The State’s War on the King Ranch: When Law Becomes a Weapon Against the Land

In Coulee City, Washington, a generational ranching family stands accused of crimes they didn’t commit—because the state decided to make an example of them. What began as a minor bureaucratic dispute has become a full-blown crusade, weaponizing environmental law against the very people who help feed America.

The King Ranch, a sixth-generation cattle operation, now faces ruin at the hands of the Washington Department of Natural Resources (DNR), the Department of Ecology, and the Attorney General’s office. Their story is a chilling case study in what happens when ideology replaces law, and citizens become targets of the state.

Just before Christmas in 2021, the Kings received a letter from DNR accusing them of “unauthorized excavation” on both private and public land. The “evidence”? A single blurry Google Earth image allegedly showing damage to alkali wetlands. They were ordered to stop “digging” and “mitigate all damage.” When Kings asked for proof, Ecology told them to file a public records request.

Then Ecology fined them $267,000, relying on a planner who admitted, “When it comes to wetland delineation, I am solid rust.” Despite having no proof of wrongdoing, DNR terminated the Kings’ leases and sought to confiscate every improvement on the land—fences, corrals, everything. In one instance, the agency even accepted the Kings’ lease payment for 2024 before announcing it would not renew the contract, violating its own procedures and the Kings’ due process rights.

While the family was battling civil actions, Attorney General Bob Ferguson’s Environmental Protection Division—created to prosecute “environmental crimes”—secretly opened a criminal investigation. The AG’s office invoked Washington’s racketeering statute, treating this family ranch as an organized crime ring.

Using sealed “Special Inquiry Judge” proceedings, state prosecutors barred defense attorneys from hearings, refused to release evidence, and even threatened witnesses with jail if they disclosed the existence of subpoenas. The Kings only discovered the investigation by accident when a subpoena meant for an employee was mistakenly served to his wife—who, terrified, called the family for help.

Had that error not occurred, the Kings might never have known they were the targets of a criminal probe. In any democracy, this would be scandalous. In Ferguson’s Washington, it’s standard operating procedure.

What makes this persecution especially perverse is its utter lack of legal basis. Under RCW 90.44.050, Washington ranchers have the right to dig permit-exempt stock ponds—an essential practice in arid regions. The King Ranch maintains nineteen such ponds across 20,000 acres, many dating back nearly seventy years. Yet Ecology accused them of going on a “bulldozer spree” to create new ones. Experts, including Ecology’s own consultant, confirmed no such digging occurred after the 2021 letter.

Even so, the AG’s office refuses to close its investigation. The possibility of felony charges lingers. As their attorney, Toni Meacham, has said, “This isn’t prosecution—it’s persecution.”

And she’s right. The state’s intent is transparent: exhaust the Kings financially and emotionally until they break. By branding lifelong stewards of the land as criminals, they send a message to every rancher in Washington—resist us, and we will destroy you.

This campaign isn’t about protecting wetlands or wildlife. The Kings are known for their conservation ethic, maintaining habitat, controlling noxious weeds, and ensuring both livestock and wildlife thrive. This is about control—replacing rural independence with bureaucratic dominance.

Governor Ferguson touts himself as the nation’s “most environmental” leader, but his administration’s brand of environmentalism looks a lot like authoritarianism. True environmental stewardship requires balance between people and the land. The King Ranch case shows what happens when that balance collapses—when regulators become zealots and laws become weapons.

For nearly a century, the Kings have been exemplary caretakers, their family embodying the grit and humility that built the American West. To see them dragged through secret proceedings and threatened with prison is more than an injustice—it’s a warning.

If the state can do this to the Kings, it can do it to anyone. When environmental enforcement becomes political vengeance, when the law is used not to protect but to punish, we cease to be governed by fairness and become ruled by fear.

The King Ranch is not just defending its property—it is fighting for the survival of rural America, for the principle that honest citizens should not have to fear their government. Their stand reminds us that liberty, like land, must be defended—because once it’s lost, we may never get it back.