SALT LAKE CITY — Now that environmental activist Tim DeChristopher has been convicted for monkey wrenching a Bureau of Land Management auction, it remains to be seen what impact he will have on the environmental movement.
Even DeChristopher himself has said that his cause is larger than climate change or protecting the environment and more about righting the wrongs caused by the unjust — be it the government or others.
"This is about building self-empowerment," DeChristopher told a crowd of supporters Thursday after his conviction in federal court on violating an onshore oil and gas leasing act and false statements to the government because he posed as a bidder at a controversial auction of public lands for oil and gas development.
After winning 14 bids of land valued at nearly $1.8 million, DeChristopher is now staring at a prison term of up to 10 years and fines of $750,000, although the U.S. Attorney's Office has said it will not seek the maximum penalty.
Whatever the sentence handed down by Judge Dee Benson in June, questions linger over what DeChristopher accomplished, the impact he had on others and if any of the momentum will continue.
Fan or foe, no one can dispute that a crowd of 600 plus showed up Monday the first day of his trial to show its support. The crowd sang, held hands, beat drums and gave impassioned cries for justice across the street from the federal courthouse — but most said it wasn't about one man, or one man's fate.
"It is not about Tim," said Tom Weistar, director of "Finding the Good," a traveling semester program out of Nevada City, Calif.
"It is much bigger than that and he will be the first one to own it. The truth is this land is not being drilled and it is protected. The awareness has shifted. It is about what our future looks like. A lot has been accomplished."
Much of what was accomplished was a peaceful demonstration of support that surprised even the contingency of law enforcement officers assigned to keep the crowd under control.
In excess of 150 officers were on hand on Monday — the first day of the judicial proceedings — and when the rally for DeChristopher was in full force.
It was the first time the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, the U.S. Marshals Service and the Salt Lake City Police Department worked together to plan their response to an event that was presumed to possibly escalate.
"We planned three months for this," said Ron Osborne, area commander for the Federal Protective Service of the Department of Homeland Security.
Officers with the federal agency came in from Colorado, Montana and North Dakota to protect the courthouse, while Salt Lake City police officers showed up in full force.
While prepared for anything, what they found was somewhat unexpected.
"There were no problems what so ever," Osborne said. "We were expecting rude behavior, but everything was under control. They were happy and peaceful."
One officer with the agency, inspector Jay Boese, said he'd never been to a "protest" with so many people that didn't end in a disturbance.
"It's extremely rare."
On one day of the trial, for example, supporters sang "Happy Birthday" to a police sergeant. Long after the verdict was rendered and rain had driven away the crowd, a lonely trio of court security officers pondered how boring the next day would be now that DeChristopher's trial was over.
One was even humming a song sung in solidarity for DeChristopher that week, after hearing it day after day.
Such impact is what has made DeChristopher's group, Peaceful Uprising, carve out a niche in a world where protests often escalate to violence and police — as the frontline — take the brunt.
"With training and awareness and preparation you greatly increase your odds of keeping the feel of what you want it to be," said Deb Sawyer, president of the Gandhi Alliance of Peace.
"It does not happen by happenstance."
Logan Froerer, with Peaceful Uprising, said his group did as much planning as police did for the event.
"There was plenty of deep planning for three months," he said. "All along our main focus was that the best response to intimidation is joy and resolve and to be nonviolent and peaceful. That is how we are going to change hearts and minds."
Froerer and other members of Peaceful Uprising point out that while they had a permit to protest across the street at Exchange Place, they did not have the legal permission to cross the street and stand in front of the courthouse.
"We didn't know what would happen," said Ashley Anderson. "We didn't have a permit."
It was a risk taken, and a risk that played out well.
"The police were fine with us out of permitted space because we were so peaceful," Froerer said. "They knew we were there with joy, not anger."
E-mail: amyjoi@desnews.com