I woke up to the sound of my dogs in an absolute panic.
Not normal barking. The kind of frantic, desperate sound that tells you your dog knows there’s a threat nearby.
If you’ve ever had a dog, you know the difference.
I jumped out of bed and started moving toward the stairs. I told my wife to stay where she was and that I would tell her once I knew what was happening.
As I crept down in the dark, I looked out the window — and saw a man hiding behind the bushes at the edge of my yard. He was dressed in black tactical gear, rifle at the low ready and looking towards my house. He was carrying an AR-15 equipped with a suppressor -- a serious kit, especially in New York where these rifles have been outlawed, and suppressors are nearly impossible to legally own.
The man in the shadows raised his rifle, pointing it at my face.
I dropped to the stairs to get out of the line of sight and scrambled back up, dragging my dogs with me, terrified they’d be shot. I pulled up my security camera feed on my phone.
My house was surrounded.
Just days earlier, Rolling Stone had published a profile of me with the headline: “The Neo‑Nazi Hunter Next Door.” The story went viral. It was everywhere — including in the Telegram chats I had been infiltrating for years inside white supremacist networks.
They were furious.
The piece described how Task Force Butler Institute had released a report identifying specific members of Patriot Front tied to hate crimes in Idaho, Pennsylvania, and Massachusetts. That report was being used to build civil cases, as Patriot Front was getting dragged into court around the country. Arrests were happening.
I threw my dogs into the bedroom and closed the door behind them, shouting to my wife: “Stay upstairs! We’re being swatted!”
This was what we had expected. It was only a matter of time.
The Aryan Freedom Network had just published a screenshot of my New York voter registration — including my home address — across extremist Telegram channels. “Say hello to your k*** family,” wrote Tonia Sue Berry, using an anti-Jewish slur, as she shared a family Christmas photo which included two toddlers.
Tonia Sue Berry uses the online moniker Daisy Barr — the name of one of the KKK’s first women leaders. She was furious after I publicly revealed that she had personally vetted me and shared the location of the Aryan Freedom Network’s White Unity Conference in Texas.
In chats linked to the international terrorist organization Atomwaffen, a user going by the handle Kobra401k asked for my phone number and address. An admin for the group replied and directed him to the dox shared by Daisy Barr in one of Atomwaffen’s channels.
That admin was Brandon Clint Russell, a former Florida National Guardsman and cofounder of Atomwaffen, who days after sharing my address would be arrested for planning a terrorist attack against the electrical grid. Kobra401k, who asked for my phone number and address, was Kyle Paul Reynolds. Reynolds would later be indicted in federal court on weapons charges. Unlawful possession of a firearm and ammunition by a convicted felon. He had previously been sentenced for five years for beating a senior citizen.
What drew the police to my house that night was a caller claiming to be me, saying that I had already murdered my wife, and was armed inside my house, waiting for police to try to stop me.
That is what a “death‑by‑cop” swatting attempt looks like.
Police responded as if they were walking into a potential standoff with a madman. Weapons drawn. Split‑second decisions. My family inside.
I noticed my phone had two missed calls from a number I had saved. A local detective.
Thankfully, years prior to this, I introduced myself to the department, and let them know who I am, what I do for work, and that my getting swatted was virtually inevitable. I live in a small town, so thankfully, they took this warning seriously.
That preventative action may be why my door wasn’t breached — it may be why I’m alive today.
I called back and verified with the detective that this was the situation we anticipated. He gave the order to stand down from their most aggressive posture, but told me that they still had to complete the welfare check. I would have to go outside on this freezing night with my hands up, lift my shirt to show I wasn’t armed, and talk with the police so that they could complete their welfare check.
The police I met on my porch that night were filled with even more adrenaline than I was. One officer kept repeating himself as I explained the concept of swatting to him. I could tell they were all deeply shaken. Something like this happening in our town? At the time, this was unheard of.
But this was only the beginning.
Seven months later, in September 2023, my home was targeted again — this time in connection with a Telegram channel calling itself “Appalachian Archives.” That channel had already doxxed me, taking the information that the Aryan Freedom Network had and spreading it further. The user behind the account had declared its mission was to make reporting on extremism “dangerous.” And after the second swatting attempt, it posted audio of the call online like it was a trophy.
This wasn’t random harassment. “Kristofer Goldsmith was only the beginning,” they wrote in a threat to other researchers and journalists.
Appalachian Archives quickly escalated — from doxxing journalists and encouraging harassment campaigns, to posting direct threats, and even showing up at a reporter’s home with an allied neo-Nazi gang, the Tennessee Active Club, to take a series of propaganda photos. They stood outside Raw Story’s Jordan Greene’s house burning road flares with a sign that said “Freedom of the Press is not Freedom from Consequence.”
Then Appalachian Archives and the Tennessee Active Club started posting photos with Gabrielle Hanson, a mayoral candidate in Franklin, Tennessee. Not to intimidate her — but because they were interviewing her, endorsing her, and acting as security at her campaign events.
It wasn’t until August 2024 that the person — or one of the people — behind the Appalachian Archives account was hit with federal charges. One day after Kai Liam Nix was publicly identified in The New Yorker in an article titled Infiltrating the Far Right, with help from researcher Jeff Tischauer at the SPLC.
The person behind that channel — was a member of Patriot Front. He was charged with firearms trafficking and lying on a federal security clearance form. He wasn’t just some anonymous troll in a basement.
He was an active-duty soldier with the 82nd Airborne out of Fort Bragg, North Carolina.
A man threatening journalists, posting recordings of swatting calls, and working with a neo-Nazi crew to support a MAGA republican mayoral candidate in Tennessee — was being paid by and trained to fight with American tax dollars.
He pled guilty in September 2025, and his sentencing has since been continued, extending the timeline of accountability. It’s a case that seems to keep facing unusual delays, and my suspicion is that it’s because he’s become a cooperating witness for the government against Patriot Front.
Brandon Clint Russell was found guilty on charges of terrorism and will be behind bars for a long while. Kyle Paul Reynolds is out on $10,000 bail, living in Rhode Island, and a federal court has granted him permission to travel to Massachusetts for work and medical appointments. Tonia Sue Berry told journalists last year that she’s continuing to grow her organization. None, to this day have been charged for any doxing, swatting, or threats against me or any other journalist. The federal government rarely prosecutes these crimes, even though they can be deadly.
Extremism doesn’t just live online.
It doesn’t stay in chat rooms.
It lives in human beings, who work to harass, intimidate, and cause violence against truth-tellers.
The point is deterrence.
If you can make reporting dangerous — the way Kai Liam Nix tried to — you can slow it down. If you can make investigators fear for their families’ safety, maybe they’ll quit. If you can make local journalists feel isolated, you can operate in the dark.
But that only works if no one connects the dots.
That’s where local investigative journalism, and the antifascist researchers who provide tips to journalists, becomes a firewall.
Today’s guest is Phil Williams of NewsChannel 5 Nashville — one of the most relentless investigative reporters in the country. Phil has tracked extremist networks, exposed corruption, and followed the money and the lies when others were content to look away. He was targeted by Appalachian Archives, Kai Liam Nix, who attempted to blackmail him into adjusting his reporting. But Phil never backed down.
In this episode, we’re going to talk about how these intimidation ecosystems actually function, and what we can do about it.
How does a local journalist, or anyone working with their identity known to the public, work to expose extremism in their hometown? Why does federal accountability move slowly — and why does local journalism so often move first?
This isn’t just about what happened to me.
It’s about how escalation works.
It’s about how extremism tests the boundaries of our institutions.
And it’s about why journalism — real journalism — is one of the last lines of defense we have.
Because democracy is worth going on offense for.
🎧 Listen to the full episode above or wherever you get your podcasts.
📰 Read and subscribe to Phil Williams’ Hate Comes to Main Street:
If this episode resonated with you, support local investigative journalism — not just in Nashville, but in your own community.
Extremist movements don’t start in Washington. They test themselves in towns. They recruit locally. They normalize locally.
And they can be stopped locally.
If you’re serious about acting where you live:
Start or join an Antifascist Book Club: https://veteransfightingfascism.org
Access antifascist field manuals and organizing tools: https://taskforcebutler.org
Pay attention to your local politics. Show up to city council meetings. Follow your local reporters. Don’t let hate operate quietly in your town.
This podcast, this newsletter, and Valor Media Network are now my full-time focus.
This month I stepped into an unpaid role as President of VALOR Media Network, and On Offense is now my primary source of income.
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No one else is coming to save your town.
But you can defend it.
Let’s go on offense.
