Orlando Sentinel (Sunday)

When armed vigilantes are summoned with a few keystrokes

Kenosha’s streets turned deadly after 1 man issued call to arms amid protests

- By Neil MacFarquha­r

Tapping on his cellphone with a sense of purpose, Kevin Mathewson, a former wedding photograph­er and onetime city alderman in Kenosha, Wisconsin, did not slow down to fix his typos as he dashed off an online appeal to his neighbors. It was time, hewrote onFacebook in late August, to “take up arms to defend out City tonight from the evil thugs.”

One day earlier, hundreds of residents had poured onto the streets of Kenosha to protest the police shooting of 29-year-old Jacob Blake. Disturbed by the sight of buildings in flames when he drove downtown, Mathewson decided it was time for people to arm themselves to protect their houses and businesses.

To his surprise, some 4,000 people responded on Facebook. Within minutes, the Kenosha Guard had sprung to life.

His call to arms — along with similar calls from others inside and outside the state — propelled civilians bearing military-style rifles onto the streets, where late that night agunmanscu­ffling with protesters shot three of them, two fatally. The Kenosha Guard then evaporated as quickly as it arose.

Long a divisive figure in Kenosha, Mathewson, 36, who sprinkles his sentences with “Jeez!” and describes himself as “chunky,” does not fit the typical profile of a rifle-totingwatc­hdog, althoughhe said he supported President Donald Trump on Second Amendment grounds. The rise and fall of his Kenosha Guard reflects the current spirit of vigilantis­m surfacing across the country.

Organizati­ons that openly display

weapons have existed for decades, with certain hot-button issues like immigratio­n or Second Amendment rights inspiring people who think the Constituti­on is under threat. Anti-immigrant and Islamophob­ic sentiments are rife, and some militant groups, like the Oath Keepers or the Three Percenters, train together under establishe­d hierarchie­s. Ever since the 2017 white nationalis­t march in Charlottes­ville, Virginia, armed groups have become fixtures at demonstrat­ions around the country, although membership numbers remain opaque.

With the approachin­g election ratcheting up tensions in recent months, armed groups that assembled via a few clicks on the keyboard have become both more visible and more widespread. Some especially violent groups were rooted in long-standing antigovern­ment extremism, like the 14 men charged with various crimes in Michigan this month. They included six accused by the

FBI of plotting to Gretchen Whitmer.

Starting in April, demonstrat­ions against coronaviru­s lockdowns prompted makeshift vigilante groups to move offline and into the real world. That trickle become a torrent amid the nationwide protests after the police killing of George Floyd in Minneapoli­s— with some armed groups claiming to protect protesters while others sought to check them.

“They just spawn out of nowhere,” said J.J. MacNab, a fellow at George Washington University’s Program on Extremism.

When Trump was asked at last month’s presidenti­al debate about

kidnap

Gov.

activity by right-wing extremists, including the violence in Kenosha, he declined to outright condemn such groups. His response — telling one far-right group to “stand back and stand by” — left experts who had already warned about the potential for greater violence before theNov. 3 election bracing for even more.

Experts who study violent groups say that many are technicall­y not militias; they are too unstructur­ed and do not undertake basic steps like training together. They are usually just a fraternity with a shared goal, like the groups in Oregon that patrolled back roads amid wildfires, hunting mostly imagined looters

or arsonists.

In Kenosha, police officers were caught on video expressing appreciati­on to the gunmen and handing them bottles of water, prompting criticism that law enforcemen­t officers encouraged the armed groups.

But soon after, the sheriff tried to distance his department. “Part of the problem with this group is, they create confrontat­ion,” David Beth, the Kenosha County sheriff, told reporters.

The may mention a “well-regulated militia,” but all 50 states ban private paramilita­ry groups, said Mary McCord, a former senior Justice

Second Amendment

Department official now at Georgetown­University­LawCenter. Some groups avoid calling themselves “militias” to circumvent the prohibitio­n, experts said.

Mathewson first tried to muster the Kenosha Guard in June after the city had small protests because of Floyd’s death in Minnesota. A little more than 60 people responded.

Then, on Aug. 23, video emerged that showed a Kenosha police officer firing seven times toward Blake’s back.

When protests disintegra­ted into property destructio­n, Mathewson said, he thought law enforcemen­t was overwhelme­d. “Some people think that we should have left itupto thepolice, but I disagree,” he said.

After two nights of demonstrat­ions, he posted an event on Facebook called “Armed Civilians to Protect our Lives and Property.” He named himself commander of the Kenosha Guard and added an open letter to police telling them not to interfere.

“That got a lot of traction,” Mathewson said. “Tons and tons of shares, likes, comments. I was receiving private messages to my Facebook page, my public figure page. Theywere just raining in.”

Several hundred people volunteere­d to participat­e, and around 4,000 expressed approval. His call to arms spread to other platforms, like Reddit. Infowars, the website that traffics in conspiracy theories, amplified it, as did local right-wing radio stations.

Mathewson said he had long believed that Americans should protect themselves. “You cannot rely on the government or the police to protect you,” he said.

“I am pro-Second Amendment, but I am not a right-wing nut job,” he added.

Posts on Facebook the sense of siege in Kenosha by spreading false rumors that murderous gangs from Milwaukee, Minneapoli­s and Chicago were coming to ransack the city of 100,000 people.

JenniferRu­sch, 47, a hairstylis­t, clicked onMathewso­n’swebpage to find armed men to protect her business. “Facebook had a lot to do with making everybody hysterical,” she said. “Now we know 99% of itwas lies.”

People messaged Mathewson from around Wisconsin and other states, asking where to deploy.

“People thought we had some kind of command staff or a structure, but it was really just a general call to arms” meant mostly for his neighbors, Mathewson said.

Jerry Grimson, 56, a former campaign manager for Mathewson during his run for alderman, responded by organizing his own neighbors to come out. “There was no way we were going to let people burn down our homes,” he said.

That night, Mathewson stuck to the entrance of his subdivisio­n, WhiteCaps, at least 7 miles from

amplified

the city center. Pictures show him wearing a baggy red Chuck Norris T-shirt and knee-length camouflage shorts, with a rifle slung over his chest. He passed the early evening sitting outside on a lawn chair with some armed neighbors, thenwent to bed early. “I kind of felt a little bad that I got this in motion but then I was home by 9,” he said.

While he slept, downtownKe­nosha boiled over.

Witnesses blamed the violent disarray partly on the fact that many gunmen downtown were strangers to one another, with some on rooftops acting as spotters to call in reinforcem­ents and no one in command.

To Raymond Roberts, a real estate investor and sixyear Army veteran who monitored the vigilantes, the parade of jacked-up pickup trucks filled with armed men resembled Afghanista­n. “You have guys in the back of trucks, faces hidden, and youcan tell that they are hunting,” he said.

Roberts noticed that law enforcemen­t officers largely ignored the men.

The gunmen never seemed to realize that all the combatweap­onry made Black residents like himself particular­ly uneasy, Roberts said, and that the community would have preferred to protect itself. “They just had this assumption thatwe don’t exist,” he said.

As tensions surged, with protesters and armed enforcers tussling, authoritie­s say Kyle Rittenhous­e, a 17year-old from Illinois, opened fire with a militaryst­yle semi-automatic rifle, killing two protesters and seriously wounding a third. He faces homicide charges and has become a poster boy for the far-right.

Mathewson remains unsure which armed men downtownre­sponded to his call, and he denied having any contact with Rittenhous­e.

Longtime Kenosha residents said they were conflicted over Mathewson, with his behavior angering some and others praising his many years as an independen­twatchdog. TheKenosha News, the local newspaper, described him as “contentiou­s.”

Fans noted that he had chased down surveillan­ce videos that exposed bad police behavior and, before leaving his alderman post in 2017, pushed for police body cameras that have still not been bought. But critics said he had turned himself into a nuisance by transformi­ng political difference­s into personal vendettas.

Angie Aker, a community activist, initiated a criminal complaint against Mathewson as an accessory to the protest deaths. “I think he invited people in who were looking for a reason to shoot,” she said. There is also a federal lawsuit that names Mathewson, along with Rittenhous­e and Facebook, among others, for depriving the four plaintiffs of their civil rights; one is the partner of a victim, and the three others allege that armed men assaulted them.

Mathewson said what he did was covered by free speech.

Despite rumors of widespread destructio­n, 95% of the city remained untouched, noted the Rev. Lawrence Kirby II of the Acts Church. “There was never a need inKenosha for an armed militia to gather and to seek out any kind of vigilante justice,” he said.

After the shootings, Facebook banned Mathewson for life, removing his personal and profession­al pages. He said he lost 13 years of photo archives, including videos of his daughter and son taking their first steps and a memorial page for his mother.

Mathewson said that for now he had no plans to revive the Kenosha Guard. His wife has had enough of the spotlight, he said, with his phone ringing constantly.

“I am getting love and hate fromall over the country,” he said.

 ?? ALYSSA SCHUKAR/THE NEW YORK TIMES ?? A sticker reading “America” is seen Aug. 25 in the window of a damaged business in Kenosha, Wisconsin.
ALYSSA SCHUKAR/THE NEW YORK TIMES A sticker reading “America” is seen Aug. 25 in the window of a damaged business in Kenosha, Wisconsin.

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