motherjones--2020-07-09--A Town in the Heart of Trump Country Learned to Love Immigrants. Then COVID Hit.

The transformation from fowl to meat begins with carbon dioxide .
The gas knocks the turkeys out ; a blade finishes the job .
It ’ s all surprisingly clean , down to the vacuums that suck out their lungs .
Stripped of organs and feathers , the line of identical denuded carcasses splashes into a cooling bath .
The work is monotonous , but the workers are markedly diverse .
They hail from Brazil , China , the Dominican Republic , El Salvador , India , Nepal , South Korea , Vietnam , Puerto Rico , and the Micronesian @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the 1,200 employees are Karen , members of an ethnic group from Myanmar ( historically known as Burma ) whose families came to the United States as refugees .
Their presence in Huron , South Dakota , 8,000 miles from their homeland , is an accident of history that has revived a dying city .
Just before the turkey plant opened in 2005 , about 97 percent of kids in Huron schools were white .
Today , just over a third of kindergartners and first graders are white .
In 2018 , the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ abroad and Puerto Rico , as a share of its 18,800-strong population , than any other place in the United States .
In less than 15 years , the community has gone through a demographic transformation that usually takes generations .
This is the story of how Huron—the only sizable town in Beadle County , which Donald Trump carried by 37 points in 2016—became not only a magnet for immigrants but a place where they are celebrated .
It ’ s the story of how the deepening divide over immigration can break down @ @ @ @ @ @ @ how a small town in a red state embraced change when the alternative was decline and decay .
It ’ s also a complicated story .
More than half of frontline meatpackers are immigrants , according to a Center for Economic and Policy Research analysis , and roughly 80 percent are people of color .
Relatively few US-born white people take notoriously grueling jobs in an industry where the average wage is about $ 14 an hour .
For hundreds of first-generation Karen Americans , whose job prospects were often limited by not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the best option available .
It was that reality that made Huron ’ s recovery possible .
But its success was neither immediate nor inevitable : The first Karen ( kuh-REN ) refugees were greeted with wariness , sometimes hostility .
But city leaders were determined to overcome it .
Immigrants and their supporters spoke to churches and clubs to explain how Karen people had been forced out of their homeland .
They patiently answered questions , even the ones about whether the newcomers would eat their neighbors ’ dogs .
The superintendent @ @ @ @ @ @ @ impossible .
Huron ’ s experience provides lessons for the nation , although most Huronites are happy to stay out of the spotlight .
That reticence was on display in November 2018 , when President Trump pardoned two Thanksgiving turkeys , named Peas and Carrots .
They ’ d come from Dakota Provisions , whose chairperson stood alongside the president in the Rose Garden .
“ Love South Dakota , ” Trump said about the state where a crowd at one of his appearances had recently chanted “ Build the wall !
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rescued turkeys had nearly met their end , or the immigrants who would have slaughtered and processed them .
Huron , a town that quietly undercuts so much of the narrative about immigration , was invisible .
Until suddenly it wasn ’ t .
Two months after I visited in January , Huron made news as South Dakota ’ s first COVID-19 hotspot .
As the virus spread through the Dakota Provisions workforce and the local Karen population , it laid bare the inequities that had always lurked behind Huron ’ s immigrant-led @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fame are the state fair it hosts each September and the world ’ s largest pheasant sculpture ( 28 feet high , made from 22 tons of steel and fiberglass ) .
Local heroes include Cheryl Ladd , who went on to play one of Charlie ’ s Angels , and Hubert Humphrey , who worked at his dad ’ s drug store on Huron ’ s main drag before becoming a Minnesota senator and vice president .
But Huron is not white Americana in amber : Alongside the old mom-and-pop standbys are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and grocery stores providing a new sense of vitality .
Huron ’ s status as a meatpacking town began to change when the Armour plant shut down in 1983 after workers rejected a pay cut .
Paul Aylward , who served as Huron ’ s mayor until June , remembers being shocked at his first paycheck when he started working at the plant in 1968 .
At about $ 120 for the week , it was similar to what he ’ d been making each month in the military .
By the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was earning nearly $ 30 an hour in today ’ s money .
He ’ d go on to lead the state ’ s AFL-CIO , but the era of high union wages in meatpacking was fading away .
Huron lost another meatpacking plant in 1990 and then another seven years later .
The day of the 1997 closure of a hog slaughtering operation that employed 850 people became known as Black Thursday .
The town ’ s population declined from around 14,000 in 1970 to less than 12,000 in 2005 .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 200 students per grade , now had barely 100 in the lower grades .
Huron ’ s revival began with the Hutterites , an Anabaptist group that shares roots with the Mennonites and the Amish and whose members live in isolated communities , called colonies , across South Dakota .
Many Hutterites , who speak a language derived from 18th-century German dialects , are turkey farmers .
Rather than send their turkeys to be slaughtered out of state , 44 colonies came together to form Dakota Provisions .
In 2004 , the new @ @ @ @ @ @ @ plant in Huron that would employ up to 1,000 people .
A headline in the Sioux Falls Argus Leader summed up the importance of the news : “ Huron : from Gloom to Boom.
” The challenge was how to get people to work in Huron , which is a 120-mile drive from the nearest major airport , in Sioux Falls .
The task fell to Dakota Provisions ’ human resources director , a Huron native named Mark Heuston , whom everyone calls Smoky .
A white-bearded bear of a man—the pelt of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ splayed across the wall of his office—Smoky resembles a muscled Santa Claus , a role he has sometimes filled at local Christmas events .
Smoky had experience with refugees from Southeast Asia ; he ’ d worked with Hmong people from Laos at a meatpacking plant in Wisconsin .
When it came to finding out about the Karen , he said , “ Truthfully , I got lucky.
” He knew that the Twin Cities had among the country ’ s largest Hmong populations .
So in 2007 , as he struggled to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ went to Minnesota to recruit at a Hmong community center .
“ When I was interviewing individuals , I kept walking by this one room with 40 , 50 people in it , ” Smoky recalled .
The people showing Smoky around said not to bother with the people in the room , who were Karen ESL students , since he was there to recruit Hmong workers .
“ I don ’ t care what nationality they are , ” Smoky told them .
He knew nothing about the Karen , but it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wanted a job , there was one waiting for them in Huron .
Tha Gerh “ Tiger ” Paw , her six siblings , and their parents were the first Karen family Smoky recruited to live in Huron .
In 2005 , they ’ d migrated from Bangkok to St. Paul after fleeing what was then the world ’ s longest-running civil war .
During World War II , the Karen , some of whom had converted to Christianity , fought alongside the British against the Japanese and Burma ’ s Bamar ethnic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a nation of their own after the war .
Instead , the British government established a united Burma in 1948 , and civil war broke out .
Of the roughly 5 million Karen in Burma , hundreds of thousands fled the Burmese military ’ s attacks into the jungle and across the border into Thailand .
By the late 1990s , nearly 100,000 were living in refugee camps in Thailand .
Paw , now an employee of the South Dakota Department of Labor , was about 8 and hiding with her family in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ village .
“ We ’ re going to run , ” her father told her .
The troops opened fire , killing a blind elderly woman .
A friend of Paw ’ s father was shot in the neck , and as he bled out , he told her to leave him behind .
Her family , mostly barefoot , managed to escape over a mountain .
When her two teenage sisters became ill , her dad carried them .
They walked for two and a half days without food before reaching a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to Bangkok , where they would spend five years waiting for the US government to vet their application to resettle here as refugees .
When Paw came to Minnesota as a 15-year-old in 2005 , she knew essentially no English .
She assumed Huron would be as diverse as the Twin Cities but found that she was the only Karen student at the high school .
Her dad helped recruit some Karen friends from Minnesota to join him .
Those friends brought their friends .
Lah Maypaw Soe , founder of Huron ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the town ’ s Karen population now at about 2,500 .
On Soe ’ s first day in Huron in 2009 , she and her three kids played outside , devouring the snow she ’ d dreamed of seeing while growing up in a Thai refugee camp .
A white woman who was driving by yelled at them to stop eating it .
In refugee orientation sessions in Thailand , Soe had been told that some Americans wouldn ’ t welcome them and that she should respond with patience and kindness .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ neighbors meant when they said “ fuck you , ” so she initially replied with a polite “ thank you.
” When she got a job as a caseworker at Lutheran Social Services , someone left a note on the office door threatening to cut off her leg if Karen people kept coming to town .
Rather than withdraw , she tried to educate her neighbors .
After many nights spent learning English , she began a campaign to explain what had driven Karen people to the United States .
She spoke to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ local Democratic and Republican groups , church ladies—and answered all their questions .
Why can ’ t you live in your own country ?
Are you legal immigrants ?
Are you going back ?
Smoky did his own presentations .
He addressed groups like the Elks and Sertoma clubs , since elderly residents were the most critical of the new immigrants .
At first , he was frequently asked about cats and dogs “ disappearing.
” No , Smoky would say , Karen people aren ’ t eating them .
They may have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ refugee camps , but that was because there wasn ’ t enough food .
What about the fish tanks in their basements ?
The live chickens in their cupboards ?
Smoky assured them that he visited Karen people ’ s homes all the time .
No basement fish , no cupboard chickens .
If he heard a new rumor spreading , he ’ d ask Karen people about it .
Then he ’ d address the rumor at the next meeting before he was even asked about it .
On a typical day @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for the Karen Association from 8 a.m. to 11 a.m. , works a full shift at a center for people with disabilities from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. , and does another half-shift at a clinic , before returning home well after midnight .
Her eldest daughter , Mu Mu , who was born in the refugee camp when Soe was 15 , is distressed that her mom ’ s hair is already going gray .
If a Karen person needs money , she goes door to door soliciting donations from members of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ But Soe ’ s ambitions extend beyond South Dakota .
Her eventual goal is to split time between Huron and Thailand so she can help people who remain behind in the camps .
She ’ s already taken Mu Mu , now a rising high school senior , back to visit .
Schools are often where the veneer of tolerance is torn off .
As decades of opposition to busing have made clear , many white parents who say they ’ re open to diversity revolt as soon as they think integration is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a similar path .
Laura Willemssen , Huron ’ s middle school principal , remembers when Tiger Paw and her siblings started school .
Karen kids who couldn ’ t read were arriving in Huron fresh out of refugee camps .
But the middle school was committed to keeping ESL students in the same classrooms with native speakers .
Local parents weren ’ t pleased .
There were four elementary schools in town , and they quickly self-segregated : As immigrant kids began to populate the schools on one side of town , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to schools on the other side of town , or out of the district entirely .
Superintendent Terry Nebelsick decided that Huron wasn ’ t going to be a place with “ poor sections and rich sections.
” Nebelsick says he was guided by “ agape ” love , a Greek term for the universal and unconditional devotion modeled by Jesus .
In 2011 , he and his staff arrived at a radical solution : They would replace the four elementary schools with three new schools .
One would serve all of Huron @ @ @ @ @ @ @ another would cover second and third grades , and the last would be fourth and fifth .
Instead of starting out segregated , kids in Huron would grow up in the same schools .
The plan faced obstacles , starting with the $ 22 million price tag .
Its supporters promoted a ballot measure to secure a bond issue .
It would require a two-thirds majority to pass .
Huron residents were being asked to tax themselves in part to pay for school integration .
Nebelsick and the measure ’ s backers talked @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a point of showing respect to those who disagreed .
A citizens ’ committee promoting the measure adopted an unlikely tag line in a county that then-President Obama lost by nearly 20 percentage points : “ Yes we can.
” The measure wound up getting 72 percent of the vote .
Thanks to the new immigrants , the number of babies born each year in Beadle County nearly doubled between 2005 and 2015 .
To accommodate the growing student body , Huron schools have added about 115 employees .
The elementary school band @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to more than 100 , while the soccer team , whose players are predominantly Latino and Karen , nearly won a state championship .
“ The legacy of Huron is that if South Dakota is going to prosper—if its cities are going to be here for the next century—we ’ re not gon na look like we did 100 years ago , ” Nebelsick said .
“ We ’ re gon na look like the world.
” As Huron became known for its immigrant population , opposing crowds at high school games would @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Huron.
” It was meant as an insult , but the town ’ s kids came up with a chant of their own : “ We are Huron !
” “ I think people come to Huron and say , ‘ Look at the diversity , ’ ” Willemssen said .
“ I don ’ t see the diversity as much anymore .
I just see our kids.
” Two of her students took me on a tour of the middle school .
We stopped in on a girls ’ choir class .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ write about immigration , the teacher asked her students born outside Huron to share where they were from .
The first responses—Illinois , Florida , New Jersey—weren ’ t what she was looking for .
“ Okay , that ’ s very cool , ” she said .
“ Internationally , where do we come from ?
” Thailand .
Cambodia .
Malaysia .
Vietnam .
“ We ’ re quite a melting pot , ” she said .
Then the girls launched into a tune .
“ Now let us all sing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of peace , peace , peace on earth.
” No place , of course , is a blissful chorus .
Just before I got to Huron , two Karen residents , ages 17 and 21 , were arrested for allegedly shooting at ( and missing ) a police officer .
A white Huron man responded to the news on Facebook by writing about immigrants , “ GET THEM OUTTA OUR STATE AND COUNTRY.
” But on a platform not known for moderation and restraint , the vast majority of commenters made no mention @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Aylward said none of the people who called him about the shooting brought up immigration .
I ’ d come to Huron in January to observe its 10th annual celebration of the Karen New Year .
Several hundred people , mostly Karen , attended a ceremony that felt like a cross between a pageant and a civics lesson , with troupes of boys and girls performing Karen dances and songs interspersed with upbeat speeches from Soe and Aylward .
Smoky , who , like the mayor , was wearing a Karen tunic , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Karen people in the audience .
He said God had called on him to discuss two emerging problems in the Karen community : drugs and suicide .
He made clear that the issues weren ’ t unique to Karen people , but he worried that parents weren ’ t spotting the signs of drug dealing and weren ’ t taking advantage of mental health services .
A Karen worker at Dakota Provisions , who requested anonymity , later told me that he felt it painted his community with an overly broad brush .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ said when a white person does something wrong , he explained .
A banquet of Karen samosas and noodles restored the mood .
The food was prepared with the white attendees ’ spice-averse palates in mind , but there were also McDonald ’ s burgers stacked on the tables just in case .
Smoky had introduced me to the crowd during his speech , and an older white woman stopped by to chat .
She intimated that she ’ d been opposed to the immigration at first but had eventually come around to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a chance to ask why .
In 2012 , the Burmese government reached a cease-fire with Karen separatists , ending a 63-year civil war .
The number of Karen refugees arriving in the United States has plummeted in the last decade , falling from more than 12,500 in 2008 to 1,658 last year .
There is no longer a steady stream of Karen people for Smoky to bring in , and many of the original recruits have moved on to jobs at other local businesses .
At the turkey plant , I spoke @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is grooming to replace him when Smoky retires in three years .
Luque , a Panamanian who came to the United States to play college baseball , said he couldn ’ t blame young Americans for not wanting to work in meatpacking .
It ’ s repetitive and gory work .
One job involves removing turkeys ’ testicles , which are then fried and sold at baseball games as “ Fowl Balls.
” One Dakota Provisions job announcement began : “ Kill .
1st Shift Only .
Will be operating gas chamber…Will hang @ @ @ @ @ @ @ going.
” Today , there are people from across the world following in the Karen ’ s path .
In 2000 , just one person moved to Beadle County from abroad or from Puerto Rico .
In 2018 , 499 did .
With fewer Karen people to draw from , Smoky has turned his attention to places like Vietnam and Cambodia , where he recently went on a recruiting trip .
His goal is to bring over families using a visa that provides green cards for up to 10,000 “ unskilled ” workers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an industry that has often relied on unauthorized workers from Mexico and Central America .
Although local leaders don ’ t mention it as much , there is a large Latino population in Huron , too .
Twenty-eight percent of kids in Huron schools are Latino , while 21 percent are Asian .
Latinos are an essential part of the local economy but a less visibly organized presence than the Karen .
As refugees , Karen people quickly got green cards .
Latinos in Huron often have no choice but to remain undocumented @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and the Karen Association lacks a Latino counterpart .
At the high school , a young woman I ’ ll call Florencia told me in Spanish that she ’ d come to the United States in 2016 from a 500-person Guatemalan village where many lacked electricity and running water .
After crossing the border alone , she joined a cousin in Huron and was now , at 21 , in her last semester of high school .
She ’ d gained a potential path to citizenship by marrying a Puerto Rican man , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Many others who cross the border do not have that option .
They can work without authorization , but the open life led by Karen refugees is out of reach .
Despite those differences , Florencia and other Central Americans I spoke with said they did not feel discriminated against , even though they were isolated by a language barrier that is fading as a new generation of Latino and Karen kids go through Huron ’ s schools .
I paid a visit to the high school journalism class to lead a discussion @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I played a 2014 clip from a BBC report on refugees in the town , in which a man complained about the Karen arrivals .
“ I have ’ em on both sides of me , ” he said , pointing to his neighbors ’ houses .
“ I ’ ve actually seen ’ em slay a hog in the backyard .
This is a retirement community .
It ’ s very befuddling to see what ’ s happened.
” Hei Say , an easygoing junior who hopes to become an elementary school @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the class .
The man , she said , was her next-door neighbor .
As the class wrapped up , a senior named Bethany brought up a quote from a 2005 Argus Leader article that stated that Huron had a choice : It could accept immigrants or fade away .
“ I think that was the generation before us , ” she said .
“ That was their choice .
It wasn ’ t our choice .
And they chose to accept and move forward and not to decline.
” She continued @ @ @ @ @ @ @ generation ’ s choice to choose to integrate , to combine what we have and combine forces and then keep growing .
We don ’ t want to flatline at the acceptance.
” During the pandemic , there have been signs of what that might look like in practice .
When COVID-19 came to Huron , rumors started spreading that immigrants had brought it to town .
Aylward put out a statement making clear that wasn ’ t the case : All of the 13 cases recorded by late March were among white @ @ @ @ @ @ @ infected , but then the virus appeared to recede , and there were no new cases for more than 40 days .
In May , COVID-19 returned to Huron .
By later that month , the town was battling 122 active infections , the large majority of which were tied to Dakota Provisions and a Jack Link ’ s beef jerky plant south of town .
Blanca Ramirez Gonzalez , a 23-year-old Jack Link ’ s worker and mother of three who came to the United States from Mexico as a child , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ after testing positive .
A GoFundMe page started by her aunt to help support Ramirez ’ s children , who range in age from 1 to 4 , has raised about half of its $ 30,000 goal .
Smoky told me in early June that Dakota Provisions was taking people ’ s temperatures at the start of each shift , requiring masks , and placing partitions between workers on the line and in the cafeteria .
He credited those measures with preventing a massive outbreak .
( The Smithfield Foods plant in Sioux @ @ @ @ @ @ @ infections . )
But the reality of the industry makes it hard to stop the spread .
The Karen worker at the plant who requested anonymity said he thought the plant was doing a relatively good job when it came to protecting people from the virus .
Still , he said , meatpacking means working elbow to elbow .
More than 80 of the plant ’ s roughly 1,200 workers had tested positive by late last month .
As more workers fell ill or were exposed at home to relatives with the virus @ @ @ @ @ @ @ staff .
Tensions rose as the company scheduled those who remained healthy for longer hours and came to a head last month when the plant stayed open for a Saturday shift .
Roughly 100 workers , many of them Karen , decided not to show up as a form of protest .
Smoky responded with an internal memo to staff .
“ Getting together and purposely hurting Dakota Provisions today will hurt the company financially forever , ” he wrote .
“ I do everything I can [ to ] support the Karen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ added , “ When you do something like this , I struggle convincing the owners they should help you .
Dakota Provisions has paid thousands of dollars building homes for you , educating you , paying for your celebrations , soccer tournaments , and recently paying you when you are too sick to attend work .
You have greatly disappointed me !
” It served as a reminder that the Karen community had been coaxed to Huron to fill an economic void .
Their activism threatened to upend the terms of that arrangement @ @ @ @ @ @ @ imagine what it was like for older Karen residents to start work at the plant .
“ You don ’ t speak English and you walk into this place , ” he said .
“ They just ask you to work , work , work .
Do this .
That .
Overwork you .
You want to speak up , but you don ’ t want to lose your job.
” The memo left him “ frustrated ” and “ speechless , ” particularly because Smoky had been there for his community “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an immediate backlash after it was shared on Facebook and covered in the local press .
Young Karen people came to their community ’ s defense .
Rebekah Htoo , whose family had moved to Huron in 2008 , told a South Dakota reporter that she ’ d known Smoky since she was a kid and appreciated what he ’ d done for Karen people .
The problem was the suggestion that people like her parents , who still worked at the plant , owed him something .
“ We were fine before @ @ @ @ @ @ @ him , ” she said .
“ We can be angry and critical , without undermining everything positive that he has done for us.
” Dakota Provisions CEO Ken Rutledge responded by telling workers in another memo , “ Smoky has been told never to allow this situation to happen again .
To those employees who were upset , I humbly and sincerely , apologize.
” Smoky told me in late June that he ’ d apologized in person to all of the Karen workers and that things were mostly back to normal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ slowed down and the work was continuing .
Employees were about to come in again that Saturday for a half-shift to kill turkeys that were born before the pandemic had begun .
The night after the journalism class , young Karen bands played covers of Creedence Clearwater Revival and Guns N ’ Roses on the stage where the new year ’ s celebration had taken place .
I spotted the older woman who had approached me after Smoky ’ s New Year speech .
She told me her name was Emma .
She @ @ @ @ @ @ @ music , she explained that her views on immigration had been reshaped by two Karen girls who visited her church group about five years ago .
Emma brought them over .
One was Khu Kle Shee , an energetic junior .
The other was Hei Say , whom I ’ d met in the journalism class .
I apologized to Say for putting her on the spot with the video of her neighbor .
“ We had a misunderstanding with our neighbors , but it ’ s all right , ” she said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wrong to call the police on them for slaughtering a hog .
“ We were just skinning him , ” she said .
“ The police didn ’ t care.
” Neither of the girls had known their grandparents , and Emma had become an improbable stand-in .
They called her Grandma Emma ; she called them Cookie and Hershey .
“ She ’ s watched us grow up , ” Say said .
“ She ’ s given us a lot of advice .
Relationship advice .
Religion advice.
” “ How @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said .
When they wanted to learn how to bake , Emma taught them .
They made her Karen food , but she couldn ’ t handle the heat .
They laughed as they described other cultural divides .
White people let the apples on their trees go to waste .
They went to all-you-can-eat buffets , then didn ’ t eat that much .
Kids at the high school didn ’ t always get the blunt Karen sense of humor .
“ You ’ re kind of ugly today , ” Karen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ differences could make it hard to be friends with the classmates they sometimes called “ English.
” Say and Shee found themselves caught between their peers and their parents , who worked in meatpacking .
Both girls knew they ’ d never be able to handle that kind of work .
“ If we were there just for an hour , ” Shee said , “ we ’ d collapse.
” Her mom and dad came home with backaches , but the girls weren ’ t exactly sure what their parents did all @ @ @ @ @ @ @ inside the plants .
Shee said she hoped to go someday , but just as a visitor .

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The transformation from fowl to meat begins with carbon dioxide. The gas knocks the turkeys out; a blade finishes the job. It’s all surprisingly clean, down to the vacuums that suck out their lungs. Stripped of organs and feathers, the line of identical denuded carcasses splashes into a cooling bath.
The work is monotonous, but the workers are markedly diverse. They hail from Brazil, China, the Dominican Republic, El Salvador, India, Nepal, South Korea, Vietnam, Puerto Rico, and the Micronesian archipelago of Chuuk. But most of the 1,200 employees are Karen, members of an ethnic group from Myanmar (historically known as Burma) whose families came to the United States as refugees. Their presence in Huron, South Dakota, 8,000 miles from their homeland, is an accident of history that has revived a dying city.
Just before the turkey plant opened in 2005, about 97 percent of kids in Huron schools were white. Today, just over a third of kindergartners and first graders are white. In 2018, the Huron area took in more people from abroad and Puerto Rico, as a share of its 18,800-strong population, than any other place in the United States. In less than 15 years, the community has gone through a demographic transformation that usually takes generations.
This is the story of how Huron—the only sizable town in Beadle County, which Donald Trump carried by 37 points in 2016—became not only a magnet for immigrants but a place where they are celebrated. It’s the story of how the deepening divide over immigration can break down when newcomers are neighbors, not abstractions—and how a small town in a red state embraced change when the alternative was decline and decay.
It’s also a complicated story. More than half of frontline meatpackers are immigrants, according to a Center for Economic and Policy Research analysis, and roughly 80 percent are people of color. Relatively few US-born white people take notoriously grueling jobs in an industry where the average wage is about $14 an hour. For hundreds of first-generation Karen Americans, whose job prospects were often limited by not speaking English, the turkey plant was the best option available. It was that reality that made Huron’s recovery possible.
But its success was neither immediate nor inevitable: The first Karen (kuh-REN) refugees were greeted with wariness, sometimes hostility. But city leaders were determined to overcome it. Immigrants and their supporters spoke to churches and clubs to explain how Karen people had been forced out of their homeland. They patiently answered questions, even the ones about whether the newcomers would eat their neighbors’ dogs. The superintendent restructured the school system to make segregation impossible. Huron’s experience provides lessons for the nation, although most Huronites are happy to stay out of the spotlight.
That reticence was on display in November 2018, when President Trump pardoned two Thanksgiving turkeys, named Peas and Carrots. They’d come from Dakota Provisions, whose chairperson stood alongside the president in the Rose Garden. “Love South Dakota,” Trump said about the state where a crowd at one of his appearances had recently chanted “Build the wall!”
No one mentioned the plants where the rescued turkeys had nearly met their end, or the immigrants who would have slaughtered and processed them. Huron, a town that quietly undercuts so much of the narrative about immigration, was invisible.
Until suddenly it wasn’t. Two months after I visited in January, Huron made news as South Dakota’s first COVID-19 hotspot. As the virus spread through the Dakota Provisions workforce and the local Karen population, it laid bare the inequities that had always lurked behind Huron’s immigrant-led revival.
Huron’s claims to fame are the state fair it hosts each September and the world’s largest pheasant sculpture (28 feet high, made from 22 tons of steel and fiberglass). Local heroes include Cheryl Ladd, who went on to play one of Charlie’s Angels, and Hubert Humphrey, who worked at his dad’s drug store on Huron’s main drag before becoming a Minnesota senator and vice president. But Huron is not white Americana in amber: Alongside the old mom-and-pop standbys are new Asian and Latino churches, restaurants, and grocery stores providing a new sense of vitality.
Huron’s status as a meatpacking town began to change when the Armour plant shut down in 1983 after workers rejected a pay cut. Paul Aylward, who served as Huron’s mayor until June, remembers being shocked at his first paycheck when he started working at the plant in 1968. At about $120 for the week, it was similar to what he’d been making each month in the military. By the time the unionized plant closed, Aylward was earning nearly $30 an hour in today’s money. He’d go on to lead the state’s AFL-CIO, but the era of high union wages in meatpacking was fading away.
Huron lost another meatpacking plant in 1990 and then another seven years later. The day of the 1997 closure of a hog slaughtering operation that employed 850 people became known as Black Thursday. The town’s population declined from around 14,000 in 1970 to less than 12,000 in 2005. The school system, which once had about 200 students per grade, now had barely 100 in the lower grades.
“I don’t care what nationality they are,” Smoky told them. He knew nothing about the Karen, but it didn’t matter. If they wanted a job, there was one waiting for them in Huron.
Huron’s revival began with the Hutterites, an Anabaptist group that shares roots with the Mennonites and the Amish and whose members live in isolated communities, called colonies, across South Dakota. Many Hutterites, who speak a language derived from 18th-century German dialects, are turkey farmers. Rather than send their turkeys to be slaughtered out of state, 44 colonies came together to form Dakota Provisions. In 2004, the new company announced that it would build a plant in Huron that would employ up to 1,000 people. A headline in the Sioux Falls Argus Leader summed up the importance of the news: “Huron: from Gloom to Boom.”
The challenge was how to get people to work in Huron, which is a 120-mile drive from the nearest major airport, in Sioux Falls. The task fell to Dakota Provisions’ human resources director, a Huron native named Mark Heuston, whom everyone calls Smoky. A white-bearded bear of a man—the pelt of an actual black bear he shot is splayed across the wall of his office—Smoky resembles a muscled Santa Claus, a role he has sometimes filled at local Christmas events.
Smoky had experience with refugees from Southeast Asia; he’d worked with Hmong people from Laos at a meatpacking plant in Wisconsin. When it came to finding out about the Karen, he said, “Truthfully, I got lucky.” He knew that the Twin Cities had among the country’s largest Hmong populations. So in 2007, as he struggled to find enough workers around Huron, he went to Minnesota to recruit at a Hmong community center.
“When I was interviewing individuals, I kept walking by this one room with 40, 50 people in it,” Smoky recalled. The people showing Smoky around said not to bother with the people in the room, who were Karen ESL students, since he was there to recruit Hmong workers. “I don’t care what nationality they are,” Smoky told them. He knew nothing about the Karen, but it didn’t matter. If they wanted a job, there was one waiting for them in Huron.
Tha Gerh “Tiger” Paw, her six siblings, and their parents were the first Karen family Smoky recruited to live in Huron. In 2005, they’d migrated from Bangkok to St. Paul after fleeing what was then the world’s longest-running civil war. During World War II, the Karen, some of whom had converted to Christianity, fought alongside the British against the Japanese and Burma’s Bamar ethnic majority. British officers promised Karen soldiers a nation of their own after the war. Instead, the British government established a united Burma in 1948, and civil war broke out. Of the roughly 5 million Karen in Burma, hundreds of thousands fled the Burmese military’s attacks into the jungle and across the border into Thailand. By the late 1990s, nearly 100,000 were living in refugee camps in Thailand.
Paw, now an employee of the South Dakota Department of Labor, was about 8 and hiding with her family in the Burmese jungle when soldiers surrounded their village. “We’re going to run,” her father told her. The troops opened fire, killing a blind elderly woman. A friend of Paw’s father was shot in the neck, and as he bled out, he told her to leave him behind.
Her family, mostly barefoot, managed to escape over a mountain. When her two teenage sisters became ill, her dad carried them. They walked for two and a half days without food before reaching a village. Eventually, they made it to Bangkok, where they would spend five years waiting for the US government to vet their application to resettle here as refugees.
When Paw came to Minnesota as a 15-year-old in 2005, she knew essentially no English. She assumed Huron would be as diverse as the Twin Cities but found that she was the only Karen student at the high school. Her dad helped recruit some Karen friends from Minnesota to join him. Those friends brought their friends. Lah Maypaw Soe, founder of Huron’s Karen Association, puts the size of the town’s Karen population now at about 2,500.
On Soe’s first day in Huron in 2009, she and her three kids played outside, devouring the snow she’d dreamed of seeing while growing up in a Thai refugee camp. A white woman who was driving by yelled at them to stop eating it.
In refugee orientation sessions in Thailand, Soe had been told that some Americans wouldn’t welcome them and that she should respond with patience and kindness. She didn’t know what her neighbors meant when they said “fuck you,” so she initially replied with a polite “thank you.” When she got a job as a caseworker at Lutheran Social Services, someone left a note on the office door threatening to cut off her leg if Karen people kept coming to town.
Rather than withdraw, she tried to educate her neighbors. After many nights spent learning English, she began a campaign to explain what had driven Karen people to the United States. She spoke to anyone who would listen—the Lions Club, local Democratic and Republican groups, church ladies—and answered all their questions. Why can’t you live in your own country? Are you legal immigrants? Are you going back?
Smoky did his own presentations. He addressed groups like the Elks and Sertoma clubs, since elderly residents were the most critical of the new immigrants. At first, he was frequently asked about cats and dogs “disappearing.” No, Smoky would say, Karen people aren’t eating them. They may have eaten wild cats and dogs in the refugee camps, but that was because there wasn’t enough food.
What about the fish tanks in their basements? The live chickens in their cupboards? Smoky assured them that he visited Karen people’s homes all the time. No basement fish, no cupboard chickens. If he heard a new rumor spreading, he’d ask Karen people about it. Then he’d address the rumor at the next meeting before he was even asked about it.
On a typical day, Soe, now 31, volunteers for the Karen Association from 8 a.m. to 11 a.m., works a full shift at a center for people with disabilities from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m., and does another half-shift at a clinic, before returning home well after midnight. Her eldest daughter, Mu Mu, who was born in the refugee camp when Soe was 15, is distressed that her mom’s hair is already going gray.
If a Karen person needs money, she goes door to door soliciting donations from members of the community until she has enough. But Soe’s ambitions extend beyond South Dakota. Her eventual goal is to split time between Huron and Thailand so she can help people who remain behind in the camps. She’s already taken Mu Mu, now a rising high school senior, back to visit.
Schools are often where the veneer of tolerance is torn off. As decades of opposition to busing have made clear, many white parents who say they’re open to diversity revolt as soon as they think integration is hurting their kids. Huron started down a similar path.
“If South Dakota is going to prosper, we’re not gonna look like we did 100 years ago. We’re gonna look like the world.”
Laura Willemssen, Huron’s middle school principal, remembers when Tiger Paw and her siblings started school. Karen kids who couldn’t read were arriving in Huron fresh out of refugee camps. But the middle school was committed to keeping ESL students in the same classrooms with native speakers. Local parents weren’t pleased. There were four elementary schools in town, and they quickly self-segregated: As immigrant kids began to populate the schools on one side of town, white parents petitioned to move their children to schools on the other side of town, or out of the district entirely.
Superintendent Terry Nebelsick decided that Huron wasn’t going to be a place with “poor sections and rich sections.” Nebelsick says he was guided by “agape” love, a Greek term for the universal and unconditional devotion modeled by Jesus. In 2011, he and his staff arrived at a radical solution: They would replace the four elementary schools with three new schools. One would serve all of Huron’s kindergartners and first graders, another would cover second and third grades, and the last would be fourth and fifth. Instead of starting out segregated, kids in Huron would grow up in the same schools.
The plan faced obstacles, starting with the $22 million price tag. Its supporters promoted a ballot measure to secure a bond issue. It would require a two-thirds majority to pass. Huron residents were being asked to tax themselves in part to pay for school integration. Nebelsick and the measure’s backers talked to anyone who had questions and made a point of showing respect to those who disagreed. A citizens’ committee promoting the measure adopted an unlikely tag line in a county that then-President Obama lost by nearly 20 percentage points: “Yes we can.” The measure wound up getting 72 percent of the vote.
Thanks to the new immigrants, the number of babies born each year in Beadle County nearly doubled between 2005 and 2015. To accommodate the growing student body, Huron schools have added about 115 employees. The elementary school band and orchestra have grown from about 25 to more than 100, while the soccer team, whose players are predominantly Latino and Karen, nearly won a state championship. “The legacy of Huron is that if South Dakota is going to prosper—if its cities are going to be here for the next century—we’re not gonna look like we did 100 years ago,” Nebelsick said. “We’re gonna look like the world.”
As Huron became known for its immigrant population, opposing crowds at high school games would yell, “You’re from Huron.” It was meant as an insult, but the town’s kids came up with a chant of their own: “We are Huron!” “I think people come to Huron and say, ‘Look at the diversity,’” Willemssen said. “I don’t see the diversity as much anymore. I just see our kids.”
Two of her students took me on a tour of the middle school. We stopped in on a girls’ choir class. After learning that I was there to write about immigration, the teacher asked her students born outside Huron to share where they were from. The first responses—Illinois, Florida, New Jersey—weren’t what she was looking for. “Okay, that’s very cool,” she said. “Internationally, where do we come from?” Thailand. Cambodia. Malaysia. Vietnam. “We’re quite a melting pot,” she said. Then the girls launched into a tune. “Now let us all sing together,” they sang, “of peace, peace, peace on earth.”
No place, of course, is a blissful chorus. Just before I got to Huron, two Karen residents, ages 17 and 21, were arrested for allegedly shooting at (and missing) a police officer. A white Huron man responded to the news on Facebook by writing about immigrants, “GET THEM OUTTA OUR STATE AND COUNTRY.” But on a platform not known for moderation and restraint, the vast majority of commenters made no mention of the suspects’ ethnicity. Then-Mayor Aylward said none of the people who called him about the shooting brought up immigration.
I’d come to Huron in January to observe its 10th annual celebration of the Karen New Year. Several hundred people, mostly Karen, attended a ceremony that felt like a cross between a pageant and a civics lesson, with troupes of boys and girls performing Karen dances and songs interspersed with upbeat speeches from Soe and Aylward.
Smoky, who, like the mayor, was wearing a Karen tunic, struck a somber tone that irked some Karen people in the audience. He said God had called on him to discuss two emerging problems in the Karen community: drugs and suicide. He made clear that the issues weren’t unique to Karen people, but he worried that parents weren’t spotting the signs of drug dealing and weren’t taking advantage of mental health services. A Karen worker at Dakota Provisions, who requested anonymity, later told me that he felt it painted his community with an overly broad brush. The same things don’t get said when a white person does something wrong, he explained.
A banquet of Karen samosas and noodles restored the mood. The food was prepared with the white attendees’ spice-averse palates in mind, but there were also McDonald’s burgers stacked on the tables just in case. Smoky had introduced me to the crowd during his speech, and an older white woman stopped by to chat. She intimated that she’d been opposed to the immigration at first but had eventually come around to it. She left before I had a chance to ask why.
In 2012, the Burmese government reached a cease-fire with Karen separatists, ending a 63-year civil war. The number of Karen refugees arriving in the United States has plummeted in the last decade, falling from more than 12,500 in 2008 to 1,658 last year. There is no longer a steady stream of Karen people for Smoky to bring in, and many of the original recruits have moved on to jobs at other local businesses.
At the turkey plant, I spoke with Oscar Luque, the man Smoky is grooming to replace him when Smoky retires in three years. Luque, a Panamanian who came to the United States to play college baseball, said he couldn’t blame young Americans for not wanting to work in meatpacking. It’s repetitive and gory work. One job involves removing turkeys’ testicles, which are then fried and sold at baseball games as “Fowl Balls.” One Dakota Provisions job announcement began: “Kill. 1st Shift Only. Will be operating gas chamber…Will hang turkeys on line and keep production line going.”
Today, there are people from across the world following in the Karen’s path. In 2000, just one person moved to Beadle County from abroad or from Puerto Rico. In 2018, 499 did. With fewer Karen people to draw from, Smoky has turned his attention to places like Vietnam and Cambodia, where he recently went on a recruiting trip. His goal is to bring over families using a visa that provides green cards for up to 10,000 “unskilled” workers annually. His approach is unusual in an industry that has often relied on unauthorized workers from Mexico and Central America.
Although local leaders don’t mention it as much, there is a large Latino population in Huron, too. Twenty-eight percent of kids in Huron schools are Latino, while 21 percent are Asian. Latinos are an essential part of the local economy but a less visibly organized presence than the Karen. As refugees, Karen people quickly got green cards. Latinos in Huron often have no choice but to remain undocumented. Attention is not always helpful, and the Karen Association lacks a Latino counterpart.
At the high school, a young woman I’ll call Florencia told me in Spanish that she’d come to the United States in 2016 from a 500-person Guatemalan village where many lacked electricity and running water. After crossing the border alone, she joined a cousin in Huron and was now, at 21, in her last semester of high school. She’d gained a potential path to citizenship by marrying a Puerto Rican man, and they had a 9-month-old daughter.
Many others who cross the border do not have that option. They can work without authorization, but the open life led by Karen refugees is out of reach. Despite those differences, Florencia and other Central Americans I spoke with said they did not feel discriminated against, even though they were isolated by a language barrier that is fading as a new generation of Latino and Karen kids go through Huron’s schools.
“It’s our generation’s choice to choose to integrate, to combine what we have and combine forces and then keep growing. We don’t want to flatline at the acceptance.”
I paid a visit to the high school journalism class to lead a discussion about past press coverage of Huron. I played a 2014 clip from a BBC report on refugees in the town, in which a man complained about the Karen arrivals. “I have ’em on both sides of me,” he said, pointing to his neighbors’ houses. “I’ve actually seen ’em slay a hog in the backyard. This is a retirement community. It’s very befuddling to see what’s happened.” Hei Say, an easygoing junior who hopes to become an elementary school teacher, was the only Karen student in the class. The man, she said, was her next-door neighbor.
As the class wrapped up, a senior named Bethany brought up a quote from a 2005 Argus Leader article that stated that Huron had a choice: It could accept immigrants or fade away. “I think that was the generation before us,” she said. “That was their choice. It wasn’t our choice. And they chose to accept and move forward and not to decline.”
She continued, “Now it’s our generation’s choice to choose to integrate, to combine what we have and combine forces and then keep growing. We don’t want to flatline at the acceptance.”
During the pandemic, there have been signs of what that might look like in practice. When COVID-19 came to Huron, rumors started spreading that immigrants had brought it to town. Aylward put out a statement making clear that wasn’t the case: All of the 13 cases recorded by late March were among white people. Eight more people soon got infected, but then the virus appeared to recede, and there were no new cases for more than 40 days.
In May, COVID-19 returned to Huron. By later that month, the town was battling 122 active infections, the large majority of which were tied to Dakota Provisions and a Jack Link’s beef jerky plant south of town. Blanca Ramirez Gonzalez, a 23-year-old Jack Link’s worker and mother of three who came to the United States from Mexico as a child, died at the Huron Regional Medical Center after testing positive. A GoFundMe page started by her aunt to help support Ramirez’s children, who range in age from 1 to 4, has raised about half of its $30,000 goal.
Smoky told me in early June that Dakota Provisions was taking people’s temperatures at the start of each shift, requiring masks, and placing partitions between workers on the line and in the cafeteria. He credited those measures with preventing a massive outbreak. (The Smithfield Foods plant in Sioux Falls is now connected to roughly 1,100 infections.) But the reality of the industry makes it hard to stop the spread. The Karen worker at the plant who requested anonymity said he thought the plant was doing a relatively good job when it came to protecting people from the virus. Still, he said, meatpacking means working elbow to elbow. More than 80 of the plant’s roughly 1,200 workers had tested positive by late last month.
As more workers fell ill or were exposed at home to relatives with the virus, Dakota Provisions found itself short on staff. Tensions rose as the company scheduled those who remained healthy for longer hours and came to a head last month when the plant stayed open for a Saturday shift. Roughly 100 workers, many of them Karen, decided not to show up as a form of protest.
Smoky responded with an internal memo to staff. “Getting together and purposely hurting Dakota Provisions today will hurt the company financially forever,” he wrote. “I do everything I can [to] support the Karen community every way I can.” He added, “When you do something like this, I struggle convincing the owners they should help you. Dakota Provisions has paid thousands of dollars building homes for you, educating you, paying for your celebrations, soccer tournaments, and recently paying you when you are too sick to attend work. You have greatly disappointed me!”
It served as a reminder that the Karen community had been coaxed to Huron to fill an economic void. Their activism threatened to upend the terms of that arrangement. The Karen worker asked me to imagine what it was like for older Karen residents to start work at the plant. “You don’t speak English and you walk into this place,” he said. “They just ask you to work, work, work. Do this. That. Overwork you. You want to speak up, but you don’t want to lose your job.” The memo left him “frustrated” and “speechless,” particularly because Smoky had been there for his community “high or low.”
The memo provoked an immediate backlash after it was shared on Facebook and covered in the local press. Young Karen people came to their community’s defense. Rebekah Htoo, whose family had moved to Huron in 2008, told a South Dakota reporter that she’d known Smoky since she was a kid and appreciated what he’d done for Karen people. The problem was the suggestion that people like her parents, who still worked at the plant, owed him something. “We were fine before him and we will be fine after him,” she said. “We can be angry and critical, without undermining everything positive that he has done for us.”
Dakota Provisions CEO Ken Rutledge responded by telling workers in another memo, “Smoky has been told never to allow this situation to happen again. To those employees who were upset, I humbly and sincerely, apologize.” Smoky told me in late June that he’d apologized in person to all of the Karen workers and that things were mostly back to normal. New infections in the county had slowed down and the work was continuing. Employees were about to come in again that Saturday for a half-shift to kill turkeys that were born before the pandemic had begun.
The night after the journalism class, young Karen bands played covers of Creedence Clearwater Revival and Guns N’ Roses on the stage where the new year’s celebration had taken place. I spotted the older woman who had approached me after Smoky’s New Year speech.
She told me her name was Emma. She was 80, and away from the music, she explained that her views on immigration had been reshaped by two Karen girls who visited her church group about five years ago. Emma brought them over. One was Khu Kle Shee, an energetic junior. The other was Hei Say, whom I’d met in the journalism class.
I apologized to Say for putting her on the spot with the video of her neighbor. “We had a misunderstanding with our neighbors, but it’s all right,” she said. She noted that the man was wrong to call the police on them for slaughtering a hog. “We were just skinning him,” she said. “The police didn’t care.”
Neither of the girls had known their grandparents, and Emma had become an improbable stand-in. They called her Grandma Emma; she called them Cookie and Hershey. “She’s watched us grow up,” Say said. “She’s given us a lot of advice. Relationship advice. Religion advice.”
“How to be young ladies,” Emma said.
When they wanted to learn how to bake, Emma taught them. They made her Karen food, but she couldn’t handle the heat. They laughed as they described other cultural divides. White people let the apples on their trees go to waste. They went to all-you-can-eat buffets, then didn’t eat that much. Kids at the high school didn’t always get the blunt Karen sense of humor. “You’re kind of ugly today,” Karen students might tell each other. The differences could make it hard to be friends with the classmates they sometimes called “English.”
Say and Shee found themselves caught between their peers and their parents, who worked in meatpacking. Both girls knew they’d never be able to handle that kind of work. “If we were there just for an hour,” Shee said, “we’d collapse.” Her mom and dad came home with backaches, but the girls weren’t exactly sure what their parents did all day. Neither had ever set foot inside the plants. Shee said she hoped to go someday, but just as a visitor.


motherjones--2020-07-10--Michael Cohen Was Sent Back to Prison After Refusing to Sign a Gag Agreement

Michael Cohen , President Donald Trump ’ s estranged former personal lawyer , was abruptly sent back to federal prison on Thursday after balking at a gag order that would have prevented him from talking to press or publishing a book while on home confinement .
Cohen has been on home release since May due to the coronavirus pandemic .
As a condition of his home confinement , the Bureau of Prisons asked Cohen to agree to significant restrictions .
He was required to abstain from “ engagement of any kind with the media , including print , tv , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of media/news , ” and from “ all social media platforms , ” according to a copy of the agreement obtained by Mother Jones .
Cohen was also required to agree to tell friends and family to avoid posting on his behalf about him .
According to Lanny Davis , Cohen ’ s confidant and former lawyer , Cohen was presented with the agreement when he showed up Thursday at a Manhattan probation office to receive an ankle bracelet and sign paperwork related to his home confinement .
Cohen is serving a three @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 2018 to tax evasion , lying to Congress , and campaign finance fraud that involved paying women who claimed to have had affairs with Trump to stay silent before the 2016 election .
Cohen has been furloughed since May 21 from a minimum security prison in upstate New York .
Furloughs and home confinements carry different restrictions .
According to Davis , Cohen refused to sign the gag agreement because he plans to publish a book in the next few months detailing his work for Trump .
Probation officers told him they would @ @ @ @ @ @ @ work it out , ” Davis says .
But after Cohen was left alone for 1.5 hours , federal marshals carrying shackles arrived to take him into custody .
Cohen then said he would sign the agreement .
But one of the marshals told him it was “ out of our hands , ” according to Davis , who cited the account of Jeffrey Levine , a Cohen attorney who was present .
Cohen and his lawyers have not been given a specific reason for why he is being returned to federal prison @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Prisons said Thursday that Cohen “ refused the conditions of his home confinement and as a result , has been returned to a BOP facility.
” Cohen teased his book on Twitter last week after a federal judge issued a ruling that allowed Mary Trump , President Trump ’ s niece , to proceed with publishing a book harshly critical of the president .

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Michael Cohen, President Donald Trump’s estranged former personal lawyer, was abruptly sent back to federal prison on Thursday after balking at a gag agreement that would have prevented him from talking to press or publishing a book while on home confinement. Cohen has been on home release since May due to the coronavirus pandemic.
As a condition of his home confinement, the Bureau of Prisons asked Cohen to agree to significant restrictions. He was required to abstain from “engagement of any kind with the media, including print, tv, film, books or any other form of media/news,” and from “all social media platforms,” according to a copy of the agreement obtained by Mother Jones. Cohen was also required to agree to tell friends and family to avoid posting on his behalf about him.
According to Lanny Davis, Cohen’s confidant and former lawyer, Cohen was presented with the agreement when he showed up Thursday at a Manhattan probation office to receive an ankle bracelet and sign paperwork related to his home confinement. Cohen is serving a three year sentence after pleading guilty in December 2018 to tax evasion, lying to Congress, and campaign finance fraud that involved paying women who claimed to have had affairs with Trump to stay silent before the 2016 election. Cohen has been furloughed since May 21 from a minimum security prison in upstate New York. Furloughs and home confinements carry different restrictions.
According to Davis, Cohen refused to sign the gag agreement because he plans to publish a book in the next few months detailing his work for Trump. Probation officers told him they would make a call to try to “work it out,” Davis says. But after Cohen was left alone for 1.5 hours, federal marshals carrying shackles arrived to take him into custody. Cohen then said he would sign the agreement. But one of the marshals told him it was “out of our hands,” according to Davis, who cited the account of Jeffrey Levine, a Cohen attorney who was present.
Cohen and his lawyers have not been given a specific reason for why he is being returned to federal prison, Davis says. The Bureau of Prisons said Thursday that Cohen “refused the conditions of his home confinement and as a result, has been returned to a BOP facility.”
Cohen teased his book on Twitter last week after a federal judge issued a ruling that allowed Mary Trump, President Trump’s niece, to proceed with publishing a book harshly critical of the president.
Favorable ruling yesterday by the Court as I am close to completion of my book…https://t.co/lprtpkdl7K — Michael Cohen (@MichaelCohen212) July 2, 2020
Read the gag agreement Cohen balked at signing:


motherjones--2020-07-09--Top US General Vows to “Take Action” If Reports of Russian Bounties Are True

Gen. Mark Milley , the highest-ranking US military officer , vowed Thursday to “ take action ” if reports of Russian bounty payments targeting US troops in Afghanistan are confirmed .
Still , don ’ t expect much in the way of immediate action , as the chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff tried to downplay the veracity of the public reports on the subject .
Milley , addressing members of the House Armed Services Committee alongside Defense Secretary Mark Esper , called the widely-publicized reports of bounties “ a unique , discrete piece of information that hasn ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fact there are bounties directed by the government of Russia or their institutions to kill American soldiers , that ’ s a big deal , ” Milley said .
“ We don ’ t have that level of fidelity yet .
We ’ re still looking.
” Esper denied seeing any intelligence specifically about a “ bounty , ” but said the briefings he ’ d been given about Russian “ payments ” were unconfirmed .
He also said the intelligence originated from outside the Pentagon and that Defense intelligence agents were “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ payments were one of several subjects lawmakers were eager to discuss with Milley and Esper , who were called in the first place to discuss the military ’ s role in responding to civil unrest following George Floyd ’ s death .
Both men came under intense scrutiny following the forceful removal of peaceful protesters from a park outside the White House last month .
Milley and Esper accompanied President Trump on a walk after Park Police hit protesters with tear gas and , initially gave laughable explanations for their presence at Trump @ @ @ @ @ @ @ month after the incident , neither of them could say who gave the order to clear the park .
“ It ’ s still unclear to me , ” Esper said .
“ I don ’ t know , ” Milley added .
In one of the stranger moments of the hearing , Milley said he was “ not aware ” of a highly-publicized event where two Australian journalists were attacked by police in DC on live TV , but said , “ I am deeply committed to a free press .
I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ( Perhaps not noting the irony , Esper also announced an aggressive crackdown on leaks within the Pentagon . )
In his prepared remarks , Esper gave a point-by-point breakdown of which National Guard forces were used in Washington , DC to quell protests , but did not reflect on his own controversial decisions during that time , which included a series of contradicting orders to have active-duty troops deployed near the city .
He did acknowledge , as he has in the past , that “ using active duty forces in a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a last resort , and exercised only in the most urgent and dire of situations.
” Milley and Esper were less direct about work being done to prevent systemic racism in the military .
Esper announced at the hearing the creation of an internal diversity and inclusion board to provide recommendation by year ’ s end on ways to “ increase racial diversity and ensure equal opportunity across all ranks , especially in the officer corps , ” while Milley noted that the military integrated nearly two decades before the passage of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ any mention of repeated surveys that show rising levels of racism and racist symbols within the military .
Last year , 53.5 percent of minority service members surveyed by Military Times said they had “ personally witnessed ” examples of white nationalism or racism within the military , a 12 percent increase from three years ago .
On the topic of military bases named after Confederate generals , Milley seemed inclined to change them , without saying so explicitly .
He even admitted that a Black service member had confided to him the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a base named after a general who enslaved that soldier ’ s ancestors .
“ Some think it ’ s heritage , some think it ’ s hate , ” Milley said .

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Gen. Mark Milley, the highest-ranking US military officer, vowed Thursday to “take action” if reports of Russian bounty payments targeting US troops in Afghanistan are confirmed. Still, don’t expect much in the way of immediate action, as the chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff tried to downplay the veracity of the public reports on the subject.
Milley, addressing members of the House Armed Services Committee alongside Defense Secretary Mark Esper, called the widely-publicized reports of bounties “a unique, discrete piece of information that hasn’t been corroborated.”
“If in fact there are bounties directed by the government of Russia or their institutions to kill American soldiers, that’s a big deal,” Milley said. “We don’t have that level of fidelity yet. We’re still looking.”
Esper denied seeing any intelligence specifically about a “bounty,” but said the briefings he’d been given about Russian “payments” were unconfirmed. He also said the intelligence originated from outside the Pentagon and that Defense intelligence agents were “unable to corroborate this report.”
The payments were one of several subjects lawmakers were eager to discuss with Milley and Esper, who were called in the first place to discuss the military’s role in responding to civil unrest following George Floyd’s death. Both men came under intense scrutiny following the forceful removal of peaceful protesters from a park outside the White House last month. Milley and Esper accompanied President Trump on a walk after Park Police hit protesters with tear gas and, initially gave laughable explanations for their presence at Trump’s side. More than a month after the incident, neither of them could say who gave the order to clear the park. “It’s still unclear to me,” Esper said. “I don’t know,” Milley added.
In one of the stranger moments of the hearing, Milley said he was “not aware” of a highly-publicized event where two Australian journalists were attacked by police in DC on live TV, but said, “I am deeply committed to a free press. I’ll die for the Constitution.” (Perhaps not noting the irony, Esper also announced an aggressive crackdown on leaks within the Pentagon.)
In his prepared remarks, Esper gave a point-by-point breakdown of which National Guard forces were used in Washington, DC to quell protests, but did not reflect on his own controversial decisions during that time, which included a series of contradicting orders to have active-duty troops deployed near the city. He did acknowledge, as he has in the past, that “using active duty forces in a direct civilian law enforcement role should remain a last resort, and exercised only in the most urgent and dire of situations.”
Milley and Esper were less direct about work being done to prevent systemic racism in the military. Esper announced at the hearing the creation of an internal diversity and inclusion board to provide recommendation by year’s end on ways to “increase racial diversity and ensure equal opportunity across all ranks, especially in the officer corps,” while Milley noted that the military integrated nearly two decades before the passage of the Civil Rights Act.
Left unsaid was any mention of repeated surveys that show rising levels of racism and racist symbols within the military. Last year, 53.5 percent of minority service members surveyed by Military Times said they had “personally witnessed” examples of white nationalism or racism within the military, a 12 percent increase from three years ago.
On the topic of military bases named after Confederate generals, Milley seemed inclined to change them, without saying so explicitly. He even admitted that a Black service member had confided to him the difficulty of serving at Fort Bragg, a base named after a general who enslaved that soldier’s ancestors. “Some think it’s heritage, some think it’s hate,” Milley said.


motherjones--2020-07-09--Donald Trump Is Stalling on Releasing Details of His Personal Finances

The Supreme Court ruled on Thursday that President Donald Trump can ’ t block investigations into his finances and taxes just because he ’ s the president—but allowed him to continue fighting specific investigations in lower courts , meaning he can continue to put off any immediate chance of having to give up bank and tax records , probably until after this November ’ s election .
Turns out , Trump is already kicking the can on another important bit of financial transparency : his annual personal financial disclosure .
The disclosure is not nearly as revealing as bank and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , debts , and income .
Trump has asked for unprecedented extensions twice this year .
The reports , which are required of all federal officials , would ordinarily have been due on May 15 .
But the Office of Government Ethics , which collects , reviews and approves the reports , granted a blanket 45-day extension to filers due to the COVID-19 pandemic .
That extension expired on June 29 , and Vice President Mike Pence ’ s personal financial disclosure was promptly filed the next day—but no sign of Trump ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that a second 45-day extension was granted , as first reported by the New York Times , and said Trump asked for the extension because he “ has a complicated report and he ’ s been focused on addressing the coronavirus crisis and other matters .
As a result he ’ s been given an additional 45 days , but the President intends to file as soon as possible.
” Despite the assurances that he plans to file “ as soon as possible ” , the mere fact that he has asked for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ says former OGE director Don Fox .
In fact , Fox says , it was shocking that Trump would take one extension .
“ It ’ s really unprecedented , I don ’ t know of any president who has asked for an extension , ” he says , and questions the claim that the COVID-19 crisis would get in the way of filing .
“ Even in the last two administrations , God knows that Bush and President Obama all had crises they had to deal with—and significant crises—and somehow they got @ @ @ @ @ @ @ also said that given the sophistication of Trump ’ s personal finances—not to mention his day job as president—it ’ s extremely unlikely Trump has much of anything to do with actually filling out and filing the forms .
“ The Wilbur Rosses , the Steve Mnuchins and the Donald Trumps—all they ’ re ever going to do is sign the form that ’ s put in front of them , ” he says .
“ Their lawyers and accountants have been through it , their lawyers and accountants have talked to OGE @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are not quite as revealing as a tax return , or the type of documents Trump would ’ ve submitted to his bankers to obtain loans , but they do provide a remarkably clear picture of the president ’ s finances .
He has hundreds of LLCs , more than a dozen debts and hundreds of millions of dollars of income .
Trump has touted his filings , which run over 100 pages , as proof of what a stellar business he has maintained while in office .
But the filings notably do @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the last few years they have been revealing enough to show that revenues at some of his most prized properties have been dwindling .
On last year ’ s form , Trump had to reveal that he had closed his brokerage accounts with Deutsche Bank and had borrowed money from a small Florida bank to cover the purchase of his sister ’ s house next to the Mar-a-Lago resort .
One of the biggest mysteries of Trump ’ s finances is the murkiness surrounding a loan he claims to have purchased off @ @ @ @ @ @ @ consistently included the loan , but it does not seem to be real .
What the documents don ’ t say has also been a source of legal and ethical quandaries for the president .
For example , in 2017 he failed to report the full extent of his payments to Michael Cohen as part of the Stormy Daniels hush money payment scheme , drawing legal complaints from ethics watchdogs .
And in 2018 , Trump failed to note the legal advice that Rudy Giuliani provided to him gratis .
In previous years @ @ @ @ @ @ @ filed promptly and released quickly , and while more extensive than most federal officials ’ disclosures , they haven ’ t changed dramatically from year to year , which makes the White House ’ s claim that he has needed more time this year even more odd .
Kathleen Clark , a law professor at Washington University in St. Louis who specializes in government ethics , says that the past failures to disclose things like the Cohen payments or Giuliani ’ s “ gift ” might be part of the reason for Trump @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ Basically the question isn ’ t just whether Trump is going to lie on his financial disclosure , he ’ s done that twice already , ” she says .
“ It ’ s whether OGE is going to sign off on his forms.
” Both Clark and Fox say that before a form is actually filed , there is usually an extensive back-and-forth between OGE and the president hammering out any questions about the form .
Perhaps OGE is the source of delay , Clark says .
“ The problem might @ @ @ @ @ @ @ looking for verification since Trump ’ s past disclosures have included false information , ” she says .
Fox says he is concerned the delay is a result of Trump ’ s recalcitrance to reveal information about his finances .
The maximum amount of time a filing can be delayed is 90 days—this year it will be Aug. 13—and if Trump simply doesn ’ t file by then , it will create a crisis .
“ What happens if he gets to the end of 90 days and he just says , ‘ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ' ” Fox says .
“ We ’ ve just never been there .
At that point , it ’ s just a flagrant disregard for the law and the standards and it really puts the OGE into a terrible position.
” OGE doesn ’ t have any discretion to grant more time , after that , Fox says .
The only option is to refer the matter to the Attorney General where it could be considered for a civil action resulting in as much as a $ 50,000 penalty for failing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that ’ s not going to happen , ” Fox says .

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The Supreme Court ruled on Thursday that President Donald Trump can’t block investigations into his finances and taxes just because he’s the president—but allowed him to continue fighting specific investigations in lower courts, meaning he can continue to put off any immediate chance of having to give up bank and tax records, probably until after this November’s election.
Turns out, Trump is already kicking the can on another important bit of financial transparency: his annual personal financial disclosure. The disclosure is not nearly as revealing as bank and tax records, but details his assets, debts, and income. Trump has asked for unprecedented extensions twice this year.
The reports, which are required of all federal officials, would ordinarily have been due on May 15. But the Office of Government Ethics, which collects, reviews and approves the reports, granted a blanket 45-day extension to filers due to the COVID-19 pandemic. That extension expired on June 29, and Vice President Mike Pence’s personal financial disclosure was promptly filed the next day—but no sign of Trump’s. A White House official confirmed that a second 45-day extension was granted, as first reported by the New York Times, and said Trump asked for the extension because he “has a complicated report and he’s been focused on addressing the coronavirus crisis and other matters. As a result he’s been given an additional 45 days, but the President intends to file as soon as possible.”
Despite the assurances that he plans to file “as soon as possible”, the mere fact that he has asked for an extension is a red flag, says former OGE director Don Fox. In fact, Fox says, it was shocking that Trump would take one extension.
“It’s really unprecedented, I don’t know of any president who has asked for an extension,” he says, and questions the claim that the COVID-19 crisis would get in the way of filing. “Even in the last two administrations, God knows that Bush and President Obama all had crises they had to deal with—and significant crises—and somehow they got the paperwork done on time.”
Fox also said that given the sophistication of Trump’s personal finances—not to mention his day job as president—it’s extremely unlikely Trump has much of anything to do with actually filling out and filing the forms.
“The Wilbur Rosses, the Steve Mnuchins and the Donald Trumps—all they’re ever going to do is sign the form that’s put in front of them,” he says. “Their lawyers and accountants have been through it, their lawyers and accountants have talked to OGE about it.”
The personal financial disclosures are not quite as revealing as a tax return, or the type of documents Trump would’ve submitted to his bankers to obtain loans, but they do provide a remarkably clear picture of the president’s finances. He has hundreds of LLCs, more than a dozen debts and hundreds of millions of dollars of income. Trump has touted his filings, which run over 100 pages, as proof of what a stellar business he has maintained while in office. But the filings notably do not show his profits.
Still, in the last few years they have been revealing enough to show that revenues at some of his most prized properties have been dwindling. On last year’s form, Trump had to reveal that he had closed his brokerage accounts with Deutsche Bank and had borrowed money from a small Florida bank to cover the purchase of his sister’s house next to the Mar-a-Lago resort. One of the biggest mysteries of Trump’s finances is the murkiness surrounding a loan he claims to have purchased off of creditors. His disclosure forms have consistently included the loan, but it does not seem to be real.
What the documents don’t say has also been a source of legal and ethical quandaries for the president. For example, in 2017 he failed to report the full extent of his payments to Michael Cohen as part of the Stormy Daniels hush money payment scheme, drawing legal complaints from ethics watchdogs. And in 2018, Trump failed to note the legal advice that Rudy Giuliani provided to him gratis.
In previous years, Trump’s disclosures have been filed promptly and released quickly, and while more extensive than most federal officials’ disclosures, they haven’t changed dramatically from year to year, which makes the White House’s claim that he has needed more time this year even more odd. Kathleen Clark, a law professor at Washington University in St. Louis who specializes in government ethics, says that the past failures to disclose things like the Cohen payments or Giuliani’s “gift” might be part of the reason for Trump’s tardy filing this year.
“Basically the question isn’t just whether Trump is going to lie on his financial disclosure, he’s done that twice already,” she says. “It’s whether OGE is going to sign off on his forms.”
Both Clark and Fox say that before a form is actually filed, there is usually an extensive back-and-forth between OGE and the president hammering out any questions about the form. Perhaps OGE is the source of delay, Clark says.
“The problem might be that OGE is maybe questioning and looking for verification since Trump’s past disclosures have included false information,” she says.
Fox says he is concerned the delay is a result of Trump’s recalcitrance to reveal information about his finances. The maximum amount of time a filing can be delayed is 90 days—this year it will be Aug. 13—and if Trump simply doesn’t file by then, it will create a crisis.
“What happens if he gets to the end of 90 days and he just says, ‘Well I’m still too busy,'” Fox says. “We’ve just never been there. At that point, it’s just a flagrant disregard for the law and the standards and it really puts the OGE into a terrible position.”
OGE doesn’t have any discretion to grant more time, after that, Fox says. The only option is to refer the matter to the Attorney General where it could be considered for a civil action resulting in as much as a $50,000 penalty for failing to file.
“And we know that’s not going to happen,” Fox says.


motherjones--2020-07-09--The Supreme Court Rejects Trump’s Claim That His Financial Records Can’t Be Subpoenaed

The Supreme Court ruled on Thursday that Donald Trump can not block his accounting firm from complying with a grand jury subpoena for copies of his tax records , and it separately held that Congress can subpoena Trump ’ s banks for copies of his financial records .
But in both matters the justices kicked the cases back to lower courts to adjudicate other issues concerning the subpoenas , meaning the requests for sensitive Trump financial records won ’ t be enforced any time soon .
The question of access to Trump ’ s most closely held financial secrets was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ spring via two related cases .
The first case involved subpoenas issued by three Democratic-controlled House committees investigating a variety of issues involving the president , including the effectiveness of existing ethics rules ( which Trump has claimed do not apply to him like they do to nearly all other federal employees ) and foreign interference in the 2016 election .
In this case , Trump v. Mazars , the court ruled 7 to 2 that Trump could not block the subpoenas but that lower courts had mishandled earlier rulings , remanding the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The opinion was authored by Chief Justice John Roberts .
The second case , Trump v. Vance , concerned a subpoena issued by a grand jury convened by New York Attorney General Cyrus Vance , who is probing hush money payments allegedly made to women Trump conducted affairs with prior to becoming president .
In that case , the court likewise ruled 7 to 2 , in another opinion written by Roberts , that Trump couldn ’ t block the subpoena and sent the case back to lower courts to iron out other @ @ @ @ @ @ @ subpoenas are nearly identical .
They seek records from Capital One and Deutsche Bank , the president ’ s largest lender , including internal bank communications discussing concerns about potentially suspicious transaction activity involving Trump Organization accounts .
Both New York prosecutors and the House committees are also requesting that Trump ’ s accounting firm Mazars turn over copies of Trump ’ s financial documents .
Vance ’ s subpoena to Mazars asks for copies of Trump ’ s tax returns , while the congressional subpoenas seek records that would include much of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ preparing his tax returns—and more , making them potentially more revealing .
Trump sued to block the subpoenas , arguing they amounted to “ presidential harassment , ” and the cases wound their way to the Supreme Court .
The banks and accounting firm have indicated that they would comply with the subpoenas if the courts permit them to release the records .
In the Vance case , Trump ’ s attorneys argued that there needed to be a “ heightened standard ” concerning what kind of information could be subpoenaed from a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ being unfairly targeted by partisans .
Roberts brushed this concern aside in his decision : “ Rejecting a heightened need standard does not leave Presidents with ‘ no real protection.
’ To start , a President may avail himself of the same protections available to every other citizen.
” While legal scholars debated whether the decisions were a victory for Trump or not—given that his financial records will probably not be made public before Election Day—Trump lashed out on Twitter :

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The Supreme Court ruled on Thursday that Donald Trump cannot block his accounting firm from complying with a grand jury subpoena for copies of his tax records, and it separately held that Congress can subpoena Trump’s banks for copies of his financial records. But in both matters the justices kicked the cases back to lower courts to adjudicate other issues concerning the subpoenas, meaning the requests for sensitive Trump financial records won’t be enforced any time soon.
The question of access to Trump’s most closely held financial secrets was brought to the high court earlier this spring via two related cases. The first case involved subpoenas issued by three Democratic-controlled House committees investigating a variety of issues involving the president, including the effectiveness of existing ethics rules (which Trump has claimed do not apply to him like they do to nearly all other federal employees) and foreign interference in the 2016 election. In this case, Trump v. Mazars, the court ruled 7 to 2 that Trump could not block the subpoenas but that lower courts had mishandled earlier rulings, remanding the case back to the lower courts. The opinion was authored by Chief Justice John Roberts.
The second case, Trump v. Vance, concerned a subpoena issued by a grand jury convened by New York Attorney General Cyrus Vance, who is probing hush money payments allegedly made to women Trump conducted affairs with prior to becoming president. In that case, the court likewise ruled 7 to 2, in another opinion written by Roberts, that Trump couldn’t block the subpoena and sent the case back to lower courts to iron out other issues.
The congressional and grand jury subpoenas are nearly identical. They seek records from Capital One and Deutsche Bank, the president’s largest lender, including internal bank communications discussing concerns about potentially suspicious transaction activity involving Trump Organization accounts. Both New York prosecutors and the House committees are also requesting that Trump’s accounting firm Mazars turn over copies of Trump’s financial documents.
Vance’s subpoena to Mazars asks for copies of Trump’s tax returns, while the congressional subpoenas seek records that would include much of the information that would be used in preparing his tax returns—and more, making them potentially more revealing.
Trump sued to block the subpoenas, arguing they amounted to “presidential harassment,” and the cases wound their way to the Supreme Court. The banks and accounting firm have indicated that they would comply with the subpoenas if the courts permit them to release the records.
In the Vance case, Trump’s attorneys argued that there needed to be a “heightened standard” concerning what kind of information could be subpoenaed from a sitting president to help prevent him from being unfairly targeted by partisans. Roberts brushed this concern aside in his decision: “Rejecting a heightened need standard does not leave Presidents with ‘no real protection.’ To start, a President may avail himself of the same protections available to every other citizen.”
While legal scholars debated whether the decisions were a victory for Trump or not—given that his financial records will probably not be made public before Election Day—Trump lashed out on Twitter:
The Supreme Court sends case back to Lower Court, arguments to continue. This is all a political prosecution. I won the Mueller Witch Hunt, and others, and now I have to keep fighting in a politically corrupt New York. Not fair to this Presidency or Administration! — Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) July 9, 2020
*This is a developing story.