able to take part directly in the rescue. Again, feel free to use any content from my Substack or social media on your own pages to help promote the rescue. (There’s no need to ask for permission.) And send everyone to savethedogs.io!

• To support you on that, we have an amazing Zoom event on Sunday at 1 pm ET—a conversation with renowned activist lawyer Steven Donziger, followed by an Ask Me Anything with the action organizers. Steve knows better than anyone the challenges of taking on power. He was jailed for his efforts to challenge Big Oil—but became a legend in the process. Right after the conversation with Steve, we’ll break out into small groups to discuss the action and brainstorm any questions you have for the organizers. Then we’ll come back as a big group and give you a chance to ask me and other organizers anything. Don’t miss this, as this will likely be our last briefing before the April 19 rescue. We’ll send you the Zoom if you join the WhatsApp community.

• Two leaders from the last rescue have written breathtaking accounts of their experience. Aditya Aswani writes about leaping through a window in a last-ditch to effort to save a dog—only to have the pup torn from his arms. And attorney Abie Brauner gives you a vivid sense of what it’s like to be part of an open rescue mission—from training to carrying dogs—this is a must-read if you’re new to rescue.

Until next time!

Jennifer Welch—host of I’ve Had It, one of the biggest podcasts in America—is joining the Ridglan rescuers on Sunday at 4 pm ET to discuss her profound connection to Tubby (her beloved bulldog) and why she’s HAD IT with government officials who cover for the abuse of dogs! Jennifer has featured guests such as Kamala Harris and Barack Obama on her show. Now she’s lending her withering wit to defend the dogs at Ridglan Farms, a notorious facility that has sent thousands of puppies to torture or death in illegal procedures and experiments. You’ll hear remarkable stories of courage and compassion on this call—and learn how you can help 2,000 dogs whose time has almost run out.

After the conversation with Jennifer, we’ll spend some time discussing an upcoming rescue effort in Wisconsin on April 19. We’ll break out into small groups, so you can meet some of the 1000+ people committed to heading to Wisconsin to save the Ridglan dogs from criminal abuse!

Register for the event here.

We are fighting back this week with a demand letter that challenges the authorities’ refusal to enforce the animal cruelty laws—even as 1000+ activists prepare to rescue the Ridglan dogs.

Our ask in court will be simple: enforce the law, and protect the dogs.

But let’s back up and give you some context. In June 2024, months after we filed a criminal complaint on behalf of a federal prosecutor, Wisconsin state inspectors performed a routine inspection at Ridglan Farms, a beagle breeding and experimentation facility. And they found something disturbing inside. Dogs, including the mother pup pictured above, were struggling to walk after living a lifetime on metal wire. The inspector noted this mama was “limping and keeping weight off her front right paw” and that she had a “ruptured interdigital cyst” on her paw. She was just one of thousands of dogs who had never felt anything soft.

The untreated injury was particularly glaring given that, just a few months ago, I had walked into the offices of the Dane County sheriff with a criminal referral from a federal prosecutor documenting criminal cruelty at Ridglan Farms. The referral alleged the precise abuse that led to this mama suffering a grievous wound: 2’ x 4’ metal cages where dogs were confined for life on wire flooring. But the company did not seem worried, even as they faced criminal complaints by reputable prosecutors. It was as if they saw themselves as above the law.

And sadly, we have now learned why: the Dane County authorities endorsed the bizarre theory that Ridglan was exempt from the animal cruelty laws as a “teaching” facility. The authorities’ position effectively gave Ridglan freedom to torture dogs and have complete immunity from prosecution.

It was blatantly wrong and illegal. But they might have gotten away with it. Efforts to bring suits on behalf of the dogs failed because courts ruled that, as “things,” the dogs could not bring suit as victims of crimes.

Until now.

This week, our lawyers at the University of Denver Animal Activist Defense Project submitted a legal demand and so-called “preservation letter” to Dane County regarding its failure to enforce animal cruelty laws. This is not brought on behalf of the dogs, but on behalf of activists who have been defamed and unconstitutionally targeted by the Dane County authorities. It is a way for us to leverage our own legal standing—as human beings with due process rights—to create legal standing and rights for the dogs.

In particular, if we are right that Ridglan has committed felony animal abuse—as every fact-finding body has concluded—then the authorities have violated our rights by targeting us and refusing to investigate Ridglan Farms. And because our claim is a civil claim, we do not have to wait for the government to act. We can bring this action ourselves.

This is an important new development in the fight to save the Riglan dogs, and we have brilliant attorneys at the University of Denver behind us, including Chris Carraway (part human, part pit bull). However, it’s important to note the limitations of this approach. In particular, we probably have no standing to seek seizure of the dogs. This is why the rescue effort on April 19 is so crucial. Even if we force the government, eventually, to concede that Ridglan is not above the law, that will be little solace to the thousands of dogs who are nonetheless sent to torture or death.

This new legal demand is still an important one. Social change is complex and requires many approaches working in coordination, like a dance troupe with many different roles. But fueling all of these efforts is a simple idea. When animals are being criminally abused, we have the right to rescue them.

Whether in the court of law or on the frontlines of abuse, we’ll be making our case on April 19. The mother dog found limping by state inspectors in June 2024 might still be there, trapped in a cage. If you join us, we will get her out.

Sign up now to join the rescue effort at savethedogs.io.

Other Updates

• One of the nation’s leading podcasters, Jennifer Welch, will be joining a Zoom briefing for the Ridglan rescue team this Sunday (April 5) at 4 pm ET. Jennifer normally spends time interviewing former presidents or candidates, like Barack Obama and Kamala Harris. Her withering wit and authenticity have made her a star of new media. But this Sunday, she will be deploying her considerable talents to help the Ridglan dogs. You won’t want to miss this. Zoom details will be circulated to this Substack list on Sunday morning. Note: this will replace our usual Saturday, 1 pm ET briefing.

• I reached out to the Sheriff to schedule another meeting after our lawyers sent their demand letter. Here is the full email.

  

  The situation has become much more tense, but I still hope to reach a negotiated resolution. But it will require the authorities to do something they rarely do: acknowledge a mistake.

• If you are on a team for the Ridglan rescue, you should have been contacted. And don’t forget the Action Guide at savethedogs.io is your one stop shop for this action. It will be regularly updated. Use it religiously!

Until next time!

Jen in particular is now renowned for her down-to-earth style grilling of the most powerful people in the world. (She called Rahm Emanuel a sell-out—right to his face!) And the I’ve Had It ladies are now taking on… animal experiments. They had me on the show today to discuss the upcoming beagle rescue on April 19. (The segment starts at 19:23 of the video below.)

But here are some of the highlights.

People are yearning for something honest, something good. There is so much nonsense out there in the world today. And politicians seem more like performers than actual actors. What has made I’ve Had It such a powerful platform is that the hosts are honest and good. And that’s also why they support the rescue effort.

We need to challenge people in power. Jen jokes about how we need to send “ballistic missiles” at people in power. And she’s right. For too long, people in power have expected us to accept their lies. And the left, especially, has been unwilling to challenge institutions that hold power. If we are going to change, we need to step up and take direct action.

There’s something we can learn from dogs. Jen says at one point in the segment, “We don’t deserve dogs.” She’s right. The unconditional love. The patience. The relentless joy they see in small things in life. One of the most vile things about the Ridglan case is that the industry has taken beings of joy and lightness and crushed them with sadness and pain.

There’s a lot more that could be drawn from this conversation. But here’s my last thought:

The people, including the most influential voices, support the Ridglan rescue. The I’ve Had It podcast represents so many Americans. Where these ladies go, the nation goes. Ridglan may have the authorities on their side for now. But not for long. With people like Jen and Angie on our side, the writing is on the wall.

If you want to help us make history—and garner more support from Jen and Angie—join the rescue effort on April 19 by signing up at savethedogs.io!

On March 15, 100+ activists descended on Ridglan Farms to rescue dogs who faced imminent torture or death. Mass chaos ensued. Teams were threatened by workers. Others were grabbed by police. And still others decided to sit in the freezing rain, refusing to leave, until the authorities acted to save the dogs. I was arrested almost instantly after removing a dog and so barely witnessed what ensued. (The pup, thankfully, was brought to safety.) But many people have described the event, and the incredible attention and outcry in the weeks since, as a whirlwind.

And despite the chaos that implies, a whirlwind is exactly what the pups at Ridglan need.

That’s because, in the history of social justice, “whirlwind” moments have been crucial to social change. In This Is An Uprising—the book that has become a bible for social justice activists—a whirlwind moment is described as “a dramatic public event… that sets off a flurry of activity, and that… quickly spreads beyond the institutional control of any one organization. It inspires a rash of decentralized action, drawing in people previously unconnected to established movement groups.” These whirlwind movements, such as the Birmingham campaign by civil rights activists in 1963, are immensely chaotic but just as immensely important for making change.

And the Ridglan rescue may be the animal rights movement’s whirlwind moment. The rescue on March 15 was a dramatic event that triggered a flurry of activity on behalf of tens of thousands of people—virtually all of whom were outside of any central organization. These remarkable supporters, including 1500 people who have committed to physically join the next rescue effort, are independently acting to protect the Ridglan dogs—and raise the abuse of animals to global prominence.

Whirlwind moments do not always go as well as Birmingham in 1963, however. The animal rights movement, in particular, has never truly been able to seize a whirlwind. Even when stories go viral, such as the killing of Cecil the Lion or the Fauci beagle scandal, we struggle to coordinate our efforts and push for institutional change, such as bans on hunting wildlife or on testing on dogs. Moreover, even movements that have seized the whirlwind, such as MeToo and Black Lives Matter have struggled to sustain their progress. The wave of policy changes from those movements has, at this point, mostly been reversed. What do we need to ensure that we harness the Ridglan rescue to achieve maximum progress?

There are three priorities.

The first is storytelling. Effective movements are fueled with stories, and effective stories are not told by any one person. Even the greatest storytellers of our generation—e.g, the filmmakers at Pixar—use a brutal and decentralized feedback process to ensure their best stories come forward. Movements can do even better than this, as we can capitalize on the storytelling ability of the masses. Research shows that a story told by you is most effective at changing the people around you.

You are a more important spokesperson, in your network, than I am.

But to tell these stories, we need to create a structure and resources to make that happen. This is why we’ve drafted a short communications memo, with photos and video, and encourage everyone to give us feedback and use our content.

If we are going to reach 2000 rescuers on April 19, we’ll need you to tell the story of the rescue and get people to sign up at savethedogs.io. Don’t bother to ask me for permission. Just steal our content (including anything I post on social media)!

The second priority is logistics. Whirlwind moments are exciting, and everyone wants to do the most intrinsically inspiring things, like rescue dogs. But effective movements build, not just inspiration, but logistics. The Civil Rights movement needed people to print fliers in Montgomery, for example, and not just rally for inspiring direct action. Our own effort has similar demands. We need people to prepare housing for dogs, review huge archives of photos and video for social media, manage onboarding systems, help other activists with housing/travel advice, and even just look through documents for spelling or grammar errors.

If a movement doesn’t scale up its logistical capacity, it will be top-heavy and collapse. Of particular importance right now: we need more rescues with large scale logistical capacity to place dogs in homes!

The third priority is decentralized leadership. In the modern social media era, there’s a tendency towards passive participation in movements. We wait for the “leader” to tell us what to do—and only then do we act. That won’t work in a whirlwind. Independent leaders need to step up throughout our movement if we are going to rescue 2000 dogs—and raise the issue of animal rights to national prominence. This applies to the smallest of details, such as making sure two activists in an argument don’t escalate it into a bigger fight. A community of 150 can rely on a single leader intervening to ensure unity and commonality of purpose. A community of 1500 needs 10x more leaders—including many who have no formal title—to ensure we stay focused and unified.

A simple note—“Hey folks, you’re both great! What do you think we can do to keep our movement unified and focused on the Ridglan dogs?”—can make a big difference.

But say you want some more specifics. What things do we need most, right now, to turn this into a whirlwind moment?

• People who can identify key videos and photos of the March 15 rescue. A picture is worth a thousand words. We have a massive archive of media shot at the action but have had virtually no time to review it. If you’re interested in helping with this, and have some skill in it, shoot an email to comms@savethedogs.io.

• Large-scale rescues that can commit to being on site on April 19. Our placement team can’t realistically handle thousands of applications to take dogs. A few large-scale rescues, that can take 100 or more dogs, would add immensely to the logistics of our effort. Email placement@simpleheart.org if you can help.

• Experienced activists who are willing to lead teams. Our aim is to have every activist on April 19 have a “team” that can guide them through the preparations for the rescue. But to do that, with 1500+ people already signed up, we need far more team leads—especially those versed in rescue and able to work effectively in a big, diverse movement. If you’re interested, shoot us an email at recruiting@simpleheart.org.

Other updates

• One of the most breathtaking accounts of the beagle rescue was published by Vox writer Marina Bolotnikova. Read it. Marina is gifted in her ability to write in a way that makes you feel you are part of dramatic unfolding events. Here’s an excerpt:

  Nobody knew whether any beagles would come out that day, and I did not really believe they would. Then the white-suited activists re-emerged along the horizon, each cradling a vulnerable, bewildered yet improbably trusting animal. I became fixated on the sight of the dogs’ tricolored fur drenched with freezing rain, and wondered, as I had many times before, what the world looks like from the perspective of an animal who has never seen anything beyond the walls of her cage. Suddenly, I was filming as police seized a crated beagle from a rescue van, and, over the furious objections of activists, pulled the terrified dog out of the crate and into a sheriff’s cruiser.

  But Marina’s gift is not just recreation; it’s analysis. Her list of reflections on the significance of the Ridglan rescue, at the end of her piece, is well worth reading.

• We’re having a Zoom briefing tonight at 6pmPT/9pmET to give you the latest updates, get your feedback and questions, and also loop new people in. The link is here, but also make sure to sign up for the rescue at savethedogs.io, if you haven’t, and join our WhatsApp community on that site.

• If you’re in NY, join me at Revolutionists’ Night tomorrow in Manhattan. We’ll be discussing the strategy behind the Ridglan rescue—and how we can use it to potentially take animal rights to new heights. Join here!

That’s all for now!