Washington jury convicts three protesters on federal conspiracy charges for blocking ICE transport
A federal jury in Spokane, Washington, found three protesters guilty of conspiracy charges for attempting to block Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers from transporting two detained illegal immigrants. The verdict, handed down Thursday after a nearly two-week trial, marks a clear message from federal prosecutors: obstructing immigration enforcement carries real consequences.
Jac Archer, Justice Forral, and Bajun Mavalwalla II each face up to six years in federal prison and $250,000 in fines. They were among nine protesters arrested on conspiracy charges after hundreds of demonstrators swarmed an ICE facility near downtown Spokane last June, responding to a Facebook call to action from former Spokane City Council President Ben Stuckart.
Stuckart urged people to join him in blocking an immigration transfer bus that was set to move two detained illegal immigrants from Spokane to Tacoma. Hundreds showed up. Nine were arrested. And Stuckart, the man who lit the match, took a guilty plea in exchange of a reduced sentence and never showed up at the trial of the three who refused to cut deals.
The man who started it all didn't finish it
That absence did not go unnoticed. Washington State Representative Natasha Hill, a Democrat from Spokane, called Stuckart out by name in remarks after the verdict.
"You started this and you couldn't even show up to finish it. So I call on you, and I call on others to do what you said you were going to do, and stand up for your community because the fight is not over with this conviction."
Hill's rebuke landed squarely on a man who rallied hundreds of people to break federal law, then quietly negotiated his own plea deal while others went to trial. Stuckart posted on Facebook after the verdict, expressing sympathy for the convicted.
"I feel awful about the guilty verdict. I feel awful for Jac, Bajun and Justice and their families. I support those that took plea deals, and I support those that went to trial."
Stuckart also claimed he stayed away from the courtroom because he was told attending could violate his parole. That explanation raises its own questions, namely, what parole conditions Stuckart is under and why, but the optics are plain enough. The instigator walked away with a lighter sentence while three others now face years behind bars.
Five pleas, three convictions, one pattern
Of the nine protesters arrested, five besides Stuckart accepted guilty pleas for reduced sentences. Only Archer, Forral, and Mavalwalla chose to fight the charges at trial. Defense attorneys said they expect to appeal, though they have not specified on what grounds.
Bajun Mavalwalla, Sr., the father of one of the convicted defendants and himself a congressional candidate, called the prosecution "political and vindictive." He suggested federal prosecutors wanted to "make an example" of the defendants.
Perhaps they did. And perhaps that is exactly the point. When a former city council president uses social media to mobilize a crowd to physically obstruct federal officers carrying out lawful duties, and when hundreds answer that call, the federal government has a legitimate interest in making clear that conspiracy to impede law enforcement is a crime, not a protest tactic.
The case fits a broader pattern of federal prosecutors holding individuals and organizations accountable when they cross the line from political speech into criminal conduct.
Stuckart's role and the asylum connection
Stuckart's involvement went deeper than a Facebook post. He had personally sponsored one of the two detained illegal immigrants for asylum. That personal stake apparently drove him to rally a crowd to physically prevent federal officers from doing their jobs.
The two detainees were being transported from Spokane to Tacoma, a routine transfer within the federal immigration system. Protesters attempted to block that transfer, though the specific method of obstruction has not been detailed in public reporting. What is clear is that enough people participated, and with enough coordination, for federal prosecutors to bring conspiracy charges against nine of them.
The federal government's willingness to pursue these cases reflects a broader shift in how the Justice Department is prioritizing immigration enforcement through its legal apparatus.
A nearly two-week trial
The trial itself lasted close to two weeks, a substantial proceeding for what some on the left have tried to frame as mere civil disobedience. Federal conspiracy charges are not misdemeanor trespassing citations. They carry serious prison time and heavy fines. The jury weighed the evidence and returned guilty verdicts on all three defendants.
No details about the jury's deliberation timeline or specific arguments presented by prosecutors have been made public. But the outcome speaks for itself: twelve citizens reviewed the facts and concluded that Archer, Forral, and Mavalwalla conspired to impede federal officers.
When protest becomes obstruction
There is a line between lawful protest and criminal interference with federal operations. The First Amendment protects speech, assembly, and the right to petition the government. It does not protect physically blocking federal officers from carrying out court-authorized transfers of detained individuals.
That distinction matters. The defendants and their supporters may frame this as political persecution. But the jury disagreed. And the facts, a coordinated social media mobilization, hundreds of participants descending on a federal facility, a deliberate effort to prevent officers from moving detainees, point to something well beyond a spontaneous demonstration.
The case also raises uncomfortable questions for local Democratic officials in Spokane. Representative Hill's comments suggest frustration not with the prosecution but with Stuckart's failure to stand by the people he mobilized. Yet Hill's own framing, calling the conviction a fight that "is not over", suggests she views the legal outcome as a political setback rather than a legitimate exercise of federal law.
Federal courts have consistently held that criminal conduct by public figures or those acting in coordination with them warrants prosecution regardless of political motivation claims.
What remains unanswered
Several questions linger. The specific federal statute under which the conspiracy charges were brought has not been publicly identified in available reporting. The names of the two detained illegal immigrants have not been disclosed. The precise sentences imposed on the six who accepted plea deals remain unclear.
Stuckart's parole situation is also murky. He claims he was advised that attending the trial could trigger a violation, but the nature and origin of his parole conditions have not been explained. For a former city council president who organized a mass obstruction of federal law enforcement, those details matter.
The defense team's planned appeal adds another layer. Without knowing the legal grounds, it is impossible to assess its prospects. But the conviction stands for now, and sentencing will determine whether the court imposes penalties anywhere near the statutory maximum of six years.
The broader federal enforcement posture continues to evolve as well. The Justice Department has shown increasing willingness to bring serious federal charges in cases involving interference with government operations, signaling that obstruction of any kind will be met with the full weight of the law.
Accountability, finally
The Spokane case is straightforward in its essentials. A local politician used social media to organize a mob to block federal officers. Hundreds came. Nine were charged. Six cut deals. Three went to trial and lost.
The man who started it all pleaded guilty, stayed home during the trial, and posted about feeling "awful" on Facebook. The people who followed his lead now face prison.
That pattern, leaders who incite and followers who pay, is as old as politics itself. But federal conspiracy law exists precisely for moments like this. When someone organizes a coordinated effort to prevent the government from enforcing immigration law, "I feel awful" is not a legal defense. It is not even an adequate apology.
The jury got this one right. Laws mean nothing if the people who break them face no consequences, and the people who organize the lawbreaking face even fewer.

