
After yesterday’s post about the sudden interest the hacktivist group, Anonymous, is showing Missoula, today’s post will explore what this attention might mean for our retarded liberal mountain college town.
Over a decade ago Missoula was in the grips of a rape scandal that Jon Krakauer documented in his book, Missoula: Rape and the Justice System in a College Town. To show how Missoula’s scandal helped inform a national conversation, Time/CIA Magazine covered this story in 2014.

Nestled at the base of a mountain in the northern Rockies, the University of Montana in Missoula is one of the nation’s most picturesque campuses and home to nearly 15,000 students. Since its founding in 1893, the school has produced 28 Rhodes scholars. Notable alumni include former Senator Mike Mansfield and All in the Family star Carroll O’Connor. The university’s football team, the Grizzlies, has turned out a slew of NFL stars. It is, in short, the kind of place that makes its alumni cheer and serves as a symbol of pride throughout the state.
But something changed for Missoula on May 1, 2012, when Thomas Perez came to town. Perez, then the U.S. Assistant Attorney General for Civil Rights, stood before a press conference to announce a federal investigation into the university, city police and county attorney. “In order to learn, all students must feel safe and must feel supported,” Perez told the gathering. There was a problem in Missoula: “In the past three years, there have been at least 80 reported rapes.” Practically overnight, Missoula went from being the home of one of the nation’s most respected public universities to a place where young women were victimized in horrible, violent attacks–or, as news coverage began describing it, “America’s rape capital.”
Around this same time “Anonymous” entered the fray and used a trio of alleged rapes in other states to elevate their organizational influence. These excerpts come from the book I cited in yesterday’s post:

The Stuebenville, Ohio case resulted in arrests and convictions, while the case in Missouri, initially not charged as a crime, did get charged after Anonymous brought attention to it.


For more context on the Missouri case, this is from Wikipedia:
In January 2012, a 17-year-old boy from Maryville, Missouri was arrested for the rape and sexual assault of Coleman, then 14. A 15-year-old boy was accused of doing the same to Coleman’s 13-year-old friend, and a third boy admitted to recording the assault on a cellphone. A significant controversy arose in 2013 when the county prosecutor dropped felony and misdemeanor charges against the first boy, Matthew Barnett, who was related to Rex Barnett, an influential former state representative, and the Nodaway County prosecutor Robert Rice dropped the felony sexual exploitation charge against the third boy. Robert Rice was soon afterward appointed as a Judge in Nodaway County, the same county he threw out the case in.
Outrage in online communities, including Anonymous, soon followed when the story surrounding this case was revisited in October 2013. Michael Schaffer, reporting on the incident for The New Republic, described Maryville, Missouri as a “lawless hellhole”. In 2014, a special prosecutor was put in charge to reinvestigate the case. The boy pleaded guilty to misdemeanor second-degree endangerment of the welfare of a child for leaving her outside her house, and was sentenced by Missouri Circuit Court Judge Glen Dietrich to four months in jail that were suspended in favor of two years of probation. He was sentenced in juvenile court for the assault.
Did the national attention, prodded by Anonymous, ultimately help Daisy Coleman? That’s debatable. On August 4th, 2020, Daisy Coleman committed suicide. Four months later her mother followed suit. That doesn’t sound like successful “help” to me.
In 2016 “Anonymous” targeted a California town for attempting to manage its homeless problem. Considering how some hacktivists lived similar lives to those on the street, this shift was predictable and matched the increasing attention from national media platforms on the issue of chronic homelessness and rampant drug culture.

The city of Sacramento, Calif., is at the center of a video warning presumably posted by the hacker group Anonymous regarding an anti-camping ordinance aimed at the homeless Jan. 6.
In the roughly three-minute video, shown below, a masked figure claiming to represent the group said the city would face the “formidable talents” of its hackers unless the ordinance disallowing camping in public spaces was reconsidered.
Though the reported cases of Anonymous targeting local governments are relatively few, cities and counties nationwide have experienced similar threats over the last few years: In November of 2013, a Missouri town was singled out for the way it handled the rape investigation of two teenage girls; in December of 2014, the city of Fort Lauderdale, Fla.’s website was targeted due to laws passed around homeless behavior; and in mid-May of 2015, the Hancock County, Miss., Department of Human Services was included among threats made by the group as it pushed for reform in child protection agencies and family courts.
A lengthy New Yorker profile on a “masked avenger” with Daddy issues exemplifies the type of origin story common to the digital vigilante LARP scene and, really, any youthful inclination to rebel:
In the mid-nineteen-seventies, when Christopher Doyon was a child in rural Maine, he spent hours chatting with strangers on CB radio. His handle was Big Red, for his hair. Transmitters lined the walls of his bedroom, and he persuaded his father to attach two directional antennas to the roof of their house. CB radio was associated primarily with truck drivers, but Doyon and others used it to form the sort of virtual community that later appeared on the Internet, with self-selected nicknames, inside jokes, and an earnest desire to effect change.
Doyon’s mother died when he was a child, and he and his younger sister were reared by their father, who they both say was physically abusive. Doyon found solace, and a sense of purpose, in the CB-radio community. He and his friends took turns monitoring the local emergency channel. One friend’s father bought a bubble light and affixed it to the roof of his car; when the boys heard a distress call from a stranded motorist, he’d drive them to the side of the highway. There wasn’t much they could do beyond offering to call 911, but the adventure made them feel heroic.
…
At the age of fourteen, he ran away from home, and two years later he moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts, a hub of the emerging computer counterculture. The Tech Model Railroad Club, which had been founded thirty-four years earlier by train hobbyists at M.I.T., had evolved into “hackers”—the first group to popularize the term. Richard Stallman, a computer scientist who worked in M.I.T.’s Artificial Intelligence Laboratory at the time, says that these early hackers were more likely to pass around copies of “Gödel, Escher, Bach” than to incite technological warfare. “We didn’t have tenets,” Stallman said. “It wasn’t a movement. It was just a thing that people did to impress each other.” Some of their “hacks” were fun (coding video games); others were functional (improving computer-processing speeds); and some were pranks that took place in the real world (placing mock street signs near campus). Michael Patton, who helped run the T.M.R.C. in the seventies, told me that the original hackers had unwritten rules and that the first one was “Do no damage.”
In Cambridge, Doyon supported himself through odd jobs and panhandling, preferring the freedom of sleeping on park benches to the monotony of a regular job. In 1985, he and a half-dozen other activists formed an electronic “militia.” Echoing the Animal Liberation Front, they called themselves the Peoples Liberation Front. They adopted aliases: the founder, a towering middle-aged man who claimed to be a military veteran, called himself Commander Adama; Doyon went by Commander X. Inspired by the Merry Pranksters, they sold LSD at Grateful Dead shows and used some of the cash to outfit an old school bus with bullhorns, cameras, and battery chargers. They also rented a basement apartment in Cambridge, where Doyon occasionally slept.
If out-of-state hacktivists hiding behind anonymity are successful in bringing attention to a homeless couple getting allegedly roughed up by local cops in Missoula, my hunch is it will be a simple narrative of COPS BAD, while the homeless couple will be depicted as faultless victims of circumstance.
To complicate simple narratives–which only exist in make-believe land where masked avengers exist–let’s conclude by looking at a local article about helping a homeless couple from the Missoula Current.

Kimberley reaches the bottom floor of an age-restricted residential facility in Missoula before explaining her husband’s condition – how he had a brain tumor removed many years before and still struggles with memory and speech.
In their apartment, William sits barefoot in a chair and quietly says hello. Three cats wander curiously around feet and legs when the couple begins their story of homelessness and the endless travel that brought them to Montana – first Dillon, then Butte and finally Missoula.
“Butte didn’t have any resources for us,” said Kimberly, who asked that their last name not be used for safety reasons. “Him being a veteran, they recommended we come to Missoula. We were living in a motel here.”
Who cares if Montana has a dangerously-thin “safety net” for drifters who show up somewhere in Big Sky country then, inevitably, get sent to Missoula because places like Butte “didn’t have any resources” for William and his old lady, Kim, who we later learn had a sex offender living with her and her children.
William served in the U.S. Army in the 1980s working supply at the motorpool. Like some veterans, however, he struggled to find direction after leaving the service and lived for a time with his aunt, followed by his stepmother and father.
But soon he found steady employment with Walmart where he met Kimberly, who was also employed by Walmart as a cashier. Things were good and they helped each other out.
“I was in a hard position at that point,” said Kimberly. “He gave me an opportunity to make things a little easier for myself and my children. I had a man but he was not the kind of man a woman would want. He was a violent man and a sex offender.”
In what will probably amount to nothing but a dumb attempt to educate “Anonymous” about Missoula, I have reached out to the email address provided in the video yesterday and am currently going back and forth with whoever is behind the Guy Fawkes mask this time, so stay tuned to see what we, as a retarded liberal mountain college town, might be able to expect from this new hacktivist attention.
Thanks for reading!

























