Bản chép lời đầy đủ của Turning Tides: Wounded Knee Occupation: Sovereign Territory, 1970s: Episode 1

resist with the weapons they had on-hand. Their chief, Black Kettle, desperately put up a white flag in surrender; it flapped feebly under the stars and stripes. The white flag was ignored by the bloodthirsty Union army, who went among the dead and dying and scalped them. Chivington lied, claiming five hundred warriors were killed in the “battle.” In reality, twenty-eight old men and boys died defending their families against insurmountable odds; all others who were slaughtered were women and children. The men who were out hunting returned to find their world shattered. They swore vengeance and joined the rebellious tribes of the area to fight against these white supremacists. Following the Civil War, things became even worse for the Indigenous peoples of the area. Philip Sheridan, the unyielding and successful Union commander, took over operations against the plains nations. He infamously said, “The only good Indian is a dead Indian.” At Washita River in 1868, another hundred or more Cheyenne would be butchered by his 7th Cavalry, which was then under the command of George Custer. At Marias, the peaceful Blackfeet tribe, under Chief Heavy Runner, was ambushed by a local fort garrison. Heavy Runner ran forward with his name paper, attempting to explain to the soldiers who he was and that his people were promised government protection. He was struck down along with over 200 other shocked native peoples. The great mass of the Sioux people came together for the first time ever, in a desperate attempt to reverse the fortunes of their people. Their tribal land was being continually whittled away by prospectors and violent colonizers, while their main food source, the buffalo, was being driven to near extinction by over-hunting. Now penned onto reservations, the native peoples saw their way of life being dissolved. Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull, Little Wolf, Dull Knife, and Red Cloud banded their forces together and completely destroyed George Custer and his battalion at the Little BigHorn. In response, congress passed the Indian Appropriation Act in 1876. At the same time, a new spearhead offensive was led by the future “liberator” of Puerto Rico, Nelson A. Miles. He would send troops deep into the Lakota territory, forcing small engagements and causing many of the Lakota to vacate the area and flee to Canada or to surrender outright. By the beginning of 1877, the “Great Sioux Uprising” was over, and the reservation system was warily agreed upon by tribal chiefs. The government promised this was how peace would reign and that there would be no more violence against sovereign Indigenous territory… as long as the Sioux gave the government the Black Hills, the Lakota holy land; if the Sioux did not agree, any federal funding which was promised would not arrive. The Lakota leaders claimed they had no clue what they were giving away, and the federal officials quickly left, claiming the rights of over 22 million acres in South Dakota. In 1888, the government interfered once more in native aff airs and divided the Lakota reservation into 6 separate reservations. During this time, the “Ghost dance” became exceedingly important to native peoples in the area. The weary and subjugated Lakota-Sioux found a glimmer of hope in an ocean of sorrow and desolation, and they clung to it furiously. The movement soon garnered militant followers, who dressed in “ghost shirts,” which would defend them against white bullets, while making their own fire deadly. The dances grew in size, and tribes would congregate from all around to participate in the religious ceremony. While they were technically protected from any government interference due to the first amendment, the ghost dance frightened many white authorities on the reservations. Frenzied telegrams arrived from panic-stricken western officials. One telegram says, “I have fully informed you that employees and government property at this agency have no protection and are at the mercy of these dancers.” Then, news arrived that Sitting Bull was attempting to take part in the Pine Ridge Reservation Ghost Dance. Proverbial alarm bells rang. Police were sent in to arrest Sitting Bull before he could participate. The villagers in the Standing Rock reservation became incensed at the federal officials who were attempting to subdue the famous “conqueror of Custer,” as many of these officials were native themselves. A shot was fired at a police officer; in response the police killed Sitting Bull where he stood, shooting him in the chest and head. In the ensuing fire, over a dozen police and native peoples were killed, and several more were wounded. Upon hearing of the Hunkpapa leader’s death, over 340 natives – under Big Foot –- sought refuge in the Pine Ridge Reservation. A few days after Christmas, these native peoples were intercepted by the infamous 7th Cavalry. They were herded into a bend in the Wounded Knee Creek. The soldiers demanded the firearms of the entire tribe. Apparently, only white citizens are allowed to brandish firearms without consequence. But regardless of that, this tribe needed their firearms to hunt so they would not all starve in the harsh winter ahead. Scuffles soon erupted between the terrified and cowed natives and the cruel blue coats. A shot was fired – to this day, we don’t know by whom. It may very well have been an accidental discharge. Regardless, this was all the Blueclad warriors needed to begin shooting. Shrapnel shells from artillery and the newest designs in firearms turned this so-called “battle” into a complete massacre. Women, children, and the elderly died in the snow. One account claims a baby was still breast-feeding on her dead mother’s milk. American soldiers went berserk; they tracked women for up to two miles in the snow, only to shoot them down. They called out that those who stepped forward would be spared; those that did were executed by the ready-and-willing firing squad. Twenty Medals of Honor were handed

out to those soldiers who performed “admirably” in the “battle.” Ninety Lakota warriors were dead, along with thirty-one United States soldiers, many of the latter being killed by friendly fire. Over two hundred of the Miniconjou natives were felled by government bullets. The “battle” was glorified by the United States press; they came out to take pictures of the bodies and the soldiers who committed these crimes. In 1892 Sitting Bull’s horse was brought before the Chicago World's Fair, draped in an American flag, in celebration of the “glory” of American armed forces over the “savages” at Wounded Knee. Wovoka was repulsed that his teachings led to so much violence; he traveled to many reservations, attempting to preach non-violence, but the Ghost Dance was outlawed across America and Canada. He died ignominiously and is buried in Schurz, Nevada. Before the rifle barrels of the 7th Cavalry were even warm, Congress had been hard at work attempting to assimilate the native tribes. They felt the culture, religion, and way of life of the natives was “completely backward.” The government never considered that they, perhaps, should look in a mirror. Instead, they gave 160 acres of land to the heads of native households and told them to learn to become farmers; additionally native peoples were supposed to convert to Christianity, stop speaking their languages, enroll their children in state schools, and cut their hair. On these same reservations, however, there was rampant unemployment, crime, and alcoholism. The government did little, if anything, to correct these wrongs, usually blaming natives for these trauma-induced reactions to white supremacy. More native people moved to the towns or big cities to attempt to make a living. There, they ran headlong into racism and police brutality. Many older people kept up their traditional ways and religions, turning the reservations into cultural homelands for the native diaspora. There were initial stirrings towards native rights and the fulfillment of treaties. These stirrings were little more than a “nuisance” to the United States government, who essentially had everything they wanted from the native tribes already. The government also continued to give away large tracts of land in allotments to white colonizers, which continued to suffocate the native peoples as they petitioned for every little bit of land they had left. As WWI began native peoples often found themselves fighting at the front for a country that did all it could to erase their existence. They returned to find their farms taken over by their white neighbors. As the Great Depression began to erode the country’s economy, another big change was on the horizon for the native tribes of North America. Previously, major decisions were made via consensus among the tribal leaders; now, Franklin Roosevelt had made democratic organization mandatory for all tribes in the United States. This was all a part of the Indian Reorganization Act or the IRA. This

act, intended initially to “make the native population equal,” was now being used to place white-natives in positions of power over native peoples with no European ancestry. As WWII began, native fighters proved invaluable to the allied cause. The famous Navajo code-talkers used their native language to convey messages to one another, and their code remained unbroken in spite of Japanese attempts to discover their secrets. As a reward, their homeland was strip-mined for uranium and many survived the war only to die from lung disease and cancer later. To this day, the government has not offered a single penny to the veterans and civilians who died so they could build weapons of mass destruction. Following WWII, efforts were made to “emancipate” the native peoples once more, as it was clear the IRA failed to deliver on any of its stated goals. Now all efforts were made to dissociate the United States government from the tribes. Healthcare, infrastructure, jobs, and education were all cut in the paradoxical strategy to “make native peoples self-sufficient.” Now, the few jobs and little land belonged solely to the tribal leaders; they controlled all aspects of life on the reservation. As any job opportunity was off the reservation, thousands moved to urban areas in order to maintain a living. It was the assimilation of the late 1890s all over again, except this time, it didn’t come at the tip of a bayonet, but at the end of the week in the form of a paycheck. In the media, native peoples were portrayed as barbarians and lunatics, where gunslingers like John Wayne would kill dozens of native peoples at a time. However, throughout America a very small minority of people began to speak up about this atrocious treatment and depiction of native peoples. This small group became larger and larger, and as they grew, fear grew in law enforcement agencies like the FBI, which allowed J. Edgar Hoover to monitor “left-wing subversives” with extralegal power. These breaches of civilian privacy are just another example of the government’s fear of retaliation for their own horrific actions manifesting. As the 60s progressed, native peoples living in America found outlets as activists for many causes. Radical politics, the hippie movement, and revisionist history were all the rage. People were challenging the status quo in a large way. The civil rights movement was well underway, while the LGBTQIA+ movement was gaining momentum. During this time, an increasing number of people were also protesting in the hopes of gaining rights for native peoples. There were “fish-ins” in New Mexico in an attempt to guarantee fishing rights, which were now prohibited by state law. In Oklahoma, the Cherokee defied state restrictions of their native hunting grounds. Robert K. Thomas, a native activist and scholar, said the situation was, “...like one big seething cauldron about ready to explode.” In 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, and various rights’ movements were

becoming increasingly agitated that change was not happening sooner. Many began to go above the law to redress their grievances. In 1969, Alcatraz prison was occupied by young native people who asserted that unused federal land was theirs, as stipulated in the 1868 Fort Laramie Treaty. In Minneapolis, Minnesota, four Ojibwe natives – Clyde Bellecourt, Eddie Benton Banai, George Mitchell, and Dennis Banks – were just setting up operations at AIM, or the American Indian Movement. Russell Means would join soon after. AIM was originally founded to help urban Native peoples through social outreach programs and legislative lobbying. They quickly found themselves flooded with complaints about police harassment. This makes sense, considering native peoples made up only ten percent of the city’s population, yet they composed seventy percent of the jail’s population. In response, AIM created “ghetto patrols,” which consisted of native activists patrolling the streets and using police radios to quickly arrive on the scene of reported crimes with cameras, recording equipment, defense attorneys, and even bondsmen. AIM claims they brought down the native prisoner population by sixty percent due to these initiatives. Additionally, they set up their own “survival school,” which taught native language, history, and culture to those who lived on the reservation. Things changed with the murder of Raymond Yellow Thunder in 1972. Two brothers, Les and Pat Hare, assaulted and kidnapped Yellow Thunder, stripped him to his underwear and dumped him in front of the American Legion Club. He staggered out of the club and sought shelter in a used car lot, but after a few days, he died. The two brothers and a third assailant were charged with manslaughter instead of murder. It was later revealed that both brothers were talking about “busting an Indian” prior to committing the crime. AIM mobilized right away, and natives descended on Pine Ridge once more – not for a religious ceremony, but to seek justice. They stood up to authorities and the police and drummed up enough media coverage that the government was now forced to launch a full murder investigation. Conditions on the Pine Ridge reservation were beyond deplorable. The average median income for the natives on Pine Ridge was only $800 annually, while unemployment was over 54%. The few who were able to find work usually found it as police officers or within some form of local government; they were usually native peoples with mixed ancestry, which caused consternation and ridicule from the more traditionalist native peoples, who lived away from the towns. Most atrocious of all were the endemic issues of alcoholism and suicide, leading to an average life expectancy of only forty-six years. This was the state-of-affairs when, in April of 1972, Richard “Dick” Wilson was elected. Almost right away, there was controversy. Wilson refused to call the tribal council for months at a time; instead he governed with a hand-picked “executive council.” Additionally, jobs within local government were being handed out to his family, friends, and supporters. This brought Dick Wilson’s government onto a collision course with AIM. In fact, he made a point to antagonize the group, firing his own vice president because of his support for the group, and hiring men to harass – and even assault – known AIM supporters. Dick’s paramilitary squad came to be known by the name, “goon squad.” In the fall of 1972, AIM had bigger fish to fry. They began a country-wide protest, and Washington D.C. was their final destination. Along the way, they stopped at reservations and picked up supporters en route. This protest was called the, “Trail of Broken Treaties.” When AIM arrived in Washington D.C., they presented their 20-point program to the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) and several White House officials. When talks broke down, AIM members stormed the BIA offices and refused to leave. The standoff lasted sixty days. The Nixon administration wished to avoid a confrontation so close to election time, so the hard-on-crime Richard Nixon promised immunity to the protesters, over $66,000 in travel expenses, and a promise to review the 20-point program laid out by AIM. Behind the scenes, the government designated AIM as an extremist organization and ordered the FBI to shift their attention from the decimated Black Panther Party to these “radical Indians.” In February of 1973, another Lakota man was killed by a white man – this time in Buffalo Gap, near the Black Hills. The defendant, Darld Schmitz, stabbed Bad Heart Bull in the chest with his pocket knife during a bar brawl. When Bad Heart Bull’s mother discovered that the district attorney would only be charging Schmitz with manslaughter, she reached out to the community for aid, and AIM responded. They hired a P.I. who was prepared to testify that Schmitz was “hunting Indians.” The two leaders of AIM, Dennis Banks and the new national director, Russel Means, were in the courthouse discussing evidence with one of the state’s attorneys, when – as Stew Magnuson claims, “...a scuffle began just outside the front door. Police poured down from the second floor, and a riot ensued. AIM members fought back, and the incident ended with two buildings afire, numerous injuries on both sides, and scores of arrests.” This all was said to have occurred outside the Custer Jailhouse. Back on Pine Ridge, the situation was deteriorating. Dick Wilson was having impeachment proceedings filed against him by several members of the tribal council. The disgruntled Oglala Lakota formed OSCRA, or the Oglala Sioux Civil Rights Organization. Believing OSCRA to be merely an extension of AIM, federal officials feared violence in the area, and U.S. Marshals quickly arrived in the dozens, alongside an unknown number of FBI agents. They began an extensive monitoring campaign against AIM leadership and supporters from their base in Sioux Falls. The government had clearly only

exacerbated the protests. Now the protest was against the entire federal government, instead of being aimed solely at the corrupt Wilson administration. It would not be the last time that the government and the FBI made themselves their own worst enemy. At 5:50 PM on February 27th, a caravan of over thirty cars was spotted heading toward Pine Ridge. They rode alone the “Big Foot Trail,” where less than a hundred years previously the Lakota, under Big Foot, stumbled in the snow to their fate. In the words of John William Sayer, “In the minds of many present, Lakota warriors had returned to Wounded Knee.” They stormed into the local trading post and museum. They then proceeded to take the population of the town hostage. This consisted of several older families of mixed ethnicities, but there was also an adolescent child present. AIM supporters raided the trading post for supplies and armed themselves with the weaponry therein. They went about town shooting out streetlights, and destroying the local Lakota museum. Russell Means ordered this vanguard to secure the town, not to destroy and rob, but by the time he arrived, the looting was at an uncontrollable level. The many dozens of Vietnam veterans who were a part of the occupation went about setting up a perimeter. Adrienne Fritze was 12-years-old when the initial marauding began. She lived in a mobile home and was already a survivor of parental sexual assault by her father. Her grandfather owned the local Lakota museum. Although he himself was Ojibwe, he fell in love with Lakota culture and attempted to preserve and keep sacred the many artifacts he had in his possession. He watched helplessly as his life's work was plundered. Adrienne was hustled into the bathroom of her family's mobile home when the occupation first began. An AIM member smashed a back window and demanded that Adrienne’s mother open the door, to which she replied, “You already broke the window. Reach in and open it yourself!” The fear-stricken family was forced into the living room, at knife and gun-point, and not permitted to leave the mobile home. Later, the occupiers claimed that this was for the family’s protection against stray AIM or government bullets. The government's response was quick and unprecedented. The FBI’s Special Agent in charge was Joe Trimbach, and despite being new to the job, he was nominally in control. However, turf wars between departments sprang up quickly. The justice department, the armed forces, and the U.S. Marshals were also present and vying for command. In spite of this, the government and AIM were not the only armed people at Wounded Knee. Wilson’s “Goon Squad '' were given unofficial sanctions to carry weapons and harrass incoming vehicles. Additionally, white ranchers had taken up arms and formed loose militias. The government never considered that any violence would come from the aforementioned groups; they were only focused on AIM. The government took no time in blockading the entire town

from all sides. The AIM supporters with combat experience began constructing bunkers, trenches, and fortifications. AIM said the government had two options, “1. They wipe out the old people, women, children, and men, by shooting and attacking us,” or “2. They negotiate our demands.” It seemed the former was the government's plan; they were armed with high-powered rifles and over fifteen armored personnel carriers. The army was there with the FBI, advising the government how best to destroy the people who stood in the way of their complete control. Inside Wounded Knee, Adrienne Fritze was in shambles. She had a pet horse named Ginger, who was her whole world. She had raised the horse since it was a colt and was rightly in hysterics when she saw an AIM occupier riding and whipping Ginger. Russell Means stepped in and ordered the man riding the horse to get off and promised no more harm would come to the animal. The next morning, however, Ginger had disappeared; more than likely, the animal was butchered, as rations were dwindling inside the besieged town. She was also nearly assaulted by an AIM occupier who had cornered her, but she managed to break away. On March 8th the torment of the largely mixed-native population was over, but the town was completely wrecked. The Lakota museum was overturned and destroyed; only a single chimney was left standing, and the museum's owner, Wilburt Riegert, was dead within the year. Negotiations would begin, only to end abruptly, as both sides chafed in the siege-like conditions. By March 10th, the government pulled back, hoping that many of those inside the village would simply leave. Instead, more showed up, and the tribal leadership of the Oglala proclaimed themselves a sovereign territory, as stipulated by the 1868 treaty. In response, Rogers Morton, Secretary of the Interior, said the government would not and could not negotiate with those inside Wounded Knee and that, “If it was wrong for the European to move on to this continent and settle it by pioneerism and combat, it was wrong. But it happened and here we are.” Yikes. South Dakota Senator George McGovern wanted Wounded Knee stormed by force. Later in March, the firefights between the government and AIM began in earnest. Several intense battles were waged; one such battle in late March saw the discharge of over 2,000 rounds of ammunition. Miraculously, neither side suffered casualties, and both sides accused the other of starting the shooting. March 26th ended the luck for AIM and the government. Lloyd Grimm, a U.S. Marshal had just arrived on the scene when a stray bullet entered his chest, ricocheted off his ribcage, and severed his spine, leaving him paralyzed for the rest of his life. Around this time, the spiritual leader of the occupation, Leonard Crow Dog, began calling for the Ghost Dance to be performed once more. At the same time, he took several BIA postal workers hostage and gave them a lecture on native culture before they were released back to the FBI. Next came the deaths of several native activists, which broke the back of the occupation and their resolve to continue. First was Frank Clearwater. He had just arrived at Wounded Knee with his pregnant wife, when he was killed by a stray bullet that somehow entered his head through the walls of the house in which he was staying. Next, and most disheartening for AIM, was the death of Buddy Lamont. He was stationed at his make-shift bunker when tear gas flushed him out, and he was struck in the chest by a bullet. He said before the incident, “If something happens to me… just bury me in my bunker.” His last wish was followed, and his funeral was presided over by AIM leaders. Perhaps the final blow was the death of Ray Robinson; he arrived at a time when AIM leaders were sure they were being infiltrated by FBI moles. They wrongly believed Robinson was one of these moles, and during a verbal argument a gun was fired, which severed an artery in Robinson’s leg. He would bleed out and be buried somewhere on the reservation, but the whereabouts of his body are still unknown. Years later, his wife would plead for the location of her husband's body at a conference about the Wounded Knee occupation. Her voice would be drowned out by the voices of those attempting to excuse themselves for their illegal behavior during the siege. AIM was right to think they had a mole in their midst, but they never realized who it was. The mole ended up being their own photographer, who collected a thousand dollars a month from the FBI and a paycheck from AIM. Additionally, the FBI was illegally wiretapping any communications in and out of Wounded Knee. Joseph Trembach was denied permission for wire-tapping but went ahead with it anyway and – rather conveniently – forgets doing it. Additionally, the involvement of the military in this situation was illegal. The government had not taken the necessary steps to deem the occupation a “civil disturbance;” therefore, the military had no jurisdiction. Yet, their deployment of recon jets, armored carriers, and armaments might suggest otherwise. Regardless, the loss of Buddy Lamont, the growing friction within AIM leadership, and the lack of provisions were all taking their toll. A group of Lakota elders met with justice department intermediaries and negotiated an end to the occupation. After 71 days, the physical fight for treaty rights and humane treatment was over. Now, the fight would rebase to a federal courtroom. It was here that defense attorneys William Kunstler and Mark Lane would turn the trial against the government, forcing them to acknowledge years-worth of atrocities committed against native peoples. Unfortunately, this case would be muddled beyond recognition due to the United States government’s lack of honesty and accountability, as well as their inept FBI and prosecution. The government and the attorney general's office were already building cases against the leadership of AIM and its prominent

members. Ken Tilsen was the first attorney phoned in connection with defending these men and women. He rapidly mobilized his resources and reached out for aid. The government was also stretched thin for resources, as lead prosecuting attorney R.D. Hurd had to increase his staff and the U.S. Attorney had to finish compiling hundreds of charges against dozens of Wounded Knee participants. At the same time, the National Lawyers Guild, or NLG was answering Tilsen’s call. Dozens of radical and left-leaning lawyers arrived from across the country to defend clients on charges that included conspiracy, unlawful use of a firearm, and interfering with law enforcement. William Kunstler had arrived after being contacted personally by AIM defendants. In the first of the defense meetings, the decision was made to form a defense committee called the Wounded Knee Legal Defense/Offense Committee, or WKLDOC (“Wickle-Dock”), for short. In a previous episode, we discussed the strain on NLG resources; this was due to the fact that the Attica defendants were going to trial around the same time. Alongside Tilsen and Kunstler, the defense called on the abilities of lawyer-turned-best-selling-author, Mark Lane, who famously wrote the book, “Rush to Judgement,” about the JFK assassination report. He collected evidence in relation to charges stemming from the Custer Jailhouse riots the previous year. Len Cavise organized the defense team. In spite of this excellent team, AIM leaders were apprehensive – to say the least. Dennis Banks says, “I was not afraid of a poor defense, but I was afraid that the political struggle would be lost because of now being tied to the courts.” For their part, the defense planned to put the government on trial for their abuses and treatment of native peoples. It would be a political trial which had the chance to backfire, especially if the defense were given an unsympathetic judge and a prejudiced jury. With that in mind, AIM’s most pressing concern was that they be allowed to play an active part in their defense strategies; the information they provided on reservation life proved invaluable to crafting a strong defense. The defense would claim that AIM had no choice, that after being rebuffed and belittled for so long, the occupiers struck out – not to cause violence – but to see that their needs were met. The defense would liken it to the Boston Tea Party and the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. For the prosecution, this was a criminal case – open-and-shut. The politics and cultures involved had nothing to do with obstructing an officer of the “peace.” Judge Fred Nichol would preside over the case, and he agreed with the defense that, based on media coverage and ingrained biases, South Dakota would not be the place that AIM leaders, Banks and Means, would be tried. Instead, St. Paul, Minnesota, would be the place the trials were held. With this win, the defense received another boost from the judge, who approved most of their motions of discovery. From the beginning, Joseph Trembauch’s FBI was at work attempting to gather intel on the defense team. In one instance, the defense team flipped the script on the FBI and were seen photographing detectives and marking down license plate numbers, which is exactly what the FBI had been doing. In response, an FBI agent confronted the lawyers and violently demanded the photos be deleted while he threw another defense team member on the ground. No charges against the agents were filed. In late August of 1973, an event within AIM rocked its foundations. Clyde Bellecourt, one of AIM’s founding members, was shot at point-blank range by Carter Camp, another member of AIM. The bullet just missed Bellecourt’s spine, and many were afraid he would die, but he thankfully recovered. While he lay in the hospital, authorities pleaded with Bellecourt to provide them with any information on Carter Camp. He responded, “I spent 14 ½ years of my life in jail and I won’t put another man in jail if I can help it.” By now, many newspapers were busy discussing the possible end of AIM, as the trials had barely begun. A few weeks later, Pedro Bissonette, one of the leaders of the traditionalists on Pine Ridge was killed by BIA officers during a supposed shoot-out. Four days later, two BIA police officers were wounded by an unknown assailant(s). Violence threatened to engulf Pine Ridge once more. Mass demonstrations were called for, and Dick Wilson promised to use force against any protesters. Russell Means and Vernon Bellecourt were arrested in connection with the Custer Jailhouse riots of 1972. In September, several AIM members were arrested on drug possession charges, and days after being released from the hospital, Clyde Bellecourt was arrested in connection with an old disorderly conduct charge. These events did not keep progressive activists and celebrities away from AIM. They drew thousands of young people to their marches and talks. In one such display, over 3,000 AIM supporters gathered to hear the Black Panther, Angela Davis, speak, while just down the road, the John Birch Society held a rally that could muster barely 200. Meanwhile, the media and the press were split on who was at fault. If you read conservative papers, the Wounded Knee protesters were, “ armed insurrectionists,” or “radical rabble rousers.” If you read liberal news, the “heroic” stance of AIM against the government was akin to a “new Sitting Bull.” Male leaders were idolized as new age revolutionaries, while women leaders were pushed to the back, in favor of the prevailing norms of the era. Native rights were brought to the forefront of national attention. For the first time, conditions on reservations were written about, and senate committee hearings were able to hear first-hand descriptions of state-sponsored poverty and crime. As this happened, Watergate’s first boulders began to fall. It was January 1974 when the trial of Banks and Means vs. the United States began in earnest. For

jury selection, a scientifically-based selection method was used. People were asked questions about their feelings toward native issues and AIM in particular. Kunstler would represent Russell Means, while Lane would represent Dennis Banks. As the jury selection process proceeded, Russell Means took the unprecedented step to run for tribal leadership of Pine Ridge. He would challenge Dick Wilson at the polls over the heart and soul of the Pine Ridge reservation. The election on February 8th, 1974 was contentious and highly publicized. In the end, the final tally was 1,709 votes for Dick Wilson and only 1,530 votes for Russell Means. Many people claimed fraud and bribery won Wilson the election; regardless, Wilson immediately banished AIM and any of their supporters from the reservation. February 12th began with Judge Nichol explaining to the carefully selected jury what was to be expected from opening statements. In a move which was seen as a win for the defense, both Banks and Means were allowed to speak for themselves and later, participate in cross-examination. The trial started with the prosecution's opening statement, which began with the full jury indictment. Then Hurd was given the floor; he claimed the two defendants ransacked the Pine Ridge trading post knowingly and that, from there, they conspired with their associates to injure and impede federal officials who were just “doing their jobs.” For the prosecution, this had nothing to do with civil rights or with treaties signed over a hundred years ago; this was about the law as it stood. Hurd then walked through the events of Wounded Knee and attempted to show that the government's roadblocks were there to “stabilize the situation.” Now it was Russell Means’ turn to speak, and his oratory abilities were on full display. He said, “Hau Mitokayepi. I am Russell Means, an Oglala, Lakota.” He went on to say that this was not the trial of the U.S. v. Banks and Means but, “the United States of America versus the Oglala people and all Indian people.” He would go on to accuse Dick Wilson’s government, the FBI, the Department of the Interior, the BIA, and the U.S. Attorney’s Office of participating in a, “...concerted effort and conspiracy to destroy our culture through the concepts of cluster housing, through the concepts of missionary schools, through the concept of government schools.” Means then attempted to bring up Native treaties with the United States, which caused Judge Nichol to intercede and caution Means. Next, Means painted a picture of Native life for the all-white jury; he compared and contrasted their separate cultures. Saying, “We do not have missionaries to change Crows to Sioux… All living things come from our sacred Mother Earth, all living things… because all living things come from one mother… we have to treat one another with the respect and reverence that we would our own blood… And so the spirituality of the red man is why we welcomed with open arms the man from across the

sea….” He spoke of the loss of Native manhood and the cultural assimilation efforts of the U.S. government since the country's founding. He claimed the “hostages” actually wanted to be there and that they had ample opportunity to leave at any time, while also asserting that the FBI and U.S. Marshals were the ones who were there illegally. He closed by quoting Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce tribe, saying, “Give me the right to choose my own teachers; give me the right to practice a religion of my fathers; give me the right to travel and come and go as I please: give me the right to trade with whom I please, and do business with whom I please: give me the right to follow the ways of my fathers; and I will obey every law or submit to the penalty.” Banks was next. He held a copy of the 1868 treaty aloft and said he thought it was a shame that the jury might never see it, since it was not yet accepted as evidence. He then pled guilty to the charge of demanding the senate investigate his people’s condition. He said he was also pleading guilty of seeking action against the BIA and the Department of the Interior. He then read aloud from a report of the Commission of Indian Affairs dated 1886, “The Indian… must be imbued to the exalting egotism of American civilization so that he will say ‘I’ instead of ‘We,’ and ‘This is mine’ instead of ‘This is ours.’” Banks goes on to claim that the traditionalists on the reservation begged AIM to be there, that it was Washington D.C. who was guilty of obstruction and that the BIA had refused repeated pleas for reform. After one of many explosions from the judge at the defense table, things cooled down. Banks attempted to speak on the controversial “Sun Dance,” a native ritual that involved the piercing of one's skin with hooks. He says of the ritual, “The Sun Dance is a very sacred religious event where men… prove to Mother Earth and all the female objects of this planet, to all female things, that we would like to share some of the pain… some of the pain that our mothers had when we were born. The piercing of the skin is a reminder to me that I truly owe myself to Mother Earth and to all the female things of this planet.” He closes his opening statement by saying, “Wounded Knee represented a last pint or a blood transfusion. It was unfortunate that three Indians have died but they died knowing, and all of us who were at Wounded Knee, and those people who called us to Wounded Knee will go [to] the Spirit world knowing that the unborn generation will be given that opportunity to live the life that they choose and not the life that somebody else dictates.” Opening statements were concluded, and the media was all over the sensational trial. The state’s case hinged on proving that both Banks and Means were responsible for the crimes committed at Wounded Knee during the occupation. Their witnesses would offer short, concise testimony on the basic facts of the case; the state did not spend a long time on these witnesses. Once the defense had its turn, it began an intense cross-examination. Kunstler, and then Lane, would dig into state witnesses, attempting to expose contradictions to their previous testimony. This was the way of the trial for several weeks until Father Paul Manhart’s testimony, when the first major government discrepancies were revealed. A petition signed by a majority of the residents of Pine Ridge was obviously altered from its original copy. When questioned by the judge, agents could not come up with an explanation as to the whereabouts of the original. It was the first sign that the government's “evidence” was shoddily collected at best, and at worst – falsified. The next day, the FBI claimed they had over 5,239 volumes of over 315,900 individual documents detailing “suspicious persons,” some of these files being several pages long, and this was apparently why they could not seem to locate the original document which was pertinent to their trial. The FBI claimed there was no active attempt to alter evidence, and Judge Nichol agreed with them but harshly reprimanded the agency. On top of all this, massive amounts of evidence to which the defense should have been made privy, were not handed over, even after discovery motions had been filed and approved. The main problem with the state's case was that none of their witnesses, nor evidence pointed to Russell Means and Dennis Banks as orchestrators of any violence. There definitely was violence, but how can one associate individual acts of violence with political leaders attempting to protest their rights? It was a difficult case to prove, and it became impossible as more government interference and bone-headedness was revealed to the jury and to the American people. In a particularly tense exchange, Ken Tilsen asked a U.S. Marshal if he felt like the U.S. Cavalry in 1890. Hurd laughingly objected. Means yelled from the defense table, “People were killed in 1890, what is funny?” This nearly ended proceedings for the day, as raucous yelling erupted from both tables. The next government witness was William Leavitt, a nearby rancher who testified on the chaotic looting of the trading post during the first night. On cross, it was revealed that Leavitt was one of the many armed ranchers who wanted, “someone to dynamite Wounded Knee.” To make matters worse, Leavitt was a member of the far-right John Birch Society, which had actively been attempting to influence members of the jury. He also owned over several thousand acres of native land through a lucrative process in which he leased land for only $1 to $10 per acre. For the next few weeks, the trial against Banks and Means became the trial against the government and the FBI, as the court held repeated hearings in regards to alleged wire-tapping. John William Sayer said, “Throughout the hearing the FBI and the prosecutors seemed to be their own worst enemy… a new revelation surfaced every week, until one small infraction – listening to some telephone

conversations on an extension phone – became, like the now famous [Watergate] burglary, a story of intrigue and negligence…” Joseph Pourier testified to restoring telephone services to the Wounded Knee area while also installing a “party line hookup at a government roadblock…” The next witness revealed the written request for the installation was destroyed, and the next claimed he heard Dennis Banks’ voice from a speaker at a government roadblock. Hurd was forced to admit to the knowledge of eavesdropping on the stand. Joseph Trembach took the stand and said he must’ve forgotten that he had signed the order. Righhht. The media was ravenous as they set their sights on the FBI; it was like a second Watergate. Faith in the government was at an all time low. Instead of fessing up to their illegal wire-tapping of the AIM occupation, the government doubled down. Many officials had no clue that wire-tapping was occurring. One agent said that monitoring was necessary in a “state of war.” It was then revealed that mail was being illegally read, even mail between Dennis Banks and his attorney. Quickly, rumors circulated that an informant was in the ranks of the defense. The same government officials associated with the ongoing Watergate scandal were also involved in this case, as they had signed their names on many of the orders given to the FBI during the occupation. Kunstler called it the, “theater of the absurd.” Joseph Trembach took the stand once more after his signature was found on official documents detailing orders for wire-tapping. “Memory fails me – Trembach” was the headline the next morning. Instead of pleading the fifth amendment, Trembach basically pleaded incompetence. To say the FBI had egg on its face was an understatement. Judge Nichol nearly dismissed the case then and there but felt there was not enough evidence gathered through wire-tapping to justify the case being dismissed. However, he said the FBI was guilty of “repeated negligence…” As April ended, violence erupted in a Sioux Falls courthouse. As jury selection was proceeding for several accused of rioting in Custer Jailhouse during 1972, one of the defense attorneys was jailed for refusing to continue the process. A riot began outside the courtroom in response. The next day, many AIM supporters refused to stand for the Judge, who then ordered the courtroom cleared. Police came in swinging with their billy clubs and charged thirteen people with rioting. Back in St. Paul, Judge Nichol was highly perturbed by the prosecution; he felt the court was “having its time wasted” with lengthy hearings about government misconduct. Stating his feelings, he said, “I don’t enjoy trying a case, where I have egg on my face everyday.” After Trembach left the stand for a third time, the prosecution called one of its first valid witnesses, Agnes Gildersleeve. She operated the trading post for years and describes being held hostage by AIM during the first weeks of the occupation. She claims that upon asking why Banks had ordered AIM to attack innocent townspeople, he responded, “You had the food, you had the guns, you had the ammunition, we needed it and we took it.” She says she resents AIM for what they did to her home, which seems fair. In spite of her criticism of AIM she said that Banks actually helped her retrieve a family clock that was looted during the occupation. Means was once again in legal trouble, he had been arrested for his role in the Custer jailhouse riots; as a form of protest, he wore his jumpsuit to court. The next day Means arrived adorned with a sweater reading, “Custer had it coming!” The prosecution was attempting to hold its case together, but their witnesses could never place Means or Banks at the scene committing the crime, or telling anyone to commit crimes. Additionally, another shocking discovery by the defense – this time regarding the military’s involvement – left the prosecution reeling. Judge Nichol was left bewildered; he asked Hurd, “Aren’t you getting kind of tired of explaining your own negligence in some of these matters?” To which Hurd responded, “No, Judge, I’m getting used to it, as a matter of fact.” On May 28th, Banks and Means made their debut as co-councils, with Means cross-examining Everett Little White Man. Means punctuated Everett’s name, “White Man,” with every one of his questions and showed through the state’s witness that all forms of native culture, language, and history were being white-washed or destroyed. In Sioux Falls, contrary to the tense nature of the atmosphere, several of the cases were dismissed without a single witness called. Even for those on trial for non-leadership roles in the occupation, it was clear the government had very little evidence which actually tied defendants to the crimes they supposedly committed. In St. Paul, the trial was defined by an increasingly emboldened defense team. They pushed the boundaries of what was and what wasn’t admissible in cross-examination, causing Judge Nichol to pause proceedings on numerous occasions out of sheer frustration. Kunstler felt this needed to be done to “de-mystify the court… because the judge… to the jury represents something just short of God… if you can show the jury that he’s really just a man… and that he may not be the smartest man in the world.” This was the push and pull of the trial for the next few weeks, until Means was once again arrested, this time for allegedly getting into a fight with staff at a country club. He was there with AIM, investigating claims that the restaurant refused to serve Native peoples. The prosecution was winding down its case, finally touching on the paralyzation of Llyod Grimm. Once again, however, the witnesses the state called forward had no way of connecting Means and Banks to the scene, nor to the shooting. With the prosecution resting, the defense prepared dismissal proceedings, while Judge Nichol dismissed several of the charges against the defendants because of lack of

evidence. Most controversially, Nichol dismissed the charges of obstructing a law enforcement official in pursuance of their duty. The defense had done a tremendous job of making the case about government mismanagement, instead of focusing on the “crimes” of Banks and Means. Now the defense would take the offensive and challenge the government's narrative of events, as well as the government itself. First called to argue on the defense's behalf were two historians and authors, Vine Deloria and Dee Brown. They were responsible for the historical best-sellers, “Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee,” and “Custer Died for Your Sins.” They corroborated what Banks and Means discussed in their opening about Native culture, broken treaties, and the relationship Native peoples have with the land. Following their testimony on these subjects, Frank Kills Enemy, whose grandfather had signed the 1868 treaty, took the stand. After his deposition, was Anita Agnes Lamont, whose son was killed during the occupation; both these witnesses spoke on conditions in the reservation through their own lived experiences. The most important witness for the defense ended up being Gladys Bissonette. She spoke of the abuses of Dick Wilson’s tribal government and the numerous democratic attempts made to impeach Wilson. AIM arriving was a last resort, she said. Her reccounting of the death of her nephew Buddy during the occupation brought many in the courtroom to tears. Buddy’s mother was in the audience when she became overwhelmed and yelled, “It had to be my boy, why did the government have to kill my son?” It brought a close to the first day of defense testimony and more headlines to the trial. Gladys continued her testimony the next day; she said she acted as cook and negotiator with the government and maintains that only Oglalas were allowed to negotiate for their tribe. During her cross, Hurd asked her if there was any evidence or plan to break the law or conspire at Wounded Knee. She responded, “No, we do not know anything about conspiracy. The Indians are guided by the Great Spirit and our sacred pipe… We do not intend to break any laws. We do not intend to commit any crimes. If there’s a crime against looking for justice, where do we go to find justice here in America?” When Hurd confronted her with statistics that showed that Native healthcare had improved, she quipped, “They have plenty of cough syrup and aspirins.” Next Hurd asked her about AIM’s part in the BIA building occupation in Washington. She said, “Well, I think any time any Indian does anything, it comes out in the news media purely strong and purely bad.” Hurd then asked if authorities did not have an obligation to defend federal property, and she responded with her own question, “I would like to know why they would shoot us Indians down just to save a building; take human lives to save a building. How greedy can you get?” Gladys went on to completely wreck the prosecutor, and the defense team decided then and

there to rest their case. There was no way any other witnesses could follow such an accurate, succinct, and powerful testimony. Before closing statements could occur, however, a new witness for the state stepped forward – Louie Moves Camp. He said he was not only at Wounded Knee, but that he also witnessed the leaders orchestrate the alleged crimes and even commit them. It was the star witness for whom the state had been searching. It was a little too convenient, and on cross examination, the contradictions sprang up right away. In one heated exchange Louie Moves Camp said, “You’re trying to put words in my mouth!” to which Kunstler responded, “I think that’s already been done by others.” The witness’s mother was in the audience, and she approached the bench, bewildered, saying, “Your Honor, I want to talk to my son.” Then – looking at her son – she yelled, “What did they do to you so you’re lying?'' She had to be escorted out, and Judge Nichol was furious. He believed this was a ploy designed by the defense. The drama was only beginning. In court the next day, Louie Moves Camp accused Kunstler of trying to confuse him, which led to jeers from the courtroom, causing Judge Nichol to clear the courtroom of anyone with the AIM insignia. The next day, a visibly agitated Nichol had Marshals remove an entire row removed for laughing at the witness's testimony. A scuffle ensued, and two people were maced. Kunstler was furious and made his feelings plain. At this outburst, Nichol asked if he would like to join those in police custody, at which Kunstler threw his pencil down and shouted, “I don’t care whether I do or not, Judge.” Lane followed his co-council saying, “Take me away.” The weekend passed, and on Monday, more sober heads prevailed. Both the judge and the defense team expressed regret at their role in the disturbance, and Louie Moves Camp was back on the witness stand. The defense claimed it had two witnesses who were able to place Louie Moves Camp in California for the majority of the Wounded Knee occupation. They also claimed that he had become a star witness in order to receive a pardon for the five felonies stacked against him. To make matters worse, it was revealed he had been accused of rape AFTER being brought into the custody of the FBI. In response to these rumors, FBI agents told Moves Camp, “not to worry about it.” The rape in question was of a teenager, and her complaint was never looked at again. As if the FBI couldn’t look worse at this point, a truly comical episode transpired in court. During the interrogation of a witness, Kuntsler noticed a door on the side of the courtroom that was opening and closing slightly. He pointed this out to the judge and pulled the door open. Two FBI agents proceeded to stumble out into the courtroom, doing their best Abott and Costello routine. Closing this saga, Louie Moves Camp’s wife, Gaylene, testified before the court that her husband was only in Wounded Knee for a week and spent the rest of the occupation in California fundraising for AIM. She also claims Moves Camp told her that the FBI was going to clear his record, get them a house, and spending money. It was an explosive end to the trial. Even non-leadership trials in Sioux Falls were going extremely poorly. Most of the 120 suspects had their charges dropped or were acquitted. On September 10th R.D. Hurd was stepping up to the podium to deliver his closing remarks. John William Sayer said he was “doubtful that he could still obtain a guilty verdict on any of the charges, but a deadlocked jury would allow him to try the case again; a second trial… could still result in convictions of the two AIM leaders.” Hurd thanked those present and reminded the jury of their responsibilities, saying, “This case, believe it or not, is a criminal case, and the issue in a criminal case is the guilt or innocence of these defendants… Our system, our court, has spoken in this regard, and has come down and said no, you cannot commit crimes to right wrongs or to bring about some sort of ultimate good… the law does not recognize religious and moral convictions or some higher law as justification for the commission of a crime no matter how noble that motive may be… the defendants not only were members of the conspiracy, they were leaders of the conspiracy… You cannot terrorize innocent people, you cannot steal from innocent people, you cannot seize communities… because you think that you have a legitimate complaint. That’s anarchy, ladies and gentlemen… The theory that the end justifies the means is as old as history, but every civilized country has rejected it… under the laws of this nation you cannot commit crimes… I don’t care, and I submit to you it doesn’t make any difference if conditions on the Pine Ridge Reservation are good or bad… I don’t care if the 1868 Treaty was violated or not violated.” He then claimed the jury had two choices: acquit these two, or follow the letter of the law. Hurd closed by saying, “I submit to you that you really don’t have two choices.” Fellow prosecutors summed up the case further, explaining the fire-fights and lootings, the assaults, and the conspiracy charges against the two defendants. The defense was next; they summed up their argument by reminding the jury that the state could not produce one single valid witness who was able to place Banks or Means at the scene of any crime. They called into validity the entire court proceedings and claimed that Joe Trembach had committed perjury on the stand when he lied about his knowledge of the illegal wire-tapping. Kunstler would rap up the proceedings saying he was, “privileged to have sat in on history.” He went on to compare the burgeoning Native civil rights movement to the early labor movement in America; there, too, people had done “illegal” things in order to gain their rights. He then railed against the conspiracy charge, saying it was, “the law that has always been used against all sorts of movements… The

theory of conspiracy is that if you find these things were done, there must have been an agreement to do it.” The events of Wounded Knee, he argued, were a protest that was turned into a siege because of government involvement, and that it was a last resort for the long-disenfranchised and abused Native peoples. He goes on to say, “What really else was there to wait for, the next election so more babies could die in the hospital? Wounded Knee was not a revolution, but it was an attempt to secure some reason for remaining alive… Every word said by the prosecution against these two men and the people they stand for has been said about everyone down the long range of history. Everyone has been so condemned who stands up. It is difficult, it is dangerous, it causes death, as it has been in this case, to two young Indians, but it is the way the world changes. Those who never speak never bring about change. Those who never act continue the same dreary path. Those who follow are those who go down in chains eventually, and all of us with them… You have a role in that… to judge whether these men are felons and should be sent to jail… There is a fighting chance for something decent in this world and it will not come by sending these men to prison.” Kunstler finished his remarks by reading a stanza from the Stephen Vincent Benet poem, “American Names,” and by saying, “These men are in your hands, take good care of them, they are my brothers.” Hurd was furious and delivered a two-hour-long rebuttal against the defense's attempts to turn the meaning of this case into something more. In his rebuttal, he compared AIM to a, “bunch of hoodlums,” and accused the defense of making him seem like a, “heartless beast.” He then called the prospect of the defendants being found not guilty, a “tragedy.” After eight months of trial, the jury finally left for deliberations. The strain on the jurors was obvious; one juror was hospitalized because of the stress. The prosecution hoped this would lead to a mistrial and refused to allow the trial to proceed with eleven jurors, even though this is entirely valid. Hurd’s problem is that he directly spoke to the press about his intentions to seek a mistrial, allowing him to try the case again. This infuriated Judge Nichol who tried privately to get Hurd to accept the outcome of the eleven-person jury. Hurd refused, at which point the defense put forward a motion to dismiss charges based on military interference in a civil disturbance and Hurd’s breach of ethical prosecutorial guidelines, as he was blatantly seeking conviction over justice. On September 16th, Judge Nichol told the court he was dismissing the charges against Banks and Means because of misconduct on the prosecution's part, claiming serious negligence by the state and state attorneys. He concluded his decision by saying, “I’m rather ashamed that our government was not represented better in the trial of this case.” There was jubilation that the trial, which had lasted

so long and sucked so many resources from AIM, was finally over. Celebrities were out in droves, including Marlon Brando and Harry Belafonte. In Pine Ridge, Dick Wilson called the decision “ridiculous… [the judge] must have joined AIM.” The only prosecutor to get convictions against AIM used it to launch a political campaign in the state, and South Dakotans overwhelmingly voted for him. Meanwhile, both head prosecutors were named two of the “outstanding Assistant U.S. Attorneys in the nation…” and later named federal judges by right-wing Governor Kneip. Banks likened this to the government handing out medals of honor for the butchering of women and children in 1890. In mid-October 1974, the government finally secured convictions against four people on charges of conspiracy in connection to the Custer riot. One so charged was Sara Bad Heart Bull, who was there protesting the death of her son when the riot exploded. The rest of the trials against AIM were not high profile, and they found themselves lacking the necessary funds to defend the men and women accused of so many crimes. Meanwhile, the tribal elections which had taken place during the trial were re-run, as the Civil Rights committee found that a third of the votes were, “improper.” The results of the second election were similar, with Means losing by only two hundred votes. Throughout the country, Native peoples were finally being heard by the media. In Gresham, Wisconsin, Menominee peoples seized a monastery they claimed was illegally on their land. Down south, Navajo natives forcibly seized a building in New Mexico to draw attention to poor healthcare on reservations. On Pine Ridge however, conditions were worse than ever. Unemployment soared to over 70%; the 25 million in federal money which was supposedly making its way to the reservation was never utilized to aid its citizens. On April 26th, 1975 the Eighth Circuit Court of Appeals upheld the dismissal of the case by Judge Nichol; Banks and Means were officially free of any wrong-doing pertaining to Wounded Knee. AIM, however, was dying a violent death; infighting and the constant fear of infiltration by the FBI hung over the group like a pall. They had reason to be wary, COINTELPRO had ended in 1971, but its tactics were on full-display in groups like AIM and the Black Panther Party. On June 2nd, the government secured its highest profile convictions yet. After a short trial, a jury convicted Carter Camp, Stan Holder, and Leonard Crow Dog of kidnapping and conspiracy. It was the beginning of the end of AIM. Dennis Banks was on trial for his part in the Custer Jailhouse riots, and on June 26th a gun battle erupted on the Pine Ridge reservation. As the smoke cleared, two FBI agents lay dead alongside an AIM supporter. The shooter was supposedly Leonard Peltier. His innocence or guilt is still in question, but he was found guilty of the murder charges and is currently serving a life sentence. In another incident involving AIM, Russell

Means was shot by a BIA policeman and assaulted by “goon squad” members. Next, AIM was accused of detonating bombs at the Mount Rushmore Visitor Center and the BIA office in Alameda. Violence swept the plain towns of the reservations. Over fifty violent deaths occurred between 1973 and 1976, the most high-profile being the death of Anna Mae Aquash. She was suspected of being an FBI informant, so low-ranking AIM members kidnapped her, raped her, shot her in the back of the head, and dumped her body in a ravine. Some, like Joseph Trembauch, have accused AIM leaders of orchestrating and ordering her death, though there is no evidence supporting this. Regardless, Pine Ridge was likened to a war zone, and explosions even rocked the local BIA office. Marshals and federal officials were a constant presence on the reservation. Dick Wilson still ran the show from the town, but he would eventually be removed from office – not because of his paramilitary forces or because of his corruption, but because he lost the next election in a landslide. It was the start of a decidedly new era in Native relations with the American government. People were realizing, through the persecution of groups like AIM, that their voice, too, could easily be taken away if the government wanted it badly enough. Today, Native peoples still struggle to come to grips with this violent revolutionary occupation. On Pine Ridge, many young Natives are forced to choose AIM or Goon at an early age, and this choice can define your treatment. Indeed, how you feel about the occupation at Wounded Knee, and even the history you read is skewed by the modern lenses of left-wing v. right-wing politics. Joseph Trembauch is a prime example. Following his ousting from the FBI, he devoted his life to taking down AIM and is well known for his book, “The American Indian Mafia.” This type of literature is dangerous to any who seek a true depiction of events. With that in mind, I want to say thank you to everyone who has listened to the podcast. I’m super grateful to you all. In researching Wounded Knee, it’s become exceedingly more apparent that the government will do anything and everything to protect what it views as an asset, though they refuse to protect the people living on their land, and in fact, they are willing to kill to obtain the resources of those who live on the land. It’s hard to imagine a worse way to deal with an “armed insurrection,” than the way the United States chose to deal with Wounded Knee. Pentagon papers released following the event called it, “an Indian issue and an Indian attempt at self determination.” The United States government is completely hands-off when it comes to the ineptitude of law enforcement agencies and multi-billion dollar companies in which they have vested interests, but when it comes down to poor people or “minorities” attempting to fix their own problems or trying to get any type of retribution for the sins sanctioned by the government, funnily enough, the government gets incredibly authoritarian. It’s not just with Native peoples, although Native peoples were the first to face the wrath of white colonizers in America; there is rampant oppression and violence committed against Asian, Black, and Hispanic Americans, Women, and LGBTQIA+ rights activists, well into today. This is a common thread for governments throughout the world, the United States being no exception. Just recently, labor rights have begun to be chiseled away to meet the “needs of the market.” This line of thought has been used to justify inhumane treatment for centuries, and it's time someone seriously challenged that societal norm. Labor is more important than any amount of capital because labor is tangible, while capital is a concept. With this in mind, following a short break, Turning Tides will be returning with a massive, season-long series on July 11th, detailing the American Labor Movement from its inception in post-Civil War America, the attempted crushing of the movement in the first and second Red Scares, and the issues facing the Labor movement today. I hope you’ll join me then for, “Links in the Chain,” the final series in our first year of “Turning Tides.” I’m your host, Joseph Pascone. Thanks for listening, and if you enjoyed the show, please rate and review it.