Archive for the ‘George Zimmerman’ Category

A dark money-fueled conservative group rebranded its effort to infiltrate local politics and local media outlets are falling for it – Media Matters…

The Center Square claims to be a news wire service that was founded to fulfill the need for high-quality statehouse and statewide news with a taxpayer sensibility. In reality, its just the latest iteration of an existing propaganda machine that dresses up a biased conservative spin as reliable news. And some local news outlets around the country are distributing its propaganda.

In 2019, conservative news site Watchdog.org reinvented itself as a wire service, called The Center Square. The Center Square claims to produce the highest quality of news coverage and investigative work and provides its content for free to other media outlets. But in reality, The Center Square publishes misleading stories with a heavy right-wing bent. As Watchdog.org, the organization was known for propagating misinformation andlies that benefited Republican politicians.

The Center Square receives funding from right-wing sources through dark money groups. The organization is largely funded by the ultra-conservative billionaire Koch family through the dark-money group Donors Trust, which provides money to The Center Squares publisher, the Franklin News Foundation (previously known as the Franklin Center for Government and Public Integrity).

Along with its affiliates, The Center Square helps promote right-wing legislative priorities. The Franklin News Foundation is listed as an associate of the conservative State Policy Network and its affiliates sometimes publish content promoting the agenda of the American Legislative Education Council (ALEC), which pushes right-wing legislation in state government. Some of the policies ALEC has promoted include legislation to end paid sick leave, laws that halt Medicaid expansion for low-income residents, and the infamous Stand Your Ground law in Florida that George Zimmerman used to justify killing unarmed minor Trayvon Martin in 2012.

Targeting local news is a cunning strategy for The Center Square, as polls show Americans trust local news over national media. By offering its so-called wire stories at no cost, The Center Square is taking advantage of local media, at a time when many local news outlets are underfunded and struggling,to launder its far-right perspectives and present them as legitimate news stories. Some local media have fallen for the scheme, republishing Center Square content that often twists the truth, parrots right-wing talking points, and excludes left-leaning perspectives.

Here are some recent examples of how The Center Squares conservative propaganda has worked its way into media outlets across the U.S.:

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A dark money-fueled conservative group rebranded its effort to infiltrate local politics and local media outlets are falling for it - Media Matters...

#WordinBlack: Texas native son talks Juneteenth: better late than never – Afro American

By Patrick Washington, Word in Black

The Texas-birthed holiday of Juneteenth is a very interesting holiday, to say the least. See, I, a native-born Texan, have two Yankee parents. As such, Ive been able to hear both sides of the idea of Juneteenth and now, I am at a final resting place for my attitude about this new celebration of what used to be a regional observance.

Im ok with it.

Let me explain; I love the idea of Juneteenth. Its simple to me.The Civil War ended, White folks were trippin, the army had to come in, let everybody know whats up. Easy right? I thought so toobut then the other side came in.

Now, for the sake of fairness, I do get some of the opposition that was very prevalent in my younger days. Its kind of strange to celebrate the late arrival of emancipation, however, I also didnt understand why others cared so much when this wasnt a national thing. It was for us Texans. Then an elder of mine stated plainly, They dont like that we celebrate our freedom, because they dont celebrate theirs. And never have. But will celebrate the fourth of July like it meant something. And there it was: clarity. The line had been drawn in the sand and I now stood firmly on the side of Juneteenth.

I admit I never understood why other Black communities had no observance of their freedom. I figured someone heard about the Emancipation Proclamation and said thats a good day to light up a barbecue and shoot up some fireworks, but no. Even a simple observance of Black liberation would be cool, right? Butno.

So, I carried on quietly eating my ribs and finding some strawberries to munch on (Im not a watermelon fan, so I kept it 19th with another red fruit). Then something happened. I met someone who would eventually become a close friend from upstate New York; Syracuse to be exact. At some point, we were talking, and I mentioned Juneteenth and she said, yeah, I havent celebrated that since I left home.

You know I the native-born Texan was confused. How couldwhy would a New Yorker know anything about Juneteenth? As curious as a cat, I probed for everything she knew about MY holiday, and to my surprise she got it all right! She told me that there were observances in small places all the time, and they were often met with the same disdain as I was familiar with when it came to outsiders learning about Juneteenth.

Still, at that point, I couldnt care less. I was far too excited to have a friend to silence the haters who didnt have a country accent. It was glorious. And we both were soldiers in the army of Juneteenth laying tongue thrashings to haters at the drop of a dime.

Then, in late February 2012, George Zimmerman killed Trayvon Martin and the world changed. For years, the Black community had endured a seemingly unending display of Black bodies murdered by police with no accountability or consequence. Now, here was this civilian, with a far more extensive criminal background than the child hed literally stalked against police orders before instigating contact with and killing him, being given the same hand-waving latitude as police officers, while social media exploded with concentrated efforts to dehumanize the victim.

Call it the first moments of the resurgence of the Civil Rights Movement, and the global awareness campaign that would become Black Lives Matter. Everything had changed, but not really. It was still business as usual but something else was there. An underlying tone was getting louder. A fervor that was just under the surface ready to explode, and we all knew it was coming.

The next few years, things just grew more and more tense. During that whole time, we still celebrated Juneteenth. More Black celebrities were talking about it; I saw Usher wear a shirt on stage X-ing out the Fourth of July and underlining Juneteenth. Cool. I look up and folks in California are explaining to the internet the importance of Juneteenth.

What the hell is happening? I called my friend; she already knew. We lamented, asked whats the deal with this, laughed, and casually dismissed the fair weather freedom lovers for what we thought was, at best, a momentary interest.

Thankfully, we were wrong, but I still had a few lingering reservations. After all, my mother told me about growing up in the 1960s and watching all her peers rock afros and Afrocentric garments, but by the mid-70s to early-80s she said, Most of them negroes went back to perms and tight fades to appease white folks to get jobs in the corporate sector.

I couldnt deny that, nor could I separate how humans use trends in horrible situations to feel better about what we feel we cant control. Id be lying if I said that didnt sit at the top of my thought process when bringing up Juneteenth with certain people.

And then there was George Floyd. The chillingly silent explosion we had all been waiting for. That tragic, horrific, damn near 9-minute bomb that blew up in our faces as we just watched. Say what you want, but we all watched. For whatever reason, we watched. We saw that clock ticking, and we watched. We heard that fear, and we watched. BOOM. The whole world heard that explosion, but this time, the world was not turning away.

For a while, the planet was engulfed in conversation about Black lives. Not only through marches, but also via dialogue, history lessons, context, perspectives, think pieces, andwait for it, Juneteenth. Yep, right there in the middle of all this turmoil, were groups of people talking about Juneteenth.

To be fair, Juneteenth occurred that year as usual, however, at that time, I was feeling like, oh, it just takes slavery, Jim Crow, civil right movement, black power movement, hip hop, countless black people killed by the police and a global protest to get Black people to recognize thisgreat. Looking back, I think I was just upset that thats the norm for things like this.

My mother-in-law blames it on socialization. According to her, Americans are not wired to learn lessons easily. It takes a lot, but once we move the needle, it tends to stay moved. Today there are national talks about Juneteenth, as well as different states recognizing the date as important in the history and context of the USAs racial past.

I was still having reservations about supporting this, but like most things in my life, an elder spoke to me. Saying mostly better late than never, but also re-affirming what I already knew to be true. This isnt about white folks not letting us go free. It aint about Black folks not knowing about the end of the war, nor not being given anything.

Juneteenth is about us.

Its about us recognizing our inherent liberty and freedom. The thing is, when did any enslaved person truly know they were free? Hell, Malcolm X was talking about the mentally enslaved DURING the Civil Rights Movement. When were the shackles truly taken off? And did they stay off? What reminds you of not slipping back into a place of subjugation? No need to guess, Ill tell you; Its a ritual. A ceremony that takes all that and puts it in its place. I took for granted that I was born in a place where that was the norm, and others were just now waking up to the idea that we deserve a day of recognition that are NOT slaves. Who celebrates that? We do.

In the words of the illustrious Charles ONeil, Chairman, Board of Directors at U.S. Black Chambers, Inc, Apparently there was NO party before Juneteenthwhat emancipation date is commemorated in SC, AL, GA, TN, KY, MS, LA, AR, VA, NC? Juneteenth mighta been late, but there was no party til Texas got there! Its a point of pride really. Through all this weve been telling yall we free! Late sure, messed up, yes, but were here EVERY YEAR, doing our most to enjoy us, to celebrate us.

So, welcome! Pull up a seat, pour some fresh prepared strawberry soda, slice a watermelon, and inhale the sweet smells from the grill, cuz we are all free. Free to be who we want and who we are now and forever.

We now understand our foundational influence on this place. Our ownership of its history and our roles in making sure that it never reverts. Were in it now, like yesterday never left. Voter suppression efforts like its still the Jim Crow era, law enforcement still acting like slave catchers, and racists in power doing their best to keep it.

But we have Juneteenth. Not just the day, but also the attitude, the philosophy, the ideal. Its ours.

I do not know what the future holds, clich as that is, but I can be sure of a one thing this year. On the 19th of June, the United States of Americas African population will be as unified as ever, and I cant see that going away. Im thankful for that. I appreciate that, and I will allow that to melt away the younger sentiments I had towards my fellow Black folks whom I welcome with open arms into this new head space.

Just dont forget where it comes from: TEXAS BABY!

Patrick Washington is the second-generation CEO and publisher of The Dallas Weekly which has been serving the Black community of the 4th largest metroplex in the nation since 1954.

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#WordinBlack: Texas native son talks Juneteenth: better late than never - Afro American

A Country Armed to the Teeth – CounterPunch.org – CounterPunch

Photograph Source: Donald Lee Pardue CC BY 2.0

The gun I carried on the streets of New York City in the late 1960s was a Beretta, similar to the pistol James Bond packed in the early Ian Fleming novels. It was a small, dark beauty that filled me with bravado. I was never afraid when I had it in my pocket, which is why Im so very afraid now.

I was packing it illegally, but I knew that a white man in a suit and tie was unlikely to be stopped by the police and frisked, even in a city with some of the strictest gun laws in the country laws that may soon be swept away if the Supreme Court continues what seems to be its holy war on democracy. In fact, its justices are expected to rule this month in a case that challenges New Yorks constitutional right to deny anyone a permit to carry a firearm. That states current licensing process allows only those who can prove a special need for self-protection distinguishable from that of the general community. That means you cant pack heat just because you want to feel stronger and braver than you are or because you feel threatened by people who look different from you.

It also means that you cant enjoy the privileges of the past. In his history of gun rights in this country, Armed in America, Patrick Charles quotes this from a piece in a 1912 issue of the magazine Sports Afield: Perfect freedom from annoyance by petty lawbreakers is found in a country where every man carries his own sheriff, judge, and executioner swung on his hip.

Sadly enough, carrying such firepower is thrilling, oppressive, and often leads to calamity as hundreds of police officers and the would-be neighborhood defender George Zimmerman, the killer of 17-year-old Trayvon Martin, found out. It was something I, too, came to understand. Let me tell you how.

The Hunter

The Beretta was not my first gun. That was a .22 bolt-action Savage Arms rifle that my favorite uncle insisted I needed to grow into true manhood. My dad was against harboring a gun in the house, but the masculinity argument must have swayed him. He had been too old for the Army and not having served disturbed him. Uncle Irving was his best friend and a World War II vet.

I was around 12 years old, about the age most kids in gun-owning families are first armed. I was an avid fan of the Western movies of that era, which were always resolved by a gunfight. The idea of owning a gun, that symbol of manhood, genuinely excited me. Somehow, because there were so many rules and restrictions, target practice became a duty, as well as a guilty pleasure. (Many years later, I spoke with an Army sergeant who described shooting as unlimited orgasms for less than six cents each.)

In my early teens, I enjoyed plinking away in the woods, knocking off cans and bottles (Indians and outlaws, of course) until the inevitable need to actually kill something became uncontainable. I had to test myself. I was a responsible kid and heeded my dads ban on shooting at birds and squirrels, even rattlesnakes, but I finally begged permission to go after the rabbit pillaging moms vegetable garden.

I got it on the first shot!

And that was the beginning of my conflict.

It just didnt feel as good as I had dreamt it would, even though my hunting partner, my kid sister, cheered, while my parents appeared both dismayed and impressed. In death, the marauder of our food supply turned out to be just a hungry little bunny.

Was there something missing in the experience or maybe in me, I wondered? Where was the joy I expected in actually gunning something down? Nevertheless, I paid lip-service to what I thought I should have felt, turning the backyard ambush into the equivalent of an Ernest Hemingway safari, a tale told heroically until it became satirical. (Hemingway was my generations avatar of toxic masculinity in literature and in life. And, of course, he killed himself with a gun.)

My sister and I skinned our prey and kept those dried-out rabbits feet for years. But ever since, the idea of hunting, if nothing gets eaten, seemed noxious to me and, as the years passed, I began to think of sport hunters as the leatherette men, a gang of poseurs.

Though I kept that rifle, I never fired it again.

The Shootist

Covering police stories early in my newspaper career, I found myself regularly around guns that were almost never drawn on duty, weapons worn by men and women mostly discomforted by their weight and bulge. But I found that I was still fascinated by them. It was only the idea of using them for hunting that bothered me then, not guns themselves.

Still, weapons training in the Army in 1961 turned out to be no fun. The instructors were even more restrictive than Dad and I proved to be a mediocre shot at best.

Basic training turned out to be boring and disappointing. I had, at least, hoped to get myself in better shape and work on some of those manly arts that were still on my mind, like hand-to-hand combat. But that didnt happen. After basic, I was dumped into clerk/typist school, the Armys numbing attempt to teach soldiers to be all they could be by doing paperwork. The secretarial training drove me so crazy that I went on sick call and started spending nights in the beer garden at Fort Dix, which only made everything worse.

Then, one night, en route to getting wasted again, I wandered into a free shooting range sponsored by the National Rifle Association (NRA). Oh, joy!

Unlimited orgasms, rifles and handguns, jolly instructors. I was still gripped by the fantasy of manly fun. The next thing I knew, I had joined the NRA by mailing in a card from one of its magazines. My mood lifted and, incredibly, I graduated at the top of my clerk/typist class. I then floated through the rest of my six-month active-duty enlistment in the Army information office, trigger happy all the way.

Back in civilian life, writing sports stories for the New York Times in the early 1960s, I discovered that my manhood credentials were unassailable, especially to the guys I now think of as the Bystander Boys. Those were the everyday dudes who genuflect to alpha males, especially the sports heroes they assumed I drank with. Those were specious creds, although it would take me years more to figure that out. Back then, I wasnt yet paying attention to the various kinds of faux manhood that were around me everywhere. Quite the opposite, I was living my own version of it. Especially when I got my beautiful little Beretta.

My frat house roommate Marty, a naval officer, brought back one for each of us from a Mediterranean cruise. It fit our fantasy lives then. After all, wed both studied combat judo with a drunken ex-Marine on a tough street on Manhattans Upper West Side. We were both delusional apprentice bad asses at a time when actor Humphrey Bogart was considered a profile in manhood. We liked the way he smoked and handled a gun in his films. In addition, we had both read the James Bond novels and were proud that 007s early pistol of choice, the Beretta, was now ours, too.

The Gunslinger

To say that I felt bigger and harder with the Beretta in my pocket is true, even if it reduces the experience to a phallic cartoon (which, of course, is just what it was). But there was more. It was proof that I was neither weak, nor soft, and didnt have to feel as vulnerable as I actually did covering stories on the mean streets of the city. It meant I could walk at night in the South Bronx assuming that Id be able to respond to anything, that I would never have to run or surrender my wallet to some teenaged mugger.

So went my weaponized imagination then. I felt primed for action. I was daring the world, strolling through New York with what I took to be the pigeon-toed rolling swagger of that classic star of so many cowboy and war movies, John Wayne. I even began to fancy that I projected a dangerous aura that would intimidate anyone with bad intentions toward me.

Soon enough, I knew, that feeling of invulnerability would have to be tested. The emotional weight of that gun seemed to demand it. I would have to use it and it wouldnt be on a rabbit this time.

I felt feverish with the desire for (and terror of) engagement. I suspect that a kind of temporary insanity set in, that I was gun crazy, drowning in testosterone and the memory of that gives me a feeling for the state of mind of the mad boys now regularly slaughtering people in our country. And here was the strangest thing in retrospect: I dont remember ever thinking that I didnt really know how to use that gun, that Id had no training with it, never even fired it. And in those days, there was no YouTube to show me how.

And then came one lunatic night on Manhattans lower East Side. For a magazine story, I was shadowing a young doctor who worked for a non-profit group visiting sick kids in their squalid rooms. Nervous that the drugs and syringes he was carrying in his medical bag might make him a target, he was hugging the shadows of the dark street as we made our way to his car, half a block away. Suddenly, a group of loud young men appeared, drinking beer. The doctor grabbed my arm. He wanted to duck back into the building we had just walked out of.

Filled with bravado, however, I pulled him along, my other hand in my pocket. I was suddenly on fire in a way that reminded me of my teen self and the rabbit. No punks were going to chase me off that street. I glared at them. They glared right back, but then separated so we could walk quickly through them to our car. I promptly flopped into the passenger seat, suddenly exhausted, wiped out by my own stupidity, my own madness.

Just thinking about it now, almost 60 years later, my spine tingles, my muscles lock, and I feel a deep sense of shame, especially for endangering that young do-good doctor. And the possible outcome, had I done something truly stupid? I imagine the gun snagging on my pocket lining as I tried to pull it out for the first time and shooting myself in the foot or, far worse, shooting someone else. I never carried a gun again.

The Unarmed

When I gave the Beretta back to Marty, I told him only a piece of the truth. I said I was afraid of getting busted with it in a city with such rigorous gun laws. I promised to visit the pistol in California, where he would soon be living. And I did. I shot it there for the first time at a commercial range, along with Martys new .45. He was rapturous, but I was just going through the motions. There was no excitement or pleasure. I had changed.

I was done with guns and felt like a fool for ever thinking differently. But because of my experience I do understand why, in this thoroughly over-armed land of ours, so many others consider such weaponry (and far more powerful and deadly versions) so important to who they are. Having experienced a sense of that identity myself, I dont look down on them for it. And I understand that behind the mostly male pleasure in being armed can lie complex feelings. As historian Adam Hochschild noted in the New York Review of Books several years ago:

The passion for guns felt by tens of millions of Americans also has deep social and economic roots. The fervor with which they believe liberals are trying to take all their guns away is so intense because so much else has been taken away.

Even more troubling is that many of them believe they will need those guns for defense against the rampaging gangs (calling themselves militias?) that would rise after the possible collapse of American democracy as weve known it, which any number of armed men dont trust to protect them anyway. (Thank you, Donald Trump, most Republicans, and, alas, my old benefactor the NRA!)

Is stocking up on AR-15s and thousands of rounds of ammunition paranoia or preparation? While a Beretta would never be enough, it turns out that such lesser guns have done most of the damage to Americans. Mass murders with military-style automatic rifles, especially school shootings, have reaped so much of the attention, but its been handguns that have killed far more Americans every year, most often via suicide (which is why its so sad to see so many of us increasingly arming ourselves to the teeth).

More than half of the 45,222 gun-related deaths in 2020, the last year for which we have solid statistics, were suicides, while only (yes, put that in scare quotes) 513 of them were thanks to mass shootings, defined as an incident in which four or more people are shot, even if no one is killed.

Handguns, not long guns, were involved in 59% of the 13,620 deaths classified as murders that year as well, while assault rifles were involved only 3% of the time. So banning those military-grade weapons, manufactured to kill as many people as possible as quickly as possible, while distinctly a sane idea amid this mounting firearms insanity of ours, would probably have little real effect on our proliferating gun culture. Given the politics right now, its hard to imagine any administration attempting to begin the disarming of America.

Unfortunately, its easier to imagine a future government eager to build that arsenal to ever more destructive extremes, both at home among individuals and throughout the world as arms merchants, the ultimate in gun culture.

Its not hard to imagine this country strutting all too manfully toward the apocalypse with more than a Beretta in its pocket.

This column is distributed by TomDispatch.

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A Country Armed to the Teeth - CounterPunch.org - CounterPunch

Review: Netflixs Civil follows a momentous year in the life of Americas Black attorney general – SF Chronicle Datebook

Attorney Ben Crump meets with a client in the Netflix documentary Civil: Ben Crump, which premieres on Netflix on Sunday, June 19. Photo: Netflix

He seems to be everywhere whenever a Black person is killed during a police shooting, hes there to help. Attorney Ben Crumps nickname is Americas Black attorney general, and in a new Netflix documentary, we get to know a little about him.

For Civil: Ben Crump, filmmaker Nadia Hallgren (director of the Michelle Obama documentary Becoming) followed Crump for a year of busy traveling the man is constantly on the road as he pursued a record settlement in the wrongful death of George Floyd. Crump was the Floyd familys first call after Floyds death while in the custody of four Minneapolis police officers.

But the Floyd case is not the sole focus of Hallgrens film. Crumps law firm, Ben Crump Law, based in Tallahassee, Fla., fields around 500 phone calls a day. The quest for social justice comes in many forms, from Black farmers who may have been poisoned by Monsanto fertilizers to banking while Black cases his firm has collected some $200 million for banking victims.

Theres no ambiguity about it, Crump says in the film. I know who I am, and whose I am. I have been given influence for a reason. And shame on me if I dont use that influence. We are stronger than they ever perceived us to be.

Crump, now 52, was also a dashing young man. He went to Florida State University, earning his law degree in the mid-1990s. Theres great footage from his wedding to Genae, whom he met in law school (she also has a law degree), and she and their daughter, Brooklyn, are the light in Crumps life.

Most of the general public first became aware of Crump when he represented the family of Trayvon Martin, who was killed in 2012 by George Zimmerman, a member of a community watch in his neighborhood in Sanford, Fla. Since then, he has taken high-profile case after high-profile case, gaining millions of dollars in compensation for families in civil cases.

Crump contends that since the United States is the ultimate capitalist society, one road to equality is through the pocketbook, and that has brought some heat. During a 2021 interview with CBS Sunday Morning, Ted Koppel said Crump thrives on media attention and asked him, its made you a lot of money, hasnt it?

One wonders if Koppel might ask the same question to other non-Black high-profile lawyers fighting for social justice, such as womens rights advocate Gloria Allred.

Also shown in the film is, of course, Fox News, whose indignant anchors accuse him of playing the race card.

But thats the whole point in a discrimination case, isnt it?

Civil compensation often has to stand in for legal justice. Yet its clear that to Crump, nothing can substitute for a criminal conviction. He got Floyds family a record $27 million, but when Hallgrens camera catches Crump in real time listening to the verdict read in the murder trial of Derek Chauvin the man convicted of killing Floyd his unburdened emotion shows whats truly important.

MCivil: Ben Crump: Documentary. Directed by Nadia Halgren. (PG-13. 101 minutes.) Available to stream Sunday, June 19, on Netflix

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Review: Netflixs Civil follows a momentous year in the life of Americas Black attorney general - SF Chronicle Datebook

Kyle Rittenhouse is Lying About Going to College – The Root

Students for Socialism protest on campus demanding that Kyle Rittenhouse not be allowed to enroll at Arizona State University, Wednesday, Dec. 1, 2021, at ASU in Tempe, Ariz. Protesters were demanding the university disavow the 18-year-old, who was acquitted of murder in the deadly shootings during 2020's unrest in Kenosha, Wis.Photo: Matt York (AP)

Donald Trump built an empire on lies, the labor of unpaid contractors and possibly cooked financials. He was rewarded with a stint in the White House. Some of us are old enough to remember the name Oliver North, who flipped a scandal over illegal weapons sales, Nicaraguan rebels and American hostages into a Congressional run, a Fox News gig and the presidency of the NRA. A decade after killing Trayvon Martin, George Zimmerman is still outchea, alive, free and searching for a come-up whether by slinging plagiarized art or suing everyone from politicians to Martins parents.

In short, grifting is the second act of many conservative miscreants career. Because Zimmerman gave us a lesson on libel, and because Rittenhouse is litigious, Im definitely not calling the latter a miscreant or grifter. I am wondering out loud where this whole bit about where or whether hes actually going to college is heading.

Rittenhouse said last week on the podcast the Charlie Kirk Show that he was headed to Texas A&M Universitymajor undecidedto study.

But the school says that statement didnt give what it was supposed to gave.

From USA TodayThe College Station-based school soon debunked his claim.

He is not a student this summer and has not been admitted as a student this fall, Texas A&M spokesperson Kelly Brown told USA TODAY.

The deadline to apply for the fall semester was in March.

Citing privacy issues, Brown did not verify whether Rittenhouse applied to the school.

Rittenhouse last year was acquitted of criminal charges related to carrying an AR-15-style rifle across state lines as a 17-year-old in 2020 to protect a business that didnt belong to him, and then killing two people and wounding a third during protests over a police shooting. Several GOP Congressmen offered him jobs that he turned down following the acquittal.

Since then, hes accepted a speaking engagement before Trump-supporting political organization Turning Point USA and was one of last years highest-rated guests on Tucker Carlsons Fox News show in addition to multiple other interviews. He says he wasnt paid for any of the appearances, but college or no, its clear theres a payday in his future if he wants it.

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Kyle Rittenhouse is Lying About Going to College - The Root