I attended Randall Terry's open house and ended up in an anti-abortion video shoot

I went for the open house, ended up in a video shoot, and stood shoulder to shoulder with some of the most radical figures in the anti-abortion movement.

Dec 09, 2025

I arrived at the property on the corner of N. Highland St. and Faxon Ave., at 4 p.m., expecting a standard open house experience. Perhaps there would be designated greeters at the door welcoming and guiding small groups of visitors through the facility. Or perhaps visitors would freely peruse the facility on their own while snacking on complimentary morsels from a refreshments table. There'd likely be promotional pamphlets handed out to visitors in hopes of attracting recruits or financial supporters, along with envelopes for donations. But what happened was like nothing I'd experienced before…

This post is part of a series in partnership with TN Repro News.

I was perusing online anti-choice outlets on a warm, cloudy day in November, when I came across a LifeSiteNews article that caught my attention: Randall Terry was starting a training academy for anti-choice radicals in my hometown - Memphis, Tennessee - as part of a new “Rescue Resurrection” movement that Terry hopes will revive (‘resurrect’) the radical rescue movement of the 1980s and 1990s.

Randall Terry is the infamous founder of Operation Rescue, a radical anti-abortion group that gained notoriety for aggressively obstructing and harassing abortion patients, providers, and clinics in the 1980s and 1990s. Terry and other “direct-action” anti-abortion activists refer to their movement's activities, “in which protesters block access to clinics and hospitals and insist on being jailed,” as rescues.1

Terry's public statements over the decades have generated opprobrium. For example, in an appearance on MTV in 2013, Terry said of the anti-abortion movement, “Do we want to make the pill illegal? Yes. Do we want to make the IUD illegal? Yes. The morning after pill? Yes. The patch? Yes… [T]hey all have to be made illegal. A woman has to go to jail if she kills her baby.”

Randall Terry's most infamous statements came in the wake of a horrific act of violence. When abortion provider Dr. George Tiller was assassinated inside his church, at the start of Sunday service, by an anti-abortion radical, Terry responded by calling Tiller a mass murderer who was “every bit as evil as Nazi war criminals,” and that Tiller “reaped what he sowed.” Terry also said that Tiller's assassination “has the potential to propel [the anti-abortion movement] more quickly to our goal.”

Randall Terry’s partner in the Rescue Resurrection endeavor is a Terresa Bukovinac and her “progressive” anti-abortion group, Progressive Anti-Abortion Uprising (PAAU). PAAU’s website states a commitment to “progressive feminist values.” This makes Terry and Bukovinac a seemingly odd match, given that Terry has stated that he “hates” feminists.2

And why here? Why Memphis? Why set up shop in a state where abortion is banned?

In a later press release, a spokesperson for Rescue Resurrection said that “Memphis was chosen because it is where Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated and is the home of the National Civil Rights Museum, which highlights the connection between civil disobedience and changing the law.”

Terry has long sought to associate his radical anti-abortion tactics with the Civil Rights movement. A 1989 Washington Post article observed:

Terry's followers liken him to the civil rights leaders of the 1960s, saying he uses nonviolent means to challenge a morally repugnant law. Terry does not discourage the comparison, describing the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. as "one of my mentors." "The blacks were demonstrating for their own rights, and we are rescuing other people and standing up for babies' rights," he said.3

Civil Rights leaders, however, have denounced Terry's appropriation of their movement. For example, the 1989 Washington Post article reported:

Ten civil rights leaders, led by former Georgia lawmaker Julian Bond, recently joined in a statement denouncing Operation Rescue, likening the group "to the segregationists who fought desperately to block black Americans from access to their rights.”4

The three-day launch of the Rescue Resurrection training camp included a tour of the National Civil Rights Museum.

‘Curious, I decided to attend.’

Advertised on Rescue Resurrection’s website was a pre-launch, public open house and tour of the training camp’s facilities, which consist of a church, two residential homes, and a small school building. “Oh, neat,” I thought to myself. “It's not every day that a radical anti-abortion group invites the public to tour their facilities. This could be a cool opportunity just to see what's up.” Curious, I decided to attend.

Screenshot of the Rescue Resurrection website advertising the open house and tour

I walked into the church sanctuary to find a group of around 20 people being led in prayer by a short, stout, Catholic priest in a long, black cassock, Rev. Msgr. Victor Ciaramitaro. I glanced around at the cream, brick walls and beautiful, open timber roof. Large silhouettes of fetuses hung on both sides of a wooden platform at the altar area. “Msgr. Victor,” as he was called, blessed the building and grounds, and prayed for the success of Rescue Resurrection's radical mission.

This was followed by 20 minutes of doing absolutely nothing.

The people there were generally friendly, some having hailed from as far away as California and New York. I introduced myself using my real name and answered questions honestly. This was just an open house, after all. Not some sort of secret sting operation at a closed event. I might even run into someone I knew, I thought, and we could hug, and chat, and catch up. No one asked my stance on abortion.

Some people sat down in the rows of chairs or stood off to themselves. Others gathered in small clusters and engaged in friendly conversation.

A cheerful, white-haired man in a plaid flannel shirt, named Gary, shared the news of his daughter's upcoming wedding. His daughter, said Gary, had made him promise that he would not be in jail on her wedding day.

Terresa Bukovinac, the founder of PAAU who has relocated to Memphis to dedicate her time to Rescue Resurrection, excitedly shared her intention to run for President of the United States in 2028. Wearing a long, red coat and red lipstick, with her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, Bukovinac discussed registering to run for President in New Jersey. This, she explained, would enable her to place anti-abortion ads on TV that will air in the New York City area — ads specifically criticizing U.S. Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (“AOC”).

Of AOC, Bukovinac said, “I just want to mess up her life. I don’t need votes. I just need to run the ads.”

It was during this 20 minutes of do-nothingness that I noticed that there were two professional videographers there filming. The videographers appeared to be working with Randall Terry, coordinating and staging certain shots. Because of this, I assumed the videographers were hired to do this work.

I have since learned that one of those videographers is named Ford Fischer, who describes himself as a “primary source documentarian.” I reached out to Ford Fischer to find out if he was being paid by or was working with Randall Terry, but he has not responded to my questions. Fischer later posted a video on YouTube showing the “soft launch” of the academy which had taken place later in the evening, after the conclusion of the open house.

Randall Terry working with videographers and others

‘How many of you are ready to be arrested?’

About 30 minutes after I had arrived at the Rescue Resurrection open house on N. Highland St, and once the videographers had positioned their cameras in just the right spots, fixed firmly on Randall Terry standing tall in the center aisle of the church sanctuary, Terry began a brief welcome speech.

“Welcome to the official nickel tour of our new campus,” Terry began. (A “nickel tour” is a brief, informal tour.) Dressed in black, slim fit pants, a black leather jacket, and a western bolo tie, Terry discussed the cost of the property, his plans for making the property financially solvent, and more. (*This will be discussed in a separate article later this week.)

What really tipped me off that this wasn't going to be a run-of-the-mill open house was when Randall Terry asked the group a series of questions.

“How many people here were arrested in Operation Rescue, the original?” Multiple people raised their hands.

“How many people here have been arrested recently for any number of activities?” Several people raised their hands.

“How many people here are ready to be arrested?” Nearly everyone enthusiastically raised their hands. (Obviously, I did not raise my hand, along with a couple of other people.)

Throughout my time at the open house, I was struck by the fervency of those in attendance. Arrests were treated as a badge of honor, notches on a belt. The more, the better. Two days later, many of those I’d met at the open house were arrested for blockading the Planned Parenthood building in Memphis. (Abortion is banned in Tennessee.)

‘So this is what it’s like to be on reality TV.’

Terry, who is disarmingly affable, led the group on a tour of the grounds, beginning with the basement level of the church building. We walked single-files down a narrow stairway and into a large, open room. That's when things got a little weird.

As Terry led us through, videographers circled us, filming our every move. At one point, a videographer instructed us to leave one room and then return so that he could film us entering it. A young man in front of me chucked and remarked, “So this is what it's like to be on reality TV.”

While I was a bit unnerved, not having expected to be videoed, the enthusiasm and excitement of the others in the group were palpable. Exuberant expressions. “Ooos” and “Ahhhs.” We were led through the several rooms as cameramen circled ‘round.

Next, Terry led us outside and instructed to stand around a large sign at the corner of N. Highland and Faxon. The sign said, “Rescue Resurrection.” Through the noise of the afternoon traffic, we were told to pose for a photograph.

Now, at this point I had surmised that I was likely the only member of the public who'd come to the open house. That I was the sole supporter of reproductive rights among a crowd of anti-abortion devotees, radically dedicated to the “rescue” cause. So, being asked to pose for a photograph sent my mind racing.

“Do I follow the directions and pose for their group picture, or do I not? I thought this was just an open house. What is even happening?!!”

Nervous, feeling totally out of my element, somewhat overwhelmed by the oddities of the event thus far, and not knowing what to do, I joined the group for the picture. I tried to position myself in the back of the group, partially hidden. That worked for a minute. And then Randall Terry repositioned himself directly beside me. There was no way to hide.

So, I just went with it.

I smiled for some of the pictures. For others, I made a goofy face — amused to find myself the random pro-choicer photo-boming a group picture of radical anti-choicers.

“Rescue Resurrection!” everyone cheered.

‘A history hall of rescue’

The video cameras kept rolling as we walked past the academy's two residential homes and a playground. In the future, the residences will provide a place for recruits, along with any children they may have, to stay during their training at the academy. I was impressed by Terry's enthusiasm for accommodating families in this way.

We slowly made our way to a small, rectangular building that used to be a school, and huddled around Randall Terry just outside the door to the building, shivering in the cold. He began to speak.

Those in attendance at the open house that day included people who had participated in the obstruction and harassment of abortion patients, providers, and clinics in the 1980s and 1990s; current anti-abortion activists and leaders; a few wide-eyed and idealistic new recruits; and, of course, me. While I don't know the names of everyone who was there, several of the major players in attendance are listed below.

Joan Andrews Bell: The “matriarch of rescue,” Bell has been arrested over 200 times in the course of her anti-abortion activities.
Dr. Monica Miller: Miller is the director of Citizens for a Pro-life Society and co-founder of Red Rose Rescue. She has been arrested multiple times in the course of her anti-abortion activities.
Father “Fidelis” Moscinski: Fidelis is a member of the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal who has been arrested multiple times in the course of his anti-abortion activities.
Constance Becker: Becker was the former executive coordinator at PAAU.
Melanie Salazar: Salazar is the executive director of Pro-Life San Francisco.
Nathan Berning: Berning is the co-founder, executive chairman, and former CEO of Let Them Live.
Stephen Broden: When Randall Terry ran for president in 2024, as the far-right Constitution Party's nominee, Broden was his vice presidential running mate.

It was unusually cold that day. We stood shivering outside the doors of the former school building as cars sped down N. Highland. Against the sounds of car horns and engines, Terry instructed the videographers to make sure to be inside the building first, so that they could film us entering.

“This is a history hall of rescue,” Terry said. “The mission here is to have what happened in the past inspire us for the present and the future.”

After a short pause to allow the videographers to get into position, we walked into a long hallway located at the center of the building. The floor is brightly colored with blocks of red, blue, green, and yellow, and the walls are painted white — typical of a former school building.

Like this article? Tip the author.

As I walked inside, my eyes were drawn to large, impressive, historical photographs of anti-abortion blockades from the twentieth century. The photographs, arranged chronologically down the white walls of the hallway and transitioned through time from black and white into color, had a seductive effect, giving the impression that you were a part of something special— a monumental struggle, something for the history books. I imagined how intoxicating this must have felt to the new recruits.

As I moved down the hallway, the presence of the videographers momentarily faded from my mind.

The events captured in the photographs included the Siege of Atlanta, among other large blockades across the country. One photograph showed three anti-abortion “rescuers” standing behind the bars of a jail cell. Others depicted activists being arrested. Another was a 1989 mugshot of Randall Terry.

Some members of the group, including Joan Andrews Bell and Dr. Monica Migliorino Miller, pointed to photographs of themselves or blockades they had attended and reminisced.

Joan Andrews Bell and Dr. Monica Migliorino Miller look at photographs

When Stephen Broden arrived, Randall Terry instructed us to “please give him a hero's welcome.” When Broden walked inside, the crowd clapped and cheered, and Terry spoke of Broden's televised comments regarding abortion.

During Terry's 2024 presidential bid, Broden was featured in campaign ads accusing Joe Biden, Kamala Harris, and the Democratic Party of “killing for the KKK.”5 “Lynching black babies by abortion in their mother’s womb, they’ve convinced black women that the answer to unintended pregnancy is to murder their babies,” Broden said in the ad.6

Broden's comments in that campaign ad align with the myth of abortion as Black genocide. As Shyrissa Dobbins-Harris notes in the National Black Law Journal, “The underlying assumption of this myth is that Blackwomen lack the critical thinking skills to avoid falling into the pitfall of ‘murdering their babies.’”7

Stephen Broden stands with Randall Terry

As the videographers continued recording, Terry called our attention to a large photograph mounted midway down the hallway. The photograph, taken in Philadelphia in July 1988, shows Randall Terry standing in front of a large crowd of anti-abortion “rescuers” seated on the ground. In the background is a large, white banner with the words “OPERATION RESCUE” featured in bold, red lettering.

In Randall Terry's hands is a box containing a small, deceased fetus. “That's the original ‘Baby Choice,’” He told us. I was, however, able to find an earlier instance of a deceased fetus being displayed and referred to as “Baby Choice” at an anti-abortion event in 1987. Whether Terry acquired and re-used that same fetus at the 1988 event in Philadelphia, I do not know.

“You can find that photo online, by the way, and a lot of the media outlets blur the baby of course. They want to hide the truth,” Terry told us. “They always want to hide the truth,” one man commented in response. Those who blur the image of the fetus, Terry said, were collaborators — they were collaborating with evil.

“They have a right to be seen,” Dr. Monica Miller said with a passionate assertiveness. “The aborted unborn have a right to be seen.”

‘I just wanted to come to the open house.’

I had come for an open house and tour, ended up in some sort of video shoot, and posed for a group photograph that hopefully doesn't land me on an FBI watch list. I had stood shoulder to shoulder with some of the most radical figures in the anti-abortion movement, met enthusiastic and idealistic new recruits, and taken a photographic tour through the history of the “rescue” movement.

I'd been asked if I was ready to go to jail, where I was from, and if it was usually so cold in Memphis this time of year (this was a recurring question, and the answer is no).

There was one question that I didn't answer honestly. — When a kind, older gentleman in a blue windbreaker thought that I was 10 years younger than I actually am, I did not disabuse him of that mistaken belief. A girl's gotta have her vanity.

The oddities and periodic anti-abortion vitriol aside, it turned out to be an enjoyable experience.

Shortly before heading home, I was casually talking with Terresa Bukovinac. Assuming I was a new recruit, she then asked, “Who recruited you?”

“Nobody,” I responded. “I just wanted to come to the open house.” ■

rePro-Truth

Discussion about this post

Ready for more?