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What to know about the civil rights charges Don Lemon faces for covering church protest in Minnesota

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What to know about the civil rights charges Don Lemon faces for covering church protest in Minnesota
News

News

What to know about the civil rights charges Don Lemon faces for covering church protest in Minnesota

2026-01-31 13:13 Last Updated At:13:20

Nine people, including former CNN anchor Don Lemon and another journalist — have been charged with violating two different federal laws in connection with the protest that interrupted a worship service at a Minnesota church earlier this month.

The group that barged into a worship service that Sunday was upset that the head of a local field office for U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement serves as a pastor. The protest was quickly denounced by President Donald Trump, Attorney General Pam Bondi and other officials, as well as many religious leaders.

Lemon and a local reporter were covering the protest on Jan. 18 at the Cities Church in St. Paul. A grand jury in Minnesota indicted Lemon and others on charges of conspiracy and interfering with the First Amendment rights of worshippers. The indictment alleges various actions by the group that entered the church, including what Lemon said as he reported on the event for his livestream show.

The arrests of Lemon and independent journalist Georgia Fort are especially troubling for legal experts and media groups who worry about the chilling effect on coverage of the Trump administration.

David Harris, a University of Pittsburgh law professor specializing in criminal law, said the charges against the protesters are more tenable, given the federal laws against disrupting the free exercise of worship. “A court will have to sort that out,” he said.

But charges against reporters are troubling, he said.

“Charging journalists for being there covering the disruption does not mean they were part of the disruption,” Harris said. “Don Lemon and other journalists are the way that we the public are finding out what is happening in these spaces,” he said. “They are our eyes and ears. The message that is being sent is that journalists like Don Lemon and others should feel intimidated from doing this.”

The two key laws cited in the complaints against those who were arrested were passed more than a century apart — one rooted in efforts to prevent intimidation by the post-Civil War Ku Klux Klan and the other to enable access to abortion clinics, though they both have had wider applications.

Here are some details about those laws:

The Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances law, known as the FACE Act for short, was passed in 1994 to help ensure that patients seeking care at an abortion clinic — as well as the doctors and nurses who work there — could safely access the facilities that often draw protests. It followed incidents of violence targeting clinic workers.

A Republican-sponsored clause that provided for penalties for disruptions of worship services was also incorporated into the law.

Anti-abortion conservatives have denounced the law, focusing on the clinic protections. Trump last year pardoned several people convicted for blockading clinics. His Justice Department scaled back FACE Act prosecutions of those accused of blocking clinics, claiming there had been a “weaponization” of the law.

But the U.S. Supreme Court, despite having overturned the Roe v. Wade decision that had legalized abortion nationwide, last year refused to hear a challenge to the constitutionality of FACE.

In 2025, 42 House Republicans co-sponsored legislation, introduced by Rep. Chip Roy, R-Texas, to repeal the FACE Act. The conservative Heritage Foundation supported the stalled repeal effort, calling the FACE Act “an ideological weapon” designed to suppress anti-abortion activity.

They have contended the worship-protection aspect of the law hasn't been invoked in the past. In 2025, the Justice Department did invoke the act in a lawsuit against demonstrators who protested outside of a synagogue.

Someone charged with their first violation of the FACE Act could be fined or sentenced up to one year in jail. Subsequent offenses, or charges that involve injuries, deaths or damage, could face tougher penalties.

The other charges against Lemon and Fort are based on a law commonly known as the Conspiracy Against Rights law, which was enacted shortly after the Civil War. It was originally designed to target vigilante groups such as the Ku Klux Klan. The law prohibits intimidating or otherwise preventing someone from exercising constitutional rights.

The Klan had been targeting those newly freed from slavery, but over the years the law has been revised to apply to a wide range of violations of constitutional rights. It was used to charge suspects in the “Mississippi Burning” killings of three civil rights workers in 1964. It has been used in cases ranging from church arsons and antisemitic intimidation to political conspiracy and witness tampering.

The law carries a penalty of up to 10 years in prison –- or more if it involves injury, death or destruction of property.

Harris said it's important for Americans to be able to see what's happening so they can make up their own minds, instead of only hearing officials describe what happened.

“We all have had the experience of them telling us things that simply do not square with what we see with our own eyes," he said. “Journalists being present to witness these things and report them are crucial to our being able to make our minds about what our government is doing.”

Jonathan Manes, senior counsel in the MacArthur Justice Center’s Illinois Office, agreed.

“It's astonishing that the federal government is criminally charging journalists for covering a protest,” said Manes, whose work focuses on governmental civil rights violations.

“The crucial point is that a journalist covering activities going on is not part of those activities,” he said. “None of this is to say that the protest here was a good thing or that it was even allowed, but journalists shouldn’t be charged federally with conspiracy when they’re covering it."

AP reporters Tiffany Stanley in Washington and Audrey McAvoy in Honolulu contributed.

Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP’s collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.

FILE - Don Lemon attends the 15th annual CNN Heroes All-Star Tribute at the American Museum of Natural History, Sunday, Dec. 12, 2021, in New York. (Photo by Evan Agostini/Invision/AP, File)

FILE - Don Lemon attends the 15th annual CNN Heroes All-Star Tribute at the American Museum of Natural History, Sunday, Dec. 12, 2021, in New York. (Photo by Evan Agostini/Invision/AP, File)

Cities Church is seen in St. Paul, Minn. where activists shut down a service claiming the pastor was also working as an ICE agent, Monday, Jan. 19, 2026 in St. Paul, Minn. (AP Photo/Angelina Katsanis)

Cities Church is seen in St. Paul, Minn. where activists shut down a service claiming the pastor was also working as an ICE agent, Monday, Jan. 19, 2026 in St. Paul, Minn. (AP Photo/Angelina Katsanis)

RALEIGH, N.C. (AP) — Hold on to those Thanksgiving turkeys! WKRP is coming to Cincinnati — for real this time.

“I cannot, by contract, tell you when. I cannot tell you who. But I can tell you, direct to the camera, WKRP, after 48 years, is coming to Cincinnati,” D.P. McIntire, who runs the media nonprofit that is auctioning the famous call letters, told The Associated Press. “Book it! It’s done!”

The call sign was made famous by “WKRP in Cincinnati,” a CBS television sitcom that ran from 1978 to 1982. It made stars of actors like Loni Anderson and Richard Sanders, whose bumbling newsman Les Nessman presided over a Thanksgiving promotion gone bad when live but flightless turkeys were dropped from a helicopter.

McIntire remembers watching the show’s first episode — featuring disc jockeys Dr. Johnny Fever (Howard Hesseman) and Venus Flytrap (Tim Reid) — in the living room with his parents and older sister.

“And at the end of the 30-minute episode,” he said, “I got up and I proclaimed, `I’m going to be in radio. And if I ever have the opportunity, I’m going to run a station called WKRP.’”

McIntire said he got his first on-air job at 13 as a news anchor at WNQQ “Wink FM” in Blairsville, Pennsylvania.

Fast forward to 2014, when his North Carolina-based nonprofit acquired the call sign from the Federal Communications Commission. Stations in Dallas, Georgia, and Alexandria, Tennessee, previously bore the letters.

McIntire laughs as he recalls his chat with a woman in the agency’s audio division.

He had two sets of call letters in mind. She told him he needed a third.

“Being the jokester that I am, I said, `Well, if you need three, and if it’s available, we’ll take WKRP,’” he said. “And 90 seconds later, she came back and she said, `Mr. McIntire. Congratulations. You’re the general manager of WKRP in Raleigh, North Carolina.’”

WKRP-LP — 101.9 on the FM dial — went live Nov. 30, 2015. The LP stands for “low power,” a class of station created to serve more local audiences that didn’t want mass-market content.

“Our format is what radio used to be 35 years ago in small-town America,” he said. “There is Greats of the 80s, Sounds of the 70s, 90s Rewind.”

LPFM is restricted to nonprofit organizations like his Oak City Media, and it’s definitely local.

“Your broadcast capacity is limited to 100 watts,” McIntire said. “So, your average range is between, depending on your terrain and circumstances, 4 and 12 miles (6 and 19 kilometers) in any direction. Enough to cover a small town.”

And, by necessity, it’s a low-budget affair.

The transmitter is in a corner of McIntire’s garage, between a recycling bin and the cleaning supplies. The broadcast antenna sits atop a 25-foot (7.62-meter) metal flagpole in the backyard. The studio — microphones and a mixing board hooked up to a computer — is in McIntire’s basement.

Like the WKRP of television, McIntire and his partners set out to be “irreverent.” One of their offerings is a two-hour show called “Weird Al and Friends,” focusing on the satirical works of Weird Al Yankovic.

They even had an annual Thanksgiving turkey giveaway. But don’t call the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals — they hand out gift certificates to a local grocery store.

“We don’t toss them out of helicopters,” he said with a laugh.

After 10 years on the air, the 56-year-old McIntire decided it was time to pass the reins.

“We’re in a position where the older members like me who started the station are turning the leadership over to younger members,” he said. “They’re not interested in radio.”

They put out a call for bids to use the call letters on FM and AM radio, as well as television and digital television.

They intend to use the proceeds for a new nonprofit venture called Independent Broadcast Consultants. He said IBC will be “geared specifically toward helping these new broadcasters get up and running, get the consulting that they need in order to be, hopefully, more successful than we have been.”

Oak City Media was all set to hand off the television-related suffixes — WKRPTV and WKRPDT — when another group defaulted on the agreement, McIntire said. But he said the Cincinnati deal is in the bag, he just can’t legally discuss it.

“It will be radio,” he said. “But that’s all I can tell you at this time.”

Whatever they do with the call sign, he hopes they will be true to the show that inspired it.

“It has a special place in the hearts of an awful lot of people,” he said. “And we have been very, very, very proud to have been a steward of that legacy.”

D.P. McIntire leans against a deck beneath the WKRP radio antenna in the backyard of his home in Raleigh, N.C., on Thursday, April 2, 2026. (AP Photo/Allen G. Breed)

D.P. McIntire leans against a deck beneath the WKRP radio antenna in the backyard of his home in Raleigh, N.C., on Thursday, April 2, 2026. (AP Photo/Allen G. Breed)

D.P. McIntire points to the transmitter for WKRP radio in a corner of his garage in Raleigh, N.C., on Thursday, April 2, 2026. (AP Photo/Allen G. Breed)

D.P. McIntire points to the transmitter for WKRP radio in a corner of his garage in Raleigh, N.C., on Thursday, April 2, 2026. (AP Photo/Allen G. Breed)

The WKRP radio antenna sits atop a 25-foot flagpole behind D.P. McIntire's home in Raleigh, N.C., on Thursday, April 2, 2026. (AP Photo/Allen G. Breed)

The WKRP radio antenna sits atop a 25-foot flagpole behind D.P. McIntire's home in Raleigh, N.C., on Thursday, April 2, 2026. (AP Photo/Allen G. Breed)

A photo of the cast members of the sitcom "WKRP in Cincinnati" sits in a window at the home of D.P. McIntire in Raleigh, N.C., on Thursday, April 2, 2026. (AP Photo/Allen G. Breed)

A photo of the cast members of the sitcom "WKRP in Cincinnati" sits in a window at the home of D.P. McIntire in Raleigh, N.C., on Thursday, April 2, 2026. (AP Photo/Allen G. Breed)

D.P. McIntire stands beneath a WKRP banner in the backyard of his home in Raleigh, N.C., on Thursday, April 2, 2026. (AP Photo/Allen G. Breed)

D.P. McIntire stands beneath a WKRP banner in the backyard of his home in Raleigh, N.C., on Thursday, April 2, 2026. (AP Photo/Allen G. Breed)

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