The Prairieland sentencing handed down in a Fort Worth federal courtroom on Tuesday turned eight young Americans into some of the most heavily punished protesters in recent American memory, with prison terms running from 30 years all the way to a full century. The people at the center of this case are not abstractions. They are a former Marine reservist, students, and twenty somethings whose faces are now printed on bright posters that their friends and families held up on the courthouse steps, each one reading FREE above a name.
Benjamin Song, the man federal prosecutors called the ringleader, received 100 years. He was convicted of attempted murder for shooting and wounding Alvarado Police Lt. Thomas Gross outside the ICE detention center during the demonstration last July 4. Gross was struck in the neck and survived, and has since recovered. Standing before U.S. District Judge Mark Pittman in an orange striped jumpsuit, Song told the court he does not hate police, does not hate Trump, and does not hate anyone. He said that when he saw the officer step out of his car and raise a weapon toward another protester, he believed he was watching his worst nightmare unfold, a moment of police violence about to take a life. His attorney, Phillip Hayes, put it plainly outside the courthouse. These are not terrorists, he said. They are kids and young adults with big hearts who wanted their voices heard, and no one ever intended for anybody to get hurt.
The rest of the Prairieland sentencing followed the same staggering scale. Maricela Rueda was sentenced to 70 years. Autumn Hill, Zachary Evetts, Meagan Morris, Savanna Batten, and Elizabeth Soto each received 50 years. Daniel Sanchez Estrada was sentenced to 30. U.S. District Judges Mark Pittman and Reed O’Connor handed down the terms three months after a weeks long trial. The eight were convicted back in March on charges tied to rioting, weapons and explosives, obstruction, and the shooting, and the Justice Department tallied their combined punishment at roughly 450 years.
Seven other people who pleaded guilty to providing material support still await sentencing and face up to 15 years each. What makes this Prairieland sentencing different from an ordinary criminal case is the language wrapped around it. Federal officials called the group a North Texas antifa cell and described the night as a premeditated domestic terror attack, pointing to the dark clothing and face coverings the defendants wore as proof of coordination.
This is the first sentencing of people the government has labeled antifa since Trump signed an executive order designating the movement a domestic terrorist organization in September 2025. The defendants and their supporters see that label as the entire problem. They argue the gathering was meant to be a peaceful noise demonstration in support of the immigrants held inside, that the fireworks were just fireworks, and that the night spiraled only after gunfire broke out. They say there was no cell and no antifa membership to speak of, only people who showed up to be heard.
Legal observers watched this case closely precisely because of how far it reaches. Critics describe the Prairieland sentencing as a test of how aggressively the government can punish protest itself, and that question hangs over every one of these names. Notably, the defense rested without calling a single witness or presenting evidence, telling jurors the government had not proven its case beyond a reasonable doubt. Song’s lawyer says he will appeal. For now, the people on those posters are headed to prison for decades, and their supporters are left holding signs and asking the country to remember that behind the word terrorist are eight faces, eight families, and a set of legal questions that are not going away.
