From Friend to Felon: How Eight Jurors Changed the Course of History

This is a story about hope, the American legal system, and my friend Wayne Hsiung. I hope you enjoy.

Estimated reading time: 12 minutes.

The first time I met Wayne was about a year ago. I had just moved to Berkeley and I was at a meetup for an animal rights group called “Direct Action Everywhere.” I didn’t really know what to expect, but I remember the event page said there would be free food, so I was like yo why not.

I remember pulling up and seeing a bunch of hippie white people so that was a good start. Then I made my way over to the tofu scramble and started piling it on. As I was scooping my soyboy breakfast food, Wayne, who happened to be right in front of me, turned and was like, “What’s up! I don’t think we’ve met before?”

We hadn’t, but I did already know who he was because he’s somewhat a big deal in the animal rights community. I didn’t tell him that though, instead I did that cool thing where you pretend not to already know the person you’re being introduced to.

I told him I was here to start law school, and he was like, “That’s awesome, I’m a lawyer myself!” I already knew that too, but I had to keep my cool so I was like “Woah really?” We started talking and honestly my first impression was that this is one goofy ass mf. He was super high energy, talking to me through mouthfuls of tofu, and telling me stories like this:

“I love talking to animals! I was on my way to the meetup this morning and I saw a squirrel and was like ‘Hi there Mr. Squirrel! How’s it hanging?’ I suppose I shouldn’t assume the squirrel’s gender though, isn’t it weird that we assign certain genders to certain animals?”

I was like bruh, that’s actually really funny. I like this guy. He asked me to stay after the meetup to talk to him and I thought that was really sweet. It meant a lot to me because, in my mind, this dude was actually a big deal, and because I was new to the city and feeling lonely.

He ended up asking me a lot of questions, getting my phone number, and inviting me to like three upcoming social events. That was the beginning of the end for me.

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Over the next year, I joined his “Legal Llamas” defense team, where basically we meet once a week to try to make sure Wayne doesn’t get locked up. For context, Wayne’s facing like decades in prison because he likes to do this thing called “Open Rescue”, which is basically going into factory farms, rescuing animals, and then publishing everything that happens on the internet (including his face).

The reason he does this all openly is because he’s proud of it. Like yeah, it might be dangerous, and he might end up in prison, but regardless, rescuing animals is the right thing to do. He often uses the “dog in a hot car” analogy to explain this. If you would break into someone’s car to save a dog from overheating, he says, then you should also break into a factory farm to save a pig from slaughter.

Even as an animal activist, when I first heard about all this I thought it was kind of extreme. I think there was just something about breaking the law that didn’t sit right with me. But then I thought about it some more and realized it’s actually super fucking hype. And that’s because I know if I was an animal on a factory farm, then I’d certainly want someone to rescue me.

Anyway, our weekly legal meetings were pretty fun. I’d usually take the bus to Wayne’s house, knock on his door, and then wait for his dogs Oliver and Lisa to start barking. I always thought it was really sweet how he’d respond to this, never by telling them to stop barking, but instead with a compassionate, “I know, I know, very scary.”

Our team would discuss the seven or so ongoing cases he’s facing. He’d assign us action items like “Is the ‘necessity defense’ available in North Carolina?” and “Is the Iowa ‘agricultural trespass’ law unconstitutional?” Our team was small and inexperienced (basically just Wayne, another attorney, and some first year law students), but we made up for it in passion. Often, Wayne’s cat Joan would join us for moral support.

I got to be pretty good friends with Wayne too. We’ve played basketball together a couple times and, although his jumpshot is broken beyond repair, he is a decent defender. We’ve also shared a lot of meals together, and the funniest thing is he always takes at least three bites of whatever he’s eating before he starts chewing, so it’s not uncommon to catch him with these big overflowing cheeks, food on the verge of escape.

As far as I can tell, he’s basically always in a good mood, and he just really loves people. You can see it in the way he feeds off their energy. It’s common to find him surrounded by a group of people, smiling, and talking about literally anything, because he’s almost always got something to say. And you can also see it in the way he gives people his full attention, always asking about their lives, and listening to their stories. It’s really touching honestly.

His love for animals is probably even more pronounced. He’s always talking about his dogs and how much they’ve inspired him. One time he told me that whenever he sees an animal suffering, he just imagines that it’s his dog Oliver, and that’s what motivates him to risk decades of life in prison. At his new apartment in San Francisco he doesn’t even have a bed, he just sleeps on the floor with Oliver.

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Wayne became a felon last December when a jury convicted him of burglary for rescuing a goat from slaughter. I was worried for him, but he didn’t end up in jail, and I think that’s because, over the course of the trial, the prosecutor realized that Wayne’s actually a good guy, so the prosecutor actually went ahead and specifically requested the judge not to issue a prison sentence. The prosecutor even gave Wayne a hug after everything was over.

After his felony conviction, someone reported Wayne to the California state bar to try to revoke his attorney license. At first, things weren’t looking so great (typically felons don’t also get to be lawyers), and the Legal Llamas were scrambling to oppose his disbarment. I was stressed because the legal supervisor of my “independent pro bono project” was close to losing his license, and I was angry, because apparently rescuing animals is a “crime of moral turpitude” that gets you disbarred. But the craziest thing is, the state bar actually granted our motion to keep Wayne’s license, so now Wayne is both a registered felon and a registered lawyer.

Possibly the biggest reason why we won is because we actually had the support of the very prosecutor that had just convicted Wayne. The prosecutor ended up signing a letter on Wayne’s behalf stating that 1) Wayne’s a person of good character, and 2) Wayne’s motives were unlike any he’d ever seen before.

Honestly, it’s stuff like this that makes me respect Wayne so much. Like bruh, how do you get the same prosecutor who just convicted you of two felonies to also help you remain a licensed attorney.

Wayne has also done this same thing with a literal factory farmer. Back in 2017, Wayne conducted an investigation into Norbest, one of the largest industrial turkey farms in the nation. He exposed the awful cruelty inside these facilities and rescued a few turkeys. This got him stuck with more felony charges, but eventually they ended up getting dropped because Wayne actually became friends with the owner of the factory farm, Rick Pitman. Now, instead of a trial, the two of them have plans to host a town hall and discuss food system reform. And not only that, but over the last few thanksgivings, Rick has “pardoned” more than a hundred turkeys, and even visited some of them at their new sanctuary homes.

It’s wild. I guess animal rights activists and factory farmers really can be friends.

But also, to be real here, most of us are not Sir Wayne Hansen Hsiung in all of his glory. Most of us will never risk our freedom to save animals from factory farms, and most of us will never be able to fit that much food into our cheeks before chewing. But nevertheless, each of us is endowed with the power & agency to create change in this world. And whether that’s done by screaming into a megaphone, or simply by having a conversation with a friend, it’s all incredibly meaningful.

The rest of this piece is about Wayne’s latest trial, and how eight ordinary people from southern Utah courageously used their power to make the world a kinder place.

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It all started back in 2007 when Smithfield foods, the largest pig slaughterer in the world, promised to phase out “gestation crates.” Gestation crates are these awful torture devices used by animal agriculture to confine mother pigs. Basically, the mother is trapped in a cage that’s just barely bigger than her body (so small that she can’t even turn around), and she’s forced to live in these conditions for nearly her entire life.

In 2017, Wayne got hold of public satellite imagery that suggested Smithfield hadn’t followed through on this promise, so he and some friends decided to conduct an investigation into Smithfield owned Circle Four Farms, the largest pig farm in America.

Circle Four is this massive, sprawling operation with shed after shed of tortured pigs. It spans over twenty miles long and processes over a million pigs every year. Wayne sometimes calls Circle Four the “heart of darkness,” and I think the name is quite fitting.

This summer I visited the farm myself and it was really heartbreaking. It’s illegal to go on the property, so instead I just stood outside on one of the public roads, hundreds of feet away. The saddest part is that, even from such a distance, I could still hear the pigs screaming. It hurts me to know how much each of them is hurting.

When Wayne conducted this investigation into Circle Four, he said it was some of the worst animal cruelty he’s ever seen. He found row after row of entrapped mother pigs, screaming, thrashing, and gnawing on the bars of their cages. Feces everywhere, piles of dead piglets. Suffering, suffering, and more suffering.

I’ve reviewed hours of this footage myself to prepare for trial. Sometimes I’m able to detach myself from the horror of it all, but sometimes it’s too much, and I break down in tears.

What makes me feel a little bit better is at least Wayne was able to rescue two piglets that night. They were the smallest of their siblings and appeared on the verge of death. He picked them up, brought them to a vet, and nursed them back to health. On the first night of their rescue, one of the piglets slept on Wayne’s chest. Today, their names are Lily & Lizzie, and they’re living happily at an animal sanctuary.

All this footage got compiled into a ten minute video dubbed “Operation Deathstar”, and was published in the New York Times. Upon publication, the paper reached out to Smithfield Foods for comment, and that was likely the first time the corporation learned of what had happened. Smithfield put out a statement saying “the video appears to be highly edited and even staged in an attempt to manufacture an animal care issue where one does not exist.”

Criminal charges were filed soon after. Wayne got hit with four felonies and was suddenly facing over fifty years in prison.

One of the crazier parts of this whole story is that the fucking FBI was also super involved. Believe it or not, the FBI actually tracked down Lily & Lizzie across state lines, and pulled up to the animal sanctuary where they were living. The agents arrived in six cars and bulletproof vests, demanding DNA samples of the two piglets. This entailed immobilizing Lizzie, cutting off nearly two inches of her ear as she screamed in pain, and sanctuary staff weeping and begging the agents to stop. The agents were themselves so disturbed by this conduct that they decided not to subject Lily to the same mutilation. Weeks after the raid, the sanctuary happened to get a phone call from the U.S. Department of Agriculture, claiming that the shelter lacked the legally required licenses.

It’s absurd that the FBI felt the need to get involved in a burglary case involving two missing piglets. But I guess that’s the thing, for Smithfield and the FBI, it was never about the piglets. They couldn’t care less about the piglets. Rather, it was about maintaining the status & wealth of animal agriculture.

And the industry knows that, in order to maintain this status, it must silence its critics. Because it knows that people don’t want animals to be tortured. It knows that it only takes 10 seconds of factory farm footage for people to realize something is wrong here. And it’s this very awareness that drives the industry to move in silence.

And unfortunately, the government is more than willing to do the industry’s work for them. That’s why we have “ag-gag” laws that make it a crime to take photos inside factory farms. That’s why prosecutors ignore animal cruelty complaints. That’s why FBI agents raid animal sanctuaries. And that’s why Wayne is being prosecuted for rescuing dying animals.

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The trial itself was kind of a blur. I remember arriving at our Airbnb in southern Utah and one of the first things Wayne said was, “Sorry, no time for pleasantries”, and that sums things up pretty well. And honestly, it’s not that I was slammed with assignments, a lot of the time I didn’t have anything to do, I think it just felt busy due to the anxiety of seeing someone you love fight for their freedom.

Most of us weren’t allowed into the courtroom because the judge was worried our supporters would intimidate the jurors, so instead I watched Wayne argue from the couch of our Airbnb. He decided to go “pro se”, which is an obnoxious way of saying he decided to represent himself as his own lawyer, but also it does sound kind of cool. I snacked on Takis & cashews as Wayne confessed to the jury that there was no mystery here, he was indeed the one whodunit and taken the piglets. And I cheered with my fellow Legal Llamas as Wayne cross-examined Smithfield employees, the state veterinarian, and the FBI agent assigned to his case. The FBI cross-examination was particularly gratifying. “Are you aware of any other FBI investigation of a burglary involving less than $100 of stolen property?” Obviously, the answer was no.

It was times like these that you could sense Wayne’s frustration, but I think that worked to his advantage. He just appeared so authentic through it all. Whether it was his anger for the system, or his compassion for the animals, you could really feel all of it. And this was in contrast to the State yelling “Objection!” every time Wayne tried talking about animal cruelty or government corruption. Over the course of the trial, I think it became pretty evident that, while Wayne was speaking from the heart, the State was trying to prevent the jury from fully understanding the circumstances. At one point, we literally had to use scissors to cut out a chunk of a jury photo exhibit, because that chunk was deemed to be evidence of “inadmissible animal cruelty.”

Although animal cruelty evidence was heavily constricted, Wayne was allowed to have some pretty cool “character witnesses” come testify on his behalf. These are basically people whose job is to show up and be like “Yup, Wayne’s a good guy.” One was this highly accredited law professor named Justin Marceau who’s attended both the Air Force Academy and Harvard Law. He testified to Wayne’s good and “patriotic” character. I remember thinking it’s sad that we have to lean into elitism & nationalism to legitimize our cause. Another witness was everyone’s favorite factory farmer, Rick Pitman, who literally dropped one of the most fire lines of the trial, “There’s a difference between stealing a turkey … or whether he’s trying to rescue a turkey that’s suffering.”

At night when we went back to the Airbnb everyone would hangout together except for Wayne, because he was working around the clock to make sure he effectively pro se’d. I was fortunate enough to have the free time to strike up a deep conversation with Wayne’s co-defendant Paul one night. I asked them what they think about the animal movement’s emphasis on veganism and personal purity. They told me that, while they do personally prefer to avoid animal products, they don’t actually think veganism is all that important. They pointed to their clothes as an example of a product also derived from exploitation. They explained how difficult it is to live an ethical life when our system is configured to disincentivize ethical options, and that in order to create real change, we must reconfigure this system. I also asked them if they’re optimistic about the future of the animal rights movement. They said it’s hard for them to imagine us having much success unless we ally with other justice movements.

The last day of the trial was definitely the most eventful. It started with the prosecution trying to do damage control for the limited animal cruelty evidence that had already been admitted. They had a Smithfield employee testify that the company looks out for sick animals and provides them with veterinary care. This was both bullshit and a bad strategic move on their part. Wayne lit the guy up on cross-examination and got him to admit that Smithfield only hires a total of 2 veterinarians for every 1.2 million pigs. This was also a poor strategic move because by addressing the issue of animal welfare, the prosecution “opened the door” to all of our cruelty evidence that was previously inadmissible.

Wayne immediately made this “Hey they just opened the door!” argument to the judge, and the judge actually agreed, but he also said that since it was Friday and there’s a three day weekend approaching, he didn’t want to have another day of trial just for the defense to present cruelty evidence. This was incredibly frustrating for us to hear, because obviously the outcome of this case shouldn’t be determined by the happenstance of an approaching federal holiday. And it felt kind of ridiculous that, even after the prosecution opened the door, we were still denied the opportunity to present this critical evidence.

I think the judge recognized all this, which is why he did give us the option for a “mistrial”, but this kind of just felt like he was throwing us a bone. The problem is that with a mistrial, the defendants can be retried again later. We passed on the offer and moved forward with the proceedings.

In his closing statement, Wayne reemphasized that he was indeed the person who had taken the piglets, but that there’s a difference between stealing property, and rescuing an animal who’s suffering. He empowered the jury to find him not guilty, not on the basis of a technical legal issue, but rather because they believed he did the right thing.

The jury was sent to deliberate, and Wayne walked out of the courthouse to address me and the forty-ish other people crazy enough to put their lives on hold for this trial. He told us he wasn’t too optimistic about the verdict. He felt like he hadn’t really been able to connect with the jurors, and he was just so tired. I felt for him in that moment. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be to have to convince people that, no, I shouldn’t go to prison for rescuing animals.

He ended up telling us a sad story from earlier that day. Basically, he’d spent a lot of time alone with the judge and the prosecution, and there was plenty of down time, so sometimes they’d start talking about unrelated matters. The prosecution mentioned other convictions they were working on, the judge mentioned some death penalty cases he presided over, and through it all, Wayne said he just couldn’t get over how casual they were. It was hard for him to comprehend the ease with which these people could discuss incarceration and death. How people can become desensitized to something as serious as locking someone up in a cage. He said it reminded him of factory farming, and how indifferent people are to the animals and their suffering.

When Wayne finished speaking, Paul grabbed the megaphone and told a slightly different story. Paul echoed Wayne’s frustrations, but more than anything, they spoke of their empathy for the prosecutors. “They are people too,” they said. And the prosecutors, like the rest of us, are part of a larger system that incentivizes & normalizes these terrible things. It was moving to hear them speak so lovingly of the very people who’ve been fighting to imprison them for the last five years.

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The next day, the eight jurors did something that surprised most of us: they unanimously found Wayne and Paul not guilty of all charges. This sets a major precedent for the animal rights movement. For the first time in history, two defendants have been acquitted in an open rescue trial. I was on an airplane back home when I first heard the news, and I remember looking out the window and laughing because, holy shit, we fucking did it.

I can’t be sure why the jurors made their decision, but I feel confident that it has something to do with the fact that they care about animals, and that when they took the time to reflect, they chose kindness over cruelty.

I hope this sends a message to animal agriculture. Because even in conservative, rural Utah, people chose to side with animal activists over Smithfield and the State.

And I hope this empowers people everywhere to rise up. Because we are not alone in believing that factory farming is morally unacceptable, and that animals deserve kindness & respect. Together, we can abolish this despicable industry, and transition to a more compassionate food system, one that doesn’t inflict such vast amounts of violence & misery.

Most of all, I hope this story inspires people to open their hearts to the suffering that surrounds us. Because yes, while it is painful to gaze out into the world and meet the eyes of the trillions of individuals who need our help, it’s also liberating. Because there is nothing more fulfilling than to be part of something greater than ourselves, and to join this struggle for justice.

Together, we can create something so much better than this. A world where poverty, incarceration, & slaughterhouses are all a memory of the past. A world where every sentient being experiences freedom & happiness. The more of us that believe in this vision, the more likely we are to achieve it. And one day, I feel confident we will.

Until every animal is free.

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Sources

Direct Action Everywhere: Operation Deathstar

The Intercept: The FBI’s Hunt for Two Missing Piglets Reveals the Federal Cover-Up of Barbaric Factory Farms

The New York Times: Animal Welfare Groups Have a New Tool: Virtual Reality

The Intercept: Activists Acquitted in Trial for Taking Piglets from Smithfield Foods

The New York Times: Animal Rights Activists are Acquitted in Smithfield Piglet Case

Red Canary: A Thanksgiving Tale of Turkey Liberation and Human Decency