Lord Of The CHAZ: When BLM Took Over A Portion Of Seattle, I Had To Go

The following is an excerpt from the book “Riot Diet: One Man’s Radical Ride Through America In Chaos,” by Richie McGinniss. (Pigeon Press: November, 2024.)

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June 11, 2020, 9:01 PM PST: Outside City Limits, Seattle, Washington

Jorge, Shelby, and I were packed in the back of our rideshare from Seattle airport while I marveled at the sight of the modern cityscape for the first time. I narrated while zooming the camera into the fog beyond the Seattle Seahawks stadium.

“Well, folks, somewhere over there there’s a new country. And we’re gonna see it.”

After a week of protests and multiple riots on Seattle’s Capitol Hill, on Friday, June 5, Mayor Jenny Durkan promised a thirty-day ban on the use of chemical irritants, pending an internal review. “This review should better emphasize de-escalation techniques.” What ensued for the next two days was anything but “de-escalation” and was instead a continuation of the same s*** show — rioters threw bricks and bottles, and shot fireworks at police. By Sunday, June 7, under a barrage of improvised projectiles, cops desperately discharged chlorine tear gas, the chemical irritant that the city’s politicians pledged not to use.

I watched the escalation of progressive violence from a computer screen in DC. It concluded with a police evacuation as cops hastily loaded onto armored vehicles and drove away from Seattle’s East Precinct. Hundreds of jubilant activists and agitators filled the void behind them. A trumpet man ushered in the occupying army of demonstrators. The boarded-up front of the station endured over a week of antipolice protests-turned-riots before they finally capitulated to the mob.

As night fell on Monday, the BLM demonstrators took control of the front of the station. By sunrise the next morning, they set up roadblocks and established checkpoints, expanding their inchoate dominion to a five-block area in the heart of Seattle’s Capitol Hill. The ousters triumphantly named their new fiefdom “the CHAZ” (Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone).

Seattle Police Chief Carmen Best, the first black person to occupy the position, justified the boarding up of the station in a press conference after the establishment of CHAZ. “This is an exercise in trust and de-escalation.” In reality, a major American city had ceded control of a multi-block area on their Capitol Hill, creating a Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) that would be ruled over by a bunch of young activists and whatever other malcontents decided to join. Among the demands from various protesters, one theme was consistent: reduce Seattle’s law enforcement budget by at least 50 percent or institute the total abolition of the police force.

On Tuesday morning, Shelby sent me a video that showed the movement’s self-proclaimed leader and local rapper, Raz Simone. With a rifle in his hands, Raz declared the area unequivocally off-limits to police. I convinced my bosses that we could recoup the costs of a trip, and Shelby, Jorge, and I flew out on the afternoon of Thursday, June 11. We splayed out across entire rows of the plane as we crossed the continent to the newly independent territory in the Pacific Northwest. With the coronavirus scare reaching a climax, airports in both DC and Seattle were as empty as the abandoned East Police Precinct.

Cover Photo: E. Mackey

On our ride to Capitol Hill beneath the slanting sun, we drove past Seattle’s Pioneer District, where the city’s founders had settled in 1852. At the center of the district rose the Smith Tower, which was the tallest building west of the Mississippi River at the time of its completion in 1914. The thirty-four-story building was one of the oldest monuments to corporate prospecting in Seattle. It was constructed in neoclassical architecture by New York typewriter and firearms tycoon Lyman Smith. In the background of my shot, the Smith Tower was dwarfed by larger skyscrapers that rose into the low clouds. They housed far larger and wealthier corporations.

Somewhere beneath the misty skyline was the CHAZ, the post-modern experiment without sanctioned businesses, or police, or posing politicians.

While videos of armed individuals patrolling the lawless zone at night had been widely broadcast on corners of the web, the prevailing institutional media narrative was that the occupied protest was very much a “partylike atmosphere.” Cable newscasters parroted this line from their hits on location during broadcast hours, though none of them covered the situation late at night—after they returned to their luxury hotels for the evening.

David Ryder/Getty Images

The debate over CHAZ entered national politics the day before we arrived when President Trump tweeted, “Radical Left Governor @JayInslee and the Mayor of Seattle are being taunted and played at a level our great Country has never seen before. Take back your city NOW. If you don’t do it, I will. This is not a game. These ugly Anarchists must be stopped IMMEDIATELY. MOVE FAST!”

In tacit support of the protest, Democratic Governor Jay Inslee responded, “What we will not allow are threats of military violence against Washingtonians coming from the White House. The U.S. military serves to protect Americans, not the fragility of an insecure president.”

Then in another Tweet in the same thread the governor stated, “The Trump Administration knows what Washington needs right now — the resources to fight the COVID-19 pandemic.”

The progressive Mayor of Seattle Jenny Durkan weighed in as well, with a reference to President Trump’s retreat to the bunker under the White House on Memorial Day less than two weeks prior. “Make us all safer. Go back to your bunker. #BlackLivesMatter.” The same day, Mayor Durkan was asked by CNN’s Chris Cuomo how long her city’s Capitol Hill would remain like this. Her response was, “I don’t know. We could have the summer of love!”

At the entrance of the CHAZ, a sloppily spray-painted piece of plywood read “WELCOME TO THE CALZONE.” Another, more formal sign painted white and cut in the shape of a house, said in neatly stenciled letters “YOU ARE NOW ENTERING FREE CAP HILL.”

Can’t be worse than that open-air drug market in San Juan, I thought. An amalgamation of city planters, road construction dividers, metal barricades, and plywood created a de facto wall that marked the border. The individuals who tended the checkpoint wore all black and carried walkie-talkies, but they appeared more interested in socializing than security.

SEATTLE, WA – JUNE 14: A signs reads “Capitol Hill Occupied Protest.” (Photo by David Ryder/Getty Images)

The first thing we recorded as we stepped inside was a giant “BLACK LIVES MATTER” mural that spanned the width of East Pine Street, stretching eastward two blocks up the hill to the police precinct.

The purple letters of the mural were beautified with intricate decorations that embossed the political mantra into a work of art — much more creative than the neon yellow block letters in DC. With dozens of paint cans and brushes scattered on the roadway, the main drag looked more like an art studio than the center of a major American metropolis. To our left, new wave music blared from massive speakers on an astroturfed baseball diamond turned campsite.

At the intersection of East Pine Street and 11th Avenue next to the R in the “BLACK LIVES MATTER” stood a piece of plywood that read “DEFUND/NOT DECAF/COFFEE TEA COCOA.” The neatly hand-painted sign featured a red-and-black color scheme and font that eerily resembled the Antifa logo.

Antifa, short for “antifascist,” represented a political movement that often employed violent tactics in its opposition to the 2016 election of President Donald Trump. Its black-and-red logo harkened back to the antifascist faction that opposed Hitler’s rise to power in 1930s Nazi Germany. Though I’d heard much about “Antifa” in American media, their decentralized organization and black-bloc attire made identification of its actual adherents difficult if not impossible. That is, unless they admitted to it or were literally flying its flag. By design, the core of the group lurked anonymously through the demi-world of the extremist left that sought the total overthrow of the capitalist system.

Directly in the center of the intersection, a set of couches were arranged in a circle. I narrated from behind the camera adding context for the viewers, “We got a lounge zone over here?” Two signs drawn on cardboard propped up by art easels with sharpie-drawn letters said “CONVERSATION CAFÉ/LET’S TALK ABOUT ANTIFASCISM.”

The ground was covered in all forms of graffiti from chalk to spray and acrylic paints with messages like “FREE THE PROTESTERS” and “F*** THE POLICE” written in elegantly scripted periwinkle letters. The patrons of the café sat forward in their relaxed furniture, seemingly engaged in some intense political discussion.

I panned the camera across the intersection lined with tables featuring donated food: bags of chips, granola bars, bottles of water, and toiletries. Shelby and I walked over to the main table of the “NO COP CO-OP,” which was basically an open-air grocery store with a variety of selections, and plenty of choices for vegans. Behind the tables stood a guy who seemed like he oversaw the operation. He wore a black long-sleeved shirt with a generic blue mask, and he had a pierced right ear. He appeared friendly enough. I asked, “So what’s going on here, can you tell us what’s up?”

SEATTLE, WA – JUNE 12. Photo by Karen Ducey/Getty Images.

He seemed unfazed by the cell phone camera aimed in his direction and enthusiastically explained the origin story of the CO-OP, “The lady who set this up sent a tweet, ‘Yeah can I get some tents,’ then people brought tents and umbrellas, and she started bringing food from her own pantry. Then people started donating more food as we went. Yeah, so this is what we have now, free food; we also have other stuff that people dropped off like helmets, masks, all that cool stuff.”

I zoomed in on the helmets and the plastic face shields on display, both of which would be helpful protection from pepper spray and other non-lethals in the event of a confrontation with police. “Yeah so, we’re a market, we don’t accept cash so if you guys have food in your pantry, come down to CHAZ and donate it!”

I pushed for more on how this market functioned. “So the form of payment is basically like a bartering system?”

He responded eagerly, “Yes, no government, nothing except—”

Someone outside the frame who perused the selection interrupted his spiel, “Hey, can I grab this?”

The guy responded quickly, “Yes, please, whatever you like.”

I continued my informal interview, “So it’s like some people bring their goods and services and they exchange them for other goods and services?”

He nodded his head affirmatively, “Yeah.”

I replied, “Gotcha.”

Shelby picked up the interview where I left off, “So you guys are open twenty-four hours?”

He replied, this time with hesitation, “Uh, I said that earlier, and she kinda got mad at me, she’s like, ‘Are you staying?’” He gestured to an older woman, presumably the aforementioned founder of the NO COP CO-OP. With a nervous chuckle, he continued, “But, yeah, I’m staying here all night. I work the night shift as it is, so it’s my day off.”

Shelby had zeroed in on the disorganization of the whole operation with one question.

Now that she was onto something, she asked one more. “Is there always someone here? What happens when…”

He responded, “Yeah?” But the way he said it made it sound more like a question.

“I mean it’s only been a few days, so whoever takes over takes over.” It was clear to both of us that this guy had no clue what the long- or even short-term goals were for the operation.

Shelby and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows as if to say, “This ain’t gonna last.”

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This is an excerpt from “Riot Diet: One Man’s Radical Ride Through America In Chaos,” by Richie McGinniss. (Pigeon Press: November, 2024.) Republished by permission of Pigeon Press. Cover Photo: E. Mackey @emackeycreates

The views expressed in this excerpt are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The Daily Wire.