When Journalism Becomes ‘Conspiracy’: The Legal Theory Behind Lemon’s Arrest

Federal agents arrested former CNN anchor Don Lemon at a Beverly Hills hotel on charges that should alarm anyone who cares about press freedom. They charged him with working together to break the law by blocking people’s rights—for livestreaming a protest and interviewing participants. The arrest, which happened while he covered the Grammy Awards, represents something extraordinary in American press freedom: federal prosecutors arguing that journalism itself can constitute criminal conspiracy.

The case stems from a January 18 protest at Cities Church in St. Paul, Minnesota. Activists disrupted a service to draw attention to the church’s pastor, who also served as the top ICE official in Minnesota. Don Lemon documented the event, telling his viewers “We’re not part of the activists, but we’re here reporting on them.” Yet prosecutors charged him under the same law originally designed to combat the Ku Klux Klan. They argued that his presence with a camera, his interviews, and his pre-event conversations with sources made him part of a conspiracy.

Two federal judges already rejected the charges before prosecutors went around them to a grand jury. The government’s evidence against the former CNN anchor consists entirely of standard journalistic practices.

The January 18 Protest

The January 18 demonstration was organized by civil rights attorney Nekima Levy Armstrong and other activists. They objected to David Easterwood’s dual role as both pastor and ICE field office director. About 20 to 40 protesters entered the church chanting “ICE out” and “Justice for Renee Good.” They were referencing a 37-year-old Minneapolis mother and U.S. citizen who’d been fatally shot by an ICE agent on January 7 as she sat in her Honda Pilot trying to drive away.

The journalist, working as an independent after his 2023 departure from CNN, livestreamed the event to his social media audience. He interviewed protesters. He interviewed churchgoers. He asked the pastor questions. He stood near participants while filming.

The indictment points to the anchor “taking steps to maintain operational secrecy by reminding certain co-conspirators to not disclose the target of the operation.” He stepped away “so his mic would not accidentally divulge certain” plans. In other words, the government is characterizing basic source protection—not revealing information sources wanted kept confidential—as evidence of criminal intent.

Two Judges Rejected the Case

Two days after the protest, prosecutors asked Judge Douglas Micko, a judge who handles the early stages of cases, to sign arrest warrants for the journalists and others. Micko refused, citing not enough evidence. He approved warrants for some protesters but rejected the government’s case against the journalists.

When prosecutors appealed, Chief Judge Patrick J. Schiltz delivered an even sharper rebuke. In his written decision for the appeals court, Schiltz noted that “the government lumps all eight protestors together and says things that are true of some but not all of them.” He wrote that “two of the five protestors were not protestors at all; instead, they were a journalist and his producer. There is no evidence that those two engaged in any criminal behavior or conspired to do so.”

Rather than accept this determination from two federal judges, prosecutors took their case to a grand jury. In that proceeding, defendants aren’t present, can’t question witnesses, and the standard of proof is far lower. The grand jury returned an indictment on January 30.

That same day, federal agents arrested the former anchor in Beverly Hills while he covered the Grammys. Attorney General Pam Bondi personally announced the arrest on social media, calling the protest a “coordinated attack” and declaring “if you violate that sacred right, we are coming after you.”

The Federal Charges

Don Lemon faces two federal charges. The first is a law from the 1870s, passed after the Civil War, that carries up to ten years in prison. It makes it a crime when “two or more persons conspire to injure, oppress, threaten, or intimidate any person in the free exercise or enjoyment of any right or privilege secured to him by the Constitution.”

The second is the FACE Act, a law that makes it illegal to physically block people from entering clinics or churches. The statute prohibits “force or threat of force or by physical obstruction” that interferes with religious worship.

Prosecutors must prove the journalist used force, threatened force, or physically obstructed worship. Standing in a church with a camera doesn’t meet that standard. Asking questions doesn’t meet that standard. Even being present during a disruption doesn’t meet that standard—unless you’re arguing that journalism itself is obstruction.

Arron Terr, a spokesperson for the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression, put it bluntly: “The government bears a heavy burden to show that Lemon crossed the line from observing and documenting into threatening, obstructing or conspiring to deprive other people of their rights. Based on what we’ve seen so far, it doesn’t look like the government has a strong case.”

The Government’s Evidence

The indictment alleges the former CNN anchor was “part of the group of protesters” who entered the church and “engaged in acts of oppression, intimidation, threats, interference and physical obstruction.” But the government’s own evidence contradicts this characterization.

His livestream shows him distinguishing himself from protesters. He interviewed both sides. He documented what happened. He didn’t chant. He didn’t block anyone. He didn’t threaten anyone.

The prosecution points to pre-event meetings he attended or documented. But journalists routinely meet with sources before covering events. If attending planning meetings makes you part of a criminal plot, then every journalist who’s ever covered a protest march, political rally, or organized demonstration is potentially criminal.

David Harris, a University of Pittsburgh law professor specializing in criminal law, notes that while “charges against the protesters have more merit, given the federal laws against disrupting the free exercise of worship,” the charges against reporters are troubling. He says “charging journalists for being there covering the disruption does not mean they were part of the disruption.”

The Grand Jury Route

The government’s decision to pursue grand jury indictments after two judges rejected the case raises questions about prosecutorial strategy. Grand juries operate under different rules than judicial proceedings. Defendants can’t present evidence. There’s no cross-examination. The prosecutor controls what the grand jury sees and hears.

The old legal saying goes that a prosecutor could “indict a ham sandwich” if they wanted to. The fact that prosecutors secured an indictment from a grand jury after failing before two judges doesn’t validate their case. It shows they found a different procedural pathway.

Experienced prosecutors at the Justice Department reportedly refused to participate in charging the journalists. A different team of prosecutors in Washington had to take over the prosecution, suggesting internal disagreement about whether the case had merit.

When the former anchor appeared in Los Angeles federal court on January 31, the judge released him without requiring bail. The prosecution had requested $100,000 bond and strict conditions. The judge rejected those requests and even granted him permission to travel to France in June. That’s not how judges treat defendants they consider dangerous or likely to flee.

Georgia Fort’s Arrest

Don Lemon wasn’t the only journalist taken into custody. Georgia Fort, a three-time Emmy Award-winning independent journalist and founder of the Center for Broadcast Journalism, was detained the same day. Fort had livestreamed the protest and, like the CNN veteran, identified herself as a member of the media.

She livestreamed her own detention on Facebook, telling viewers: “I’m gonna have to hop here and surrender to agents as a member of the press.”

The Committee to Protect Journalists noted that while 34 journalists were detained in the U.S. in early 2025, only 12 were charged with crimes. Felony indictments like those against the two journalists are rare.

Historical Precedents

During the Standing Rock pipeline protests in 2016, documentary filmmaker Deia Schlosberg was detained while filming activists shutting off emergency pipeline valves. Police told her she was an “accessory to a crime” despite being on public property with her camera.

Schlosberg faced three felony charges carrying a potential 25-year sentence. The charges were suspended and likely dropped, but the case established a principle: even when protesters engage in illegal activity, charging the journalist documenting that activity represents a threat to reporting.

Over 200 people were detained during protests at Trump’s 2017 inauguration, including several journalists and photographers charged with felonies including rioting. In trials of these defendants, courts rejected the broad theories. Most defendants were acquitted; the government dropped many other cases.

The Pentagon Papers case—New York Times Co. v. United States—established that even national security concerns generally can’t stop publication before it happens. The Supreme Court held that the government had not met its “heavy burden” of justifying censorship and that the First Amendment overrides the federal government’s interest in keeping certain documents classified.

Impact on Press Freedom

The indictments have already had a clear impact on press freedom. News organizations are reconsidering their coverage of protests. Freelance journalists covering immigration enforcement have reported increased fear of prosecution. Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass observed that “the arrest of journalists for going into a church in the course of reporting is shocking enough, but what’s even more alarming is that it’s no secret that Don Lemon is a Trump critic.”

That observation points to a central concern: whether this prosecution is driven by law enforcement concerns or by political motivation to silence a critic. Attorney General Bondi’s personal announcement, her characterization of the protest as an “attack,” and the timing during Grammy coverage all suggest political theater rather than routine prosecution.

The Committee to Protect Journalists noted that the Trump administration “has rapidly escalated its attacks on media freedom in the United States in a flurry of executive actions that have made journalists’ ability to report more precarious.”

Context: Renee Good’s Death

The protest the journalist covered was motivated by the death of Renee Good, who was fatally shot by ICE agent Jonathan Ross on January 7. Good wasn’t suspected of any crime—she was shot while sitting in her vehicle as federal agents executed a warrant against a passenger in her car.

An ABC News minute-by-minute analysis of video footage documented that Good began turning her vehicle’s steering wheel to the right—away from the ICE agent—over one second before the first shot was fired. This contradicted government assertions that she was attempting to run down law enforcement.

The protesters’ objection to Easterwood’s dual role as pastor and ICE field office director was rooted in the deaths of Good and another person, Alex Pretti, both killed during federal immigration operations in Minnesota in January.

The Trial Ahead

The defense team, led by prominent criminal defense attorney Abbe Lowell, will likely file requests to throw out the case because there’s not enough evidence. Such motions could result in pre-trial dismissal if the judge agrees that no reasonable jury could convict based on the allegations.

If those motions fail, the case would proceed to trial in federal court in Minnesota. The prosecution would need to establish not merely that the former anchor was present and filming, but that he intended to conspire with others to deprive congregants of their right to religious worship, and that he took specific actions to help that plot.

For the FACE Act charge, prosecutors would need to prove that his presence and questions constituted “physical obstruction”—a definition that stretches beyond the statute’s intended scope.

The trial would present opportunities for First Amendment expert testimony, evidence about journalistic standards and practices, and detailed examination of what he did versus what the government alleges he did.

Decisions in Georgia Fort’s parallel case will likely affect the prosecution. Any favorable outcomes for Fort could benefit the case.

Implications for Journalism

By charging a journalist with plotting a crime for documenting a protest, federal prosecutors are testing whether First Amendment protections for journalists can be limited by stretching the meaning of federal statutes and the FACE Act.

The fact that two separate federal judges rejected the indictments before they reached grand jury proceedings suggests the government faces legal problems. Yet the mere act of prosecution—regardless of outcome—achieves intimidation of journalists and creation of uncertainty about the legal risks of covering protests.

That federal law enforcement would characterize a journalist’s decision to livestream a protest, ask questions, and document events as a criminal plot demonstrates either a misunderstanding of what journalism is or deliberately treating journalism as the same thing as activism for prosecutorial purposes.

Courts will need to decide which interpretation applies and whether the First Amendment still protects the core function of journalism: bearing witness to events of public interest and conveying that witness to the public.

For journalism as a whole, the case sends a signal that will shape coverage decisions in the months and years ahead. Journalists and news organizations will weigh the legal risks of covering protests more carefully, and some may decide that risk is too great.

When he walked out of the Los Angeles courthouse to supporters chanting “Freedom of the press!” he declared: “I will not be silenced. I look forward to my day in court.” That day will determine not only his fate, but the fate of every journalist who might consider covering a protest in the future.

This article analyzes protest and activism tactics for educational purposes. We aim to contribute to effective and ethical efforts across the political spectrum, and we present diverse viewpoints and ideas without endorsement.