Right now I’m sitting at my desk, energy drink in hand, immersed in case files and research notes, staring up at my Ruth Bader Ginsburg poster. As the lead attorney on our Michigan case, I’m now weeks in to preparing for our historic oral argument on behalf of imprisoned chimpanzees, which we expect to be scheduled any day now. I’m feeling deeply determined and cautiously hopeful. This year—hopefully as soon as this summer!—I’ll be standing before the Michigan Court of Appeals, making the case that chimpanzees deserve freedom from unjust imprisonment.
Our case on behalf of seven chimpanzees held captive in the DeYoung Family Zoo is personal for me. Over a decade ago, when I was a law student volunteer with the Nonhuman Rights Project, I worked on researching and preparing a state memo for Michigan that laid the foundation for this very lawsuit. I also wrote the first draft of the first habeas corpus petition we ever filed, which was on behalf of chimpanzees in New York. Now, I’m preparing to argue for the right to liberty of these seven autonomous beings who are living in absolutely appalling conditions at the DeYoung Family Zoo. It’s a full-circle moment—and one I’m incredibly proud to be a part of.
As I prepare to argue our case before top judges in Michigan—reviewing every detail of the case law and practicing for the kinds of questions the Court might throw at me—one of the things that I want to emphasize above all else is what science teaches us about chimpanzees. They form deep social bonds, experience joy and grief, and they have learned to communicate with us and other chimpanzees using sign language. Years ago, a chimpanzee named Washoe literally signed the words “key out.” She was asking for her freedom. Think about that for a second. If a chimpanzee can quite literally ask for their freedom, shouldn’t they have access to it?
If you’re nodding your head in agreement, you’re not alone. Dr. Jane Goodall—yes, that Jane Goodall (my idol as a kid!)—is one of our expert witnesses in our case for chimpanzee rights in Michigan. She filed an affidavit explaining just how intelligent and emotionally complex chimpanzees are. But despite the mountain of evidence supporting our case, the lower court dismissed it with a single sentence. One. Sentence. Michigan can do better than this, and we’re here to make sure they do.
Beyond the clear ethical demands of this case, Michigan has a legal history that makes it the perfect place for this fight. The state has long been ahead of its time when it comes to equality under the law. It even had one of the first cases against racial discrimination before the 14th Amendment to the US Constitution—which guarantees all people equal protection under the law—even existed. Michigan’s courts have recognized that the law should evolve and that like cases should be treated alike. If we win, we’ll be strengthening that tradition—solidifying the values of fairness, equality, justice, and autonomy.
This case is also deeply poetic in a way. We originally came to Michigan in part because we believed our very first habeas corpus client, Tommy, was there. In the midst of our final preparations for the case, we learned, through a combination of Freedom of Information requests and advocacy by NhRP supporters, that Tommy died in a building on the DeYoung property much as he had lived: seemingly alone, vulnerable, with no comfort but what he could offer himself. Now, we have the chance to win freedom for those he was held captive with at the DeYoung Family Zoo. I can think of no better action to take in honor of his legacy.
We have the legal precedent, the science, and—most importantly—the moral obligation to change this gross injustice.
Thank you for standing with us. Your support means the world, and together, we’re making history.
Learn more about the NhRP’s case on behalf of the DeYoung Prisoners here.