8 February 20-26, 2025 miaminewtimes.com | browardpalmbeach.com New Times | music | cafe | culture | Night+Day | news | letters | coNteNts | “The Proud Boys are not terrorist master- minds. These are not the brightest neofascists out there,” Jon Lewis, a research fellow at George Washington University’s Program on Extremism, recently told Wired. “But they are committed to the cause. They are single- minded in this mission now: for revenge, for retribution. And as we’ve seen before, they are willing to go across state lines and use vio- lence in furtherance of their goals.” Following Trump’s pardons, the Global Project Against Hate and Extremism analyzed the Proud Boys’ social media channels and found a spike in online activity, including dis- cussions of ramping up real-world activism to support the Trump administration’s agenda. Tarrio says the group’s ideals haven’t changed since he left for prison, and that the group likely will continue to show up to pro- test events like drag queen story hour — and perhaps even attend school board meetings. But he also notes that the group will likely pivot to other forms of demonstrations. Take, for instance, the California Proud Boys who recently hung signs on a freeway with the Proud Boys logos and statements that read “Support Your Local ICE Raids” and “Fuck All Your Foreign Flags.” “I think they should have removed the ‘L’ but I ain’t gonna couch-quarterback this thing,” Tarrio wrote on X (formerly Twitter) in response to a photo of the signs. “PROUD OF YOUR BOY!” That said, Tarrio says he feels the “rally thing” for the Proud Boys has died –– mean- ing, the group’s members are no longer show- ing up to protests like they used to. “The club has gotten to a point where we don’t need to go to fucking rallies,” he asserts. “That’s why I built the Ministry of Self Defense. I didn’t want those huge crowds.” He adds that because the main groups that the Proud Boys opposed, such as Black Lives Matter and “that ‘Antifa’ situation” — com- plete with air quotes around the word Antifa — aren’t “a thing anymore,” it’s no longer nec- essary for members of the group to attend demonstrations. “I just don’t see a need for us to go out there and be out there,” he says. “I’ll still go over there and piss them off [about the] the immigration thing. You’ll probably still see us at the school board.” Does that mean that Proud Boys will pivot to other ways of influencing the culture and political scene? Perhaps by running for of- fice? (Some members of the group have al- ready won local elections.) Tarrio allows that he’s heard from “a lot” of local and national Proud Boys, as well as January 6 participants, who say they plan to run for office. As for Tarrio himself? “It’s a maybe thing,” he says. If he does run for office, he says, it probably won’t be a re- peat of his his 2020 bid for Florida’s 27th Congressional District, which he withdrew from before the Republican primary. Instead, he says he’s considering, Matt Gaetz’s former District 1 seat near Pensacola, which Gaetz has said he has no interest in reclaiming. “If I do run, I want to be in that building that they accused me of trying to storm,” Tarrio says. Political Prisoner? Tarrio says he typically read two books at a time while he was behind — one nonfiction and one fiction. He read biographies by Walter Isaacson (including the one about Apple cofounder Steve Jobs), George R.R. Martin’s Game of Thrones, and a book about Attila the Hun, the ruthless Central European ruler who set his sights on the Roman Empire during the Fifth Century. Tarrio says he was fascinated by the peo- ple who went up against the Romans during that period. “These little groups went against this gigantic empire and were able to nip at its heels until it tore itself down — with the help of what they considered bar- barians,” Tarrio says. “And they weren’t really barbarians. Sometimes they look better than some of the emperors.” Upon his own return to Miami, Tarrio says, he went to a local event celebrating the 172nd anniversary of the birth of José Martí, who led the fight for Cuba’s independence from Spain in the 19th Century. During the celebration, someone asked all of the “political prisoners” present to assem- ble for a photo. “Automatically, I grab my camera to take a picture, and they’re like, ‘No, no, no, you come.’ I’m like, ‘No, no, no, I can’t do that,’” Tarrio recounts. “So they kind of forced me into a picture, because you could never tell no to a Cuban.” Unlike other January 6 arrestees (and the president who ultimately pardoned them), Tarrio says he doesn’t see himself as a politi- cal prisoner in the conventional sense. “Do I consider myself a political prisoner in the United States at a level of the United States? I say yes,” Tarrio explains. “But at a level of what you actually consider a political pris- oner, it’s kind of like, no.” He adds that human history is filled with examples of people who were called “extrem- ists” for opposing those in power. He doesn’t want to compare himself to a civil rights leader — “I’m not worthy of a sandal on their foot,” he says — but notes that they too were sometimes called extremists. Does he see himself as an extremist today? He pauses. “In a way,” he says. “Not as intense as some people.” Before his incarceration, Tarrio says, he remembers how people would recognize him in public and casually remark that “he’s a Proud Boys guy” before going on their way. But since his return, some members of the Cuban-American community have treated him like a celebrity. At a recent birthday celebration for his grandfather, for example, it was hard to say who was the guest of honor. “My mom doesn’t help,” he says. “I’m like, ‘Wait a sec- ond, where are we going to dinner?’ She says, ‘Versailles,’” Tarrio recounts. “I’m like, What the fuck? You’re crazy!” By now it’s half past 12, and Tarrio has fin- ished his croquetas and moved on to his co- lada. He pulls a cigarette from a box of Marlboros and lights it, then warns that he has to leave soon: He received a last-minute invite to a birthday celebration at Mar-a-Lago for Tony Delgado, the CEO of Latino Wall Street, whom President Trump reportedly once referred to as “The King of Puerto Rico.” (Tarrio emphasizes that Trump will not be present at the event.) As he takes one last drag on the Marlboro, two older women spot him as they enter the café and stop in their tracks. “Oh my God, what an honor!” one of the women gushes. “I hope you’re free now. I was praying for you all the time!” “Yeah?” Tarrio asks, rising to hug them and shake their hands. “Well, it worked.” [email protected] Proud then — prouder now? Enrique Tarrio at home in Miami in the summer of 2021. Photo by Michele Eve Sandberg SOME MEMBERS OF THE CUBAN- AMERICAN COMMUNITY HAVE TREATED HIM LIKE A CELEBRITY. Emboldened from p7
