Chapter 1: Introduction to the Crisis

By July, the protests led by Black Lives Matter in Portland had become familiar with the usual tear gas that filled the air nightly. However, that month marked the emergence of a peculiar green smoke. This unusual phenomenon left behind pools of greenish residue that infiltrated the city's storm drains. Human rights advocates and environmentalists urged the local government to explore the ecological consequences of these chemical agents used by law enforcement, but no new findings were disclosed to the public.

Juniper L. Simonis, a volunteer medic at the protests and a quantitative investigator with expertise in aquatic ecology, began investigating the storm drains for evidence. Simonis recognized that pinpointing the identity of this new substance was crucial for safeguarding both the protesters and the environment. Lacking transparency from the authorities, they sought tangible proof in the form of discarded gas canisters that could contain chemical traces.

Unexpectedly, the canisters provided the answers they were looking for. Simonis and fellow volunteers gathered numerous canisters linked to this unfamiliar weapon. Some still displayed the manufacturer's logo, Defense Technologies, and the label "HC," indicating that these canisters had contained a chemical agent unlike anything previously encountered by protesters in Portland or beyond.

Following an intense summer of demonstrations, a routine had developed between police and protesters. Each night, from late May to mid-July, activists gathered in front of the Justice Center, where police monitored the situation. As the crowd began to march, the Portland Police Bureau (PPB) followed closely, ready to deploy less-lethal munitions, including tear gas, flash-bangs, and smoke grenades. At the close of each evening, a few officers would clear away the debris left behind, but the residual traces of these munitions often remained untouched.

This established pattern shifted dramatically after President Trump’s executive order on June 26, which initiated Operation Legend—a broad Department of Homeland Security (DHS) effort aimed at protecting historical sites from Black Lives Matter demonstrations. On July 2, 114 federal agents, including U.S. Marshals and ICE officers, arrived in Portland.

While the PPB had relied on individual tear gas canisters, the new federal agents introduced advanced distribution methods, such as thermal foggers—akin to the equipment seen in Ghostbusters 2—resulting in minimal evidence of their use. Newly deputized PPB officers also began power-washing the steps of the Justice Center nightly, inadvertently sending untreated toxic waste into the stormwater system, along with residues that could have revealed the nature of the tear gas.

Within three days of retrieving the first canister, Simonis found themselves tear-gassed and arrested by federal agents. As they recuperated from the violent encounter, reports began to circulate among other medics regarding unusual symptoms among activists and bystanders, including vomiting and severe burning sensations—far exceeding the expected impacts of tear gas and pepper spray.

Three weeks later, once Simonis was fit enough to venture outside, their earlier sample collections had evolved into a comprehensive project, the Chemical Weapons Research Consortium (CWRC), aimed at identifying the chemical agents used and documenting their deployment in Portland. Collaborating with protesters, journalists, and scientists, Simonis conducted meticulous analyses of the canisters collected after clashes with police, swabbing them for chemical residues to compare against known samples.

To further investigate the unidentified chemicals, CWRC partnered with a local lab, Specialty Analytical. Initial results, released on October 10, confirmed suspicions that federal law enforcement had employed a new compound against Portland protesters. The canisters gathered from protest hotspots contained trace amounts of hexachloroethane (HC), a white powder that, when heated with metal salts, produces a dense cloud of green or white smoke with a camphor-like odor and detrimental effects on biological systems.

"There's no justification for inflicting pain on individuals who haven't done anything wrong," Simonis asserted.

HC is classified as a highly regulated toxin, considered a "likely carcinogen" and skin irritant by the Environmental Protection Agency. Those handling the substance are advised to wear eye masks and gloves. Defense Technologies markets HC canisters as "military-style" smokers, despite the fact that the U.S. military ceased using HC in grenades in the 1990s due to its severe toxicity.

Activists express greater concern over the chemicals released from the canister rather than those contained within. When an HC grenade is discharged, it triggers a two-stage reaction, combining chlorine in HC with metallic zinc, resulting in zinc chloride—an extremely toxic fume that manifests as greenish-white smoke. Simonis explains, "It's a chemical reaction in a can," emphasizing that zinc chloride is an intended byproduct of the grenade's design.

Gaseous zinc chloride, also referred to as hexite, poses significant dangers beyond conventional tear gas. Due to the presence of both chloride ions and zinc, a heavy metal, hexite clouds are highly mobile and hazardous to various life forms. The chloride ions facilitate the absorption of zinc particles by exposed skin and mucous membranes, potentially leading to tissue accumulation and a range of alarming symptoms. The immediate effects of zinc chloride toxicity—such as vomiting, skin burning, and coughing—can evolve into chronic respiratory issues, severe liver damage, fatigue, weight loss, and difficulty breathing.

In stark contrast to the short-lived agony caused by tear gas, zinc toxicity presents a distinct risk. "Traditional tear gas inflicts pain through a specific mechanism," notes B. Zane Horowitz, PhD, an emergency toxicologist in the Portland area. "It short-circuits the nervous system's pain response, creating the sensation of pain without lasting harm—most of the time. However, as Horowitz emphasizes, "There’s no justification for inflicting pain on individuals who haven’t done anything wrong."

The introduction of this new chemical complicated medics' efforts to provide assistance during protests while maintaining social distancing protocols. Logan Krus, a medic affiliated with the Rosehip Medic Collective, noted that individuals often instinctively remove their masks after exposure, heightening their vulnerability to both viral transmission and surveillance. In cases of conventional tear gas exposure, the low likelihood of long-term damage enables individuals to choose to endure the pain rather than risking contamination during eye washes. "Tear gas is a horrendous experience, but if someone wants to wash your eyes in a non-Covid-safe manner, it's reasonable to refuse care," Krus stated, as symptoms typically resolve on their own. The long-term dangers of zinc chloride, however, alter that calculus.

Prior to the emergence of the green gas, medics had been distributing respirators to BIPoC activists to prevent them from having to remove their masks during tear gas exposure, which could expose them to Covid. The appearance of the strange smoke prompted a panic. "How do we get many more respirators?" Krus recalled.

Given that zinc chloride behaves differently from standard tear gases, detecting its presence has proven challenging, complicating CWRC's efforts to hold accountable those responsible for deploying the hazardous chemical.

"Now I don’t approach federal agents without a gas mask," Simonis noted.

In September, Portland's Bureau of Environmental Services (BES) initiated its own testing of tear gas effects on the stormwater system, partly in response to calls from local lawmakers earlier that summer. The agency sampled three manholes and six storm drains in proximity to protest activity. "Our objective was to collect a sample of the stormwater in that pipe before the first rain flushed it into the river," explained BES public information officer Diane Dulken. On September 10, BES released a statement indicating they had detected elevated levels of hexavalent chromium, lead, and other metals near the courthouse and Justice Center, but that "contaminant levels fell to normal ranges before reaching the Willamette River." Mayor Ted Wheeler, who had recently issued an executive order prohibiting the PPB from using tear gas, expressed concern over the excessive deployment of chemical weapons on protesters but referred to the report as "good news." No further measures have been announced to address the contamination issue.

Simonis contends that the BES investigation and Wheeler’s conclusions are inadequate. "If you understand how chemicals, both beneficial and harmful, behave in aquatic systems, you don’t take samples from a single point at a single time and make any assertions about mobilization," Simonis explained. Heavy metals often do not travel through aquatic systems uniformly; instead, they accumulate in sediment pockets and leach into the water. This means that "a low concentration downstream indicates little," Simonis cautioned.

The federal government's lack of cooperation regarding chemical weapons legislation and local lawmakers has further obstructed research efforts by CWRC and BES. Federal agents have erected an illegal barricade around the Mark O. Hatfield Courthouse, refusing to allow BES to test the storm drain on-site, even in light of the city’s threat to impose a $20,000 fine for each day the barricade remains after September 10.

In October, several environmental NGOs and nonprofits filed a lawsuit against acting DHS Secretary Chad Wolf. They accused him and the DHS of neglecting to conduct environmental impact assessments for any of the chemical munitions used, failing to submit an emergency plan as required, and withholding access to deployment data. All these obligations fall under the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) of 1970. Lacking this documentation, both BES and CWRC have relied on volunteer information and social media to substantiate the use of HC.

The lawsuit also claims that DHS personnel have misused tear gas and other munitions by targeting crowds directly and shooting canisters at individuals. The DHS did not respond to a request for comment.

Krus has adapted a respirator in anticipation of another wave of protests in the spring. As lockdown measures tighten nationwide, street protests have begun to dwindle. However, medics like Krus are already preparing for a resurgence of activism once warmer weather returns. The risk of coronavirus transmission is expected to remain a concern. Recently, Krus modified a Honeywell 7600 manual respirator to utilize a microphone attachment instead of a speaker port to enhance Covid safety—an innovation they intend to share with the broader protest community when spring arrives.

"Winter months in Portland tend to be quieter," Krus noted. "Next summer, I expect, will still be an intriguing time."

Simonis, whose inquiry into the ecological ramifications of hexite and HC continues, believes that the mistrust of law enforcement—especially federal agents—among activists is unlikely to dissipate soon. "The extent to which law enforcement disregards the value of Black lives is evident in their readiness to deploy known toxic hazardous waste chemicals indiscriminately," Simonis remarked. "Now I don’t approach federal agents without a gas mask."

The first video, titled "Portland protesters counter teargas with leaf blowers in standoff with federal troops," showcases a creative response by demonstrators to the use of tear gas during protests.

The second video, titled "Oregon Jan. 6 rioter pleads guilty after spraying officers with bear spray: DOJ - YouTube," provides insight into legal consequences faced by individuals participating in violent protest actions.