Nickelsville emptied in uneventful police sweep; 22 arrested

The end of Nickelsville and its 150 fuchsia tents came Friday afternoon with protesters calmly waiting for their turn to be arrested and two dozen Seattle police officers sometimes looking, well, a little bored.

This was no WTO Battle in Seattle.

There were no cops in black riot uniforms. Some of them even wore bicycle shorts and shades, having been called from the bike patrol.

They didn't put handcuffs on the 22 homeless and advocates arrested for trespassing on city property — not in front of everybody — but led them along to waiting vans, at which point they were patted down and handcuffed.

After being interviewed at the Southwest Precinct, those arrested were released unless they had outstanding warrants, police said.

The camp was set up in the dawn hours of Monday in an overgrown, grassy industrial area along West Marginal Way Southwest. The Friday sweep through it took officers all of an hour.

By then, 42 of the fuchsia tents, as well as boxes full of everything from food to toilet paper, had been moved up a little hill to an adjoining parking lot owned by the state Department of Transportation.

The protesters didn't want those goods confiscated, although they eventually could get them back from a holding site.

Ron Judd, senior adviser to Gov. Christine Gregoire, had driven up from Olympia to negotiate a stay for the much-dwindled number of protesters who moved to the parking lot. He and the Church Council of Greater Seattle reached an agreement with the city that allowed the homeless to stay at the lot until Wednesday.

Judd said that although the parking area is state-owned, the city has jurisdiction. He said he hoped the extra time would allow for some kind of resolution.

But after Wednesday, he said, "the city has the right to come in."

Every arrest was filmed and photographed by a crowd of media types and various social-issue advocates.

It had all been negotiated in advance:

The city offered shelter to anyone wanting it, and 14 of the Nickelsville residents had taken the offer.

Those wishing to be arrested as a political protest could stay at their tents. The cops would then come around, read them a statement that they were trespassing, and arrest them. They could take their packed belongings with them.

Anitra Freeman, a Nickelsville spokeswoman, was the first to be arrested.

She is 59 and retired early as a computer programmer because of bipolar disorder. These days, she said, with medication and just because she's older, "I don't get manic as much." She is not homeless, but does work on that community's behalf.

Preparing to be arrested, she had a plastic bag with a water bottle, her ID and a $1 bill.

"That's just in case I have to catch the bus" after being processed at the police station, she said.

Another of those arrested was Aaron Colyer, 28, who moved here last year from Morristown, Tenn.

He was asked why so many of the homeless at the camp seemed to be recent arrivals in this city.

"Seattle is known for its jobs, for its industry," said Colyer. "I came here looking for a fishing job. I put in my applications, I just didn't get the jobs."

With the help of others, Colyer had used pallets to build a wooden shelter around his tent. Somebody had given him pink paint, which he used to decorate his new, and soon-to-be-torn-down, residence.

Colyer sat on the porch of his quarters, a little portable radio tuned to a Christian station by his side.

He had a couple of small packs he was planning to take when arrested.

One contained a couple of notebooks in which he had written poems and other material.

The pack also had a postcard.

"That's only Christmas card I got last year," he said.

By midafternoon, city workers were pounding green metal stakes into the ground around the property, and attaching orange plastic fencing.

Soon, it would look like another empty industrial site.

Colyer was asked if it was worth it, getting arrested.

"This is the most important thing I've done in my life," he said.

Erik Lacitis: 206-464-2237 or elacitis@seattletimes.com