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Last week, I found out I’ll be going into trial with no legal defenses. The judge ruled that the necessity defense does not apply to nonhuman animals because they are legally “something,” not “someone.” 

I had gone to court a couple weeks prior to argue the opposite. I am currently facing nearly half a decade in jail for rescuing four criminally abused chickens, Poppy, Ivy, Aster, and Azalea, from Perdue’s Petaluma Poultry slaughterhouse. They were suffering from infections, parasites, and small wounds. I took them to get medical care. My prosecutors have tried to paint this act as extreme and illegal, charging me with felonies and misdemeanors and forcing me to wear an ankle monitor for the past year and a half while I await trial. 

I obviously do not deny rescuing these four chickens. I did so proudly and I have openly shared the story of these birds with the world. I do, however, disagree with the prosecutors about my act of rescue being a crime. 

The doctrine of necessity says that it is legally permissible to break the law in order to prevent a greater evil if there are no other reasonable alternatives. Criminal animal cruelty and rampant disease at Perdue’s Petaluma Poultry had been reported to the authorities dozens of times across the span of 5 years. Not a single one of these reports had led to a genuine effort on behalf of law enforcement to investigate misconduct and help the animals. If I had not intervened, I know for certain that Poppy, Ivy, Aster, and Azalea would have sat in their crowded cages, shivering in pain and fear, and no one would have helped them. They would have cried out and begged for aid, and no one would have come. They would have died in pain and agony, with infections and wounds untreated. 

In California, the necessity defense is not worded in a way which excludes nonhuman animals. It protects people who are acting to prevent a greater harm towards “someone.” It does not specify that “someone” must be human. However, in court, my prosecutors argued that nonhuman animals are “something,” not someone. They argued that they are legally equivalent to objects. District Attorney Matthew Hobson said that, “Necessity, outright, does not apply to animals." He concluded that necessity is “about someone, not something,” with animals being “something.” 

 As I sat in court, I had to struggle not to roll my eyes. I hoped that the judge would find their arguments as ridiculous as I did. After all, if animals are truly equivalent to things under the law, then why does California have fairly extensive legislation in place to protect them from bodily harm? 

My judge ended the hearing by thanking both sides for the time and thought they had put into their arguments. He said he would take time to think on it and issue a written ruling. Two and a half weeks later, he denied necessity, arguing that it does not apply to animals. He also determined that even if it did, I did not prevent a greater harm than I caused because my act of rescue temporarily halted production at the slaughterhouse. Essentially, he ruled that a few hours of company profits are worth more than four animals' lives. He ruled that a few hours of lost profits is more damaging than the unimaginable suffering and fear that Poppy, Ivy, Aster and Azalea would have continued to endure if I had not intervened.
Judge Gnoss’s ruling is simply another disturbing reminder that our legal system values money over living, breathing beings with personalities, thoughts and feelings. Yes, this ruling is a huge hit to my own personal odds. It greatly increases the likelihood that I am convicted and potentially sentenced to nearly half a decade in jail. But, this loss doesn’t really feel like my loss. In his ruling, the judge is not just speaking about me and my conduct. He is speaking about animals and who they are and what they are entitled to.

In his ruling on necessity, he was asked to decide if he believes animals are individuals who are entitled to safety and protection, or if they are legally equivalent to inanimate objects. He was asked to make a decision that no human has ever been entitled to make in the first place. Regardless of what he or anyone else writes on a piece of paper, we know the truth. We know that animals feel. They suffer. They have personalities and thoughts, just like we do. 

And every day, tens of thousands of animals enter the heavily guarded fortress of Perdue’s Petaluma Poultry slaughterhouse. They scream out in fear and agony before they choke on their own thick, hot blood. They kick their legs and flap their wings, struggling to escape before they finally grow still in death. Those who are particularly unlucky will be scalded alive in hot water due to negligence that results from Perdue’s rapidly moving slaughter lines. No one should get to say that their suffering doesn’t count. No one should get to say that a company’s financial interests are worth more than their entire lives. 

The concept of human exceptionalism is one of the most absurd ideas our species has ever conjured. We are animals, flesh and bone, just like the rest, and yet we have somehow convinced ourselves that we are superior. 

Why would we ever assume that a being who screams when burned doesn’t feel? Why would we ever assume that a being with a brain, who appears to make decisions, doesn’t think? It seems to me that we only question nonhuman qualities when it is convenient for us, when it allows us to more easily justify violent exploitation. After all, when we meet a being with eyes and ears, we do not question if they see or hear. It is far more bizarre and illogical to think that nonhuman animals are not like us than it is to think that they are. This is not to say that they are like us in every way. Every species and every individual animal, humans included, perceives the world differently. Every species has different modes of navigation, perhaps varying priorities or desires. However, it is undoubtedly true that we all think, feel, and reason in our own ways. No one should get to claim that their way is superior to another’s.

It can be difficult to accept that nonhuman animals are like us in all of the ways that matter. To confront this fact is to confront that we are actively committing the most ghastly, unspeakable atrocities, possibly in the history of all time. It is terrifying to imagine that the cow who is currently having her baby ripped away from her for dairy products is enduring the same level of grief and panic as we would in her place. It is even more terrifying still to remember the scale of this suffering and despair. There are currently over 9 million dairy cows in the United States alone. But please, be courageous. Confront it. Accept it. Fight for them.

The pig who chokes on her own blood in a slaughterhouse, the mouse who weakens from cancer in a laboratory, the chicken who shivers in fear on a slaughter truck, and the fish who suffocates on a ship deck has been forgotten for far too long. Their pleas for help echo against brick walls and closed doors, only to be minimized and erased by privileged humans who our societies bestow with some strange sense of authority.

Judge Gnoss’s ruling will greatly limit what I will be legally permitted to present at my trial this September. It is unlikely I will be able to show the jury much, or perhaps any evidence of the criminal animal cruelty that drove me to step foot in the slaughterhouse on that fateful day in June 2023. It is unlikely that they will be allowed to know about all of my efforts to report the company and seek intervention from law enforcement before intervening myself. 

I am not naive. I know that with this ruling, my chances of winning in court have drastically decreased. However, hope is not lost. 

I still believe there is a chance I could win at trial. A jury can always acquit according to their conscience, and I hope that they will question why a multi-billion dollar company like Perdue is so distraught over the removal of four sick birds. I hope that they will question why the government is wasting an absurd amount of resources to prosecute me for this nonviolent act. Most of all, I hope that the jury, unlike my prosecutors and judge, will see Poppy, Ivy, Aster, and Azalea as individuals deserving of care and compassion. 

And even if I lose, it will not be the end. Every successful social justice movement suffered losses, including losses in court, before ultimately winning for their cause. In the Civil Rights Movement, it was a well-intentioned activist’s loss in court that federally legalized segregation (Plessy v. Ferguson). Despite this setback, a movement of people was still able to bring segregation to its end. 

In my case, a conviction would still come with opportunity. If I lose at trial, I can take my case to an appeals court. At the appellate level, a judge could rule that animals are legally “someone.” They could rule that my judge was wrong, that necessity does, in fact, apply to  nonhuman animals. A ruling of that nature at the appellate level would set important legal precedent for animal rights and animal personhood. 

Regardless of how this case goes, however, I know that we will march on. I know that a day will come when we do not have to submit hundreds of pages of legal arguments and spend hours arguing in court over whether animals are individuals entitled to basic rights. It will simply be a given. A day will come when slaughterhouses like the one Poppy, Ivy, Aster, and Azalea were rescued from have all closed their doors, left simply as reminders of a past that should never be repeated. I do not know if that day is near or far away, but I know that it is coming and that it will be our actions that bring it to life.

In the meantime, I hope to see you at my trial in September to help elevate the voices of these animals both inside and outside of the courtroom. If you haven’t already, you can register to attend here.