IN THOSE SHOES

Dear Spike:

I last saw Tim DeCristopher at the Salt Lake Hilton, where the Utah Democrats were holding their annual convention and he had just given a nominating speech for Bill McDonnell, a candidate for the vacant seat of the House district where our family lives.

Afterward, I pulled him aside.

"I guess Bill didn't mind the idea of being nominated by a convicted felon, eh?"

Tim looked down at his shoes. And I worried that my joke might have been ill-timed and insensitive.

"Nah," he said finally with a smile. "Funny thing is I've been asked to give two speeches today."

When we were done chatting, I shook his hand and — as I sometimes do — reached over with my free hand to squeeze his arm. I was surprised to feel his bicep bulging underneath his shirt and then, upon quick reflection, realized that it made perfect sense.

Tim has long said that he's prepared to go to prison for what he's done. He's also made it clear that he'd rather not. I'd be trying to bulk up, too, if I were in his shoes.

Of course, I'm not in his shoes. Couldn't fill them if I tried. I'd like to think that I'm a brave person, but I'm not that brave.

In recent weeks, some people have compared Tim to the Rosa Parks of the environmental movement. I don't know if that's true or not. If it is, it's safe to say that you'll one day understand the context for all of this. If not, a little background:

It was back in December of 2008 that this all began. George W. Bush's eight-year presidency was coming to an end, and some environmentalists believed his administration was rushing to sell off oil and gas leases before the next president could order a more thorough legal and environmental review. It was in the midst of this that Tim walked into a U.S. Bureau of Land Management auction in Salt Lake City and began to bid for a few plots in an attempt to keep energy developers off the land for a few precious weeks.

He won one. Then another. And before suspicious BLM officials suspended the auction, Tim had the rights to 14 leases in eastern Utah — and no way to pay for the $1.8 million he'd bid to get them.

Our government was not amused. And although his supporters quickly raised the money to pay for the leases, Tim was charged with disrupting the federal auction. The case went to trial earlier this year. The judge wouldn't permit Tim to argue that his actions were a necessary step in the battle to prevent climate change. He was convicted on all counts, but permitted to remain free on bail until his sentencing.

That happened today. Tim was sentenced to spend the next two years in prison.

We're a nation of laws. And I've only known a few people in my life who would dispute that those laws aren't a vital part of what hold us together as a society.

That doesn't mean that every law is just — or that the law is always justly applied.

They aren't and it isn't.

But Tim knew that when he walked into that auction. And while he understood the consequences, he believed the stakes were much, much higher.

In a non-violent way, he raged against something he believed to be unjust.

I stand in awe.

Now, I should make something clear: I've always felt that as entrenched and corrupt as our system can be, there are still ways to effect change meaningfully within the system. That is, after all, what eventually brought the oil leases to a halt — a lawsuit was filed against the government, a judge issued a restraining order and President Obama's administration ultimately suspended the leases.

But Tim could not have know any of that was going to transpire. Seeing what he thought was his last, best opportunity to disrupt the sale, he acted.

Illegally? Yes.

And bravely, too.

Our actions often have consequences. And when you accept those consequences as a cost of doing what you believe is right, you're walking in the footsteps of some very amazing people.

My God, I'd hate to see you in those shoes. But I'd be very proud, too.

Love,
dad