An Open Letter to My Judge

Written from jail

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Your Honor, 

As I write this, I am actually not far from you, but it feels like we are in entirely different worlds. You are in your courtroom, with your important robes and your gavel, and I am just next door, in the jail attached to the courthouse, an inmate stripped of her freedom. You said that, in part, you ultimately decided to send me here because I would not apologize to Perdue. Even if you promised it would instantly set me free, I would not apologize now. I could not do so in good faith. To apologize would be to say that Poppy, Ivy, Aster, and Azalea deserved to stay where they were, packed in a crowded cage, bodies infected and aching, as they waited to enter a slaughterhouse kill floor where they’d be painfully shackled upside down and potentially even boiled alive if any part of the slaughter process malfunctioned, as it often inevitably does. 

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So, you see, any utterance of an apology for their rescue would be a lie. They did not deserve that pain. No living being does. As I prepared for my sentencing hearing, trying to decide what words to say when I had the chance, there were two things I knew to be true: 

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1) Given my medical conditions, jail would be especially unpleasant at best, and deadly at worst. Risking jail meant risking my life. 

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2) The court would expect remorse in exchange for leniency. 

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But, when I thought about apologizing, I realized a piece of me would die with every word. I may be rewarded by the court and be allowed to go home, keeping access to all of my doctors and medical equipment, but I would be turning my back on my own values, betraying what I know to be right and true. I’d be losing myself and I’d be breaking a promise I’d made to Poppy, Ivy, Aster, and Azalea. When I lifted their scraped and bruised bodies from those cages, I wasn’t only making a commitment to protect and care for them, I was also promising to share their stories, to represent them as their advocates while exposing the company responsible for their suffering. 

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Very few stories make it out of the guarded walls of factory farms and slaughterhouses. Very few voices are given an opportunity to be heard, so I vowed to be their megaphone. 

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At sentencing, I was criticized for damaging Perdue’s reputation. I suppose you wanted me to apologize for that, too. The truth is, I am glad their reputation is damaged. They should be held accountable for the cruelty they inflict upon animals and if that accountability won't happen through the legal system, it will have to be through the court of public opinion. 

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For what it’s worth, I think the public has made it resoundingly clear that they feel Perdue should be prosecuted for its crimes. 
I hope you'll take that into consideration and use your power as a judge to do some good for these animals. 

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It won't be long until I'm free. But unless something changes, birds like Poppy, Ivy, Aster, and Azalea, will continue to languish in agony until they die from neglect, a slaughterhouse blade, or the searing pain of a scalding tank. 

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While I hold no remorse in my heart for Perdue and their $10 billion in annual revenue, I am sorry for these animals. I'm sorry those with power continue to ignore their screams, but I promise that it will take a whole lot more than a jail cell to silence my voice and, as long as I live, I will use my voice for them. 

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Until every animal is free,

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Zoe Rosenberg

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P.S. If you thought giving me a taste of what it’s like to live in a cage would dampen my commitment to see animals freed from theirs, you were sorely mistaken.