5 January 29 - February 4, 2026 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents democracy and peace, but it’s my obliga- tion.” Mitchell was an organizer for the June and October No Kings rallies in Dallas. We know why she started protesting, but what specifically does she hope her actions will yield? “My personal goal is to teach people that democracy is for everyone, even for those who disagree with me and this movement,” she says. “I want all of us to win. We are not each other’s enemy, despite the best efforts of those in power to tear us apart.” Reclaiming the People’s Voice I n Fort Worth, Deborah Guerrero has, in recent months, teamed up with some folks from Indivisible to protest, but her unique approach didn’t begin as a group project. In May 2025, the 62-year-old was dismayed by the ultra-conservative redis- tricting in Tarrant County, something she told the Observer in October “felt like a theft of the people’s voice.” After asking herself the simple question of what one person can do about the matter, Guerrero began posting large signs on the pedestrian bridge high above Interstate 30 near Arlington Heights High School. For the first few days, she was by herself. Her first sign read “Stop the gerrymandering, Tarrant County.” On her fourth day on the bridge, Guer- rero said she was joined by a woman still healing from hip surgery. More volunteers joined in, and one sign-covered bridge soon became three, with messages aimed at the Epstein files, Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and President Trump catching the eyes of morn- ing commuters. Of course, when you pick bridges over packed freeways during the morning rush hour, you hope to reach as many people as possible with your message. Guerrero esti- mates between 35,000 - 37,000 cars pass un- der their signs on most mornings, but for her, it’s a smaller number that could pack the biggest punch, fulfilling her goals as a protester. “These are working people heading into their day,” she said. “If seeing our signs sparks even one workplace conversation, if it inspires even one person to dig deeper, to resist, and to stand brave with us, then we’ve accomplished our mission.” Speaking for the Voiceless S ometimes a solo protester takes to the street and isn’t eventually joined by others with signs, but is lifted up through the encouragement of others. After seeing news reports about an ICE agent in Minneapolis shooting and killing Renee Good, an unarmed 37-year-old mother of three, on Jan. 7, Dawn Nuefeld decided she couldn’t simply do nothing. The way in which the shooting happened in the daylight, in front of so many cameras, with so many people surrounding the scene, struck Nuefeld, an attorney. Like so many others, Nuefeld watched the video of an ICE agent shooting his gun into Good’s vehicle and felt like the agent had no concerns for hiding his behavior or thinking twice about his deadly actions. That was too much for her. Nuefeld grabbed a black Sharpie and drew massive letters spelling out “FUCK ICE” on a white poster board and headed to a busy intersection near her home in Frisco. “What did it for me was, I thought how it was not enough for me to sit there [at home] all afternoon and just take in additional in- formation,” she says. “It didn’t feel like enough. I felt like it was going to be more detrimental to me to just sit there. I thought I have to do something. I need the commu- nity who can’t speak for themselves to know somebody is speaking for them.” While she stood holding the sign high near the intersection of Legacy Drive and Main Street, she took in the honks of sup- port and words of encouragement from some, while shouldering the insults hurled at her by others. Nuefeld, whose mother is Black and father is white, also couldn’t help but notice the looks some of the people who clearly did not approve of her expression gave her as they drove by. She has taken part in other protests recently, but this time was unique in that the spiteful glares were aimed solely at her. “The looks of anger on people’s faces, I’ve seen those faces before,” she says. “They re- minded me of the pictures of desegregating schools in the South. That’s literally what I saw, and it was extremely emotional, be- cause I recognized those faces.” Feeling the pull to get up and do some- thing, anything, led Nuefeld to conduct her one-woman demonstration. The action might’ve developed quickly, but she still had a goal in mind. She wanted to call out the hy- pocrisy she says she’s seen in the months since Republican commentator Charlie Kirk was shot and killed. While conservatives were on TV talking about how Good might still be alive had she complied with the ICE agents, Nuefeld recalled how those same conservatives were praising Kirk “as a saint” in the wake of his killing, but now, Good was being almost demonized after being killed. The hypocrisy she wanted to call out doesn’t stop there. The people she says now refer to Ashli Babbitt, the woman killed by Capitol police on Jan. 6 as she tried to force her way past police through a broken win- dow, as a martyr, are those saying Good should’ve simply minded the ICE agent. “I had someone reach out to me on social media after that day, to basically say shame on me, because he had to explain to his 6 and 8 year old, what ‘fuck ICE’ means,” she says. “I’m sure that same gentleman would be to- tally OK with the Ten Commandments hanging in a classroom, but what happens when your 6- or 8-year-old needs to ask their teacher what adultery is?” ‘I Will Continue to Dissent’ W ith only a year under the second Trump administration’s belt, the inspiration for protests of all shapes and sizes will likely not slow down anytime soon. But a dearth of causes has never been a problem for Mitchell, Guerrero and Nuefeld. “Immigrants are not the reason we can- not afford to pay our skyrocketing rent in Dallas, Mitchell says. “Trans people are not the reason we don’t have adequate health care. Black folks are not the reason we fear to send our children to school in an age where a school shooting happens almost ev- ery day in our country. … Despite any per- sonal risk, I will continue to show up and peacefully dissent in any way I can. I hope others will join me.” Last week, Guerrero’s bridge sign crew was at it again, this time advocating for Democratic Texas Senate candidate Taylor Rehmet. Other Fort Worth bridge signs from the recent past include messages against war in Venezuela and for affordable health- care here at home. Although Renee Good’s death spurred Nuefeld into action on Jan. 7, that’s just one cause she feels strongly about. With two kids, she’s alarmed by what she has seen happen to the state’s education system and to the rights of LGBTQ people. She sees in Trump a leader who could cause a war far greater than what has already been seen in Venezuela. She’s a veteran of rallies and says she won’t stop speaking out anytime soon. “There are a lot of people here on the ground doing the work, but I will continue to support,” she says. “Even decided that my sign is going to stay in my trunk, if I ever come across another individual standing by him or herself, protesting, I will join them.” ▼ JUSTICE JUSTICE DELAYED TOMMY LEE WALKER, THE BLACK DALLAS MAN EXECUTED FOR 1954 MURDER, DECLARED INNOCENT. BY EMMA RUBY W hen the 70-year-old videos of Tommy Lee Walker played on the large screens of the Dallas County Commissioners Court on Jan. 21, it was difficult to think of much besides how young and scared he appears. Walker, the Black teenager who Dallas wrongly sentenced to die in 1954, is shown being weighed, fingerprinted and led around the Dallas police station. In the fol- lowing clip, white investigators wearing short ties and fedoras weigh palm-sized knives in their hands, as if choosing which weapon best suits the crime they are accus- ing Walker of committing. In the final video, a Dallas County judge asks Walker if he has any final words for the court that is moments away from convicting him for the murder of a white woman whom he’d never met. The 19-year-old Walker frowns slightly, baby fat still clinging to his cheeks. A long-faced lawyer encourages him to speak. “I feel that I have been tricked out of my life,” Walker responds, his voice soft. Last week’s commissioners meeting cul- minated in the unanimous exoneration of Walker, whose case was first reexamined af- ter journalist Mary Mapes began investigat- ing the circumstances of his prosecution in 2013. The resolution is “unprecedented,” being the first posthumous proclamation of innocence to be made by a commissioners court in Texas, said attorneys with the death row advocacy group The Innocence Project. An investigation by Mapes, The Inno- cence Project, law professor Margaret Burn- ham and the Dallas County District Attorney’s office found that Walker’s prose- cution was riddled with racial prejudice. In late 1953, Dallas’ white community “was in a state of frenzy” over reports of a “Negro prowler,” said Burnham. When a white woman, Venice Parker, was raped and killed in September of that year, the Dallas Police Department launched “roundups and drag- net searches” to find a guilty Black man. Instead, in January of 1954, they found Walker. “Tommy Lee Walker’s constitutional rights were violated at every turn,” said Dal- las County District Attorney John Creuzot. “[The investigation was] riddled with racial injustice during a time when prejudice and bigotry were woven in every aspect of soci- ety.” While in DPD custody, Walker witnessed police assaults on other Black inmates and was told by investigators that evidence had indicted him for the crime, despite the fact that no forensic evidence existed. It also did not matter to investigators that Walker was present at the birth of his first child at the time of Parker’s murder. The presentation also included evi- dence that Will Fritz, the DPD homicide captain who led the investigation courtesy Samantha Mitchell Samantha Mitchell (left) stands with comedian Paula Poundstone at a Dallas No Kings rally. >> p6
