What he is accused of doing—a shove directed at a man—could be charged as a misdemeanor, whereas his words may result in a felony count.
Jaxton Tayte Collins, a 21-year-old from Montana, had spent time at a downtown Helena bar when he allegedly shoved a man of South Asian heritage and allegedly told him to “go back to his country.” The combination of those remarks and the physical act could bring a sentence of up to five years in jail.
According to coverage from the Billings Gazette, the complainant told officers he was walking with friends when a man wearing an orange shirt and a large cross necklace approached his companion, who is of Indian descent and wears a head covering. The orange-shirted man—later identified as Collins—reportedly shoved the friend with both hands and urged him to return to his homeland. Onlookers characterized the August 7 incident as an assault and described it as frightening.
Police subsequently found Collins nearby. He told officers he had been drinking at a bar and had told the victim to go back to his own country “because he was angry,” but he denied pushing him.
On Tuesday, Collins faced arraignment on one count of misdemeanor assault and one felony charge of malicious intimidation or harassment of civil or human rights. Under Montana law, malicious intimidation or harassment occurs when someone intentionally or knowingly aims to terrify, intimidate, threaten, harass, annoy, or offend another person and causes bodily injury, reasonable apprehension of bodily injury, or property damage because of the other person’s race, creed, religion, color, national origin, or involvement in civil rights or human rights activities. Collins entered a not-guilty plea to both charges.
It is plausible that Collins’ conduct could fall under these provisions. Yet the pivotal issue in the case is likely to revolve around the alleged shove itself.
In a statement to Reason, the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE) notes, “The First Amendment protects even highly offensive and hostile speech. At the same time, it does not grant a license to commit assault.”
In Wisconsin v. Mitchell (1993), the Supreme Court affirmed an enhanced sentence for a Black man who provoked friends to attack a white teenager because of his race, ruling that states may impose stricter penalties for crimes motivated by bias—including racial, religious, and cultural bias—and that a person’s words can serve as evidence of that motive.
“Thus, if the defendant assaulted someone on account of his race or national origin, the First Amendment would likely not shield him from an enhanced punishment,” FIRE adds.
Montana’s statute is not unique, and convictions for lesser acts have occurred in other states. California, Washington, Michigan, and Illinois all maintain comparable hate-crime laws that can elevate a crime to a felony when force is used or violence is threatened against someone because of race, religion, or other characteristics.
Reason reported in 2019 on Timothy Trybus, who was convicted of two felony hate-crimes in Chicago after drunkenly harassing a woman wearing a Puerto Rican flag shirt. He told her, “You shouldn’t be wearing that in America.” Although Trybus did not physically touch her, his remarks transformed a misdemeanor charge of disorderly conduct into two felonies. He received two years of probation and 200 hours of community service.
Collins faces another hearing on April 8, 2027. If found guilty, he could be imprisoned for up to five years and fined as much as $5,000.
Collins’ statements that night reflect a repugnant form of nativism that runs counter to American ideals. Yet punishing someone solely for their beliefs would also raise serious First Amendment questions. If the shove did occur, it could very well qualify as a Montana felony. If, however, the prosecution concentrates only on his words, FIRE warns that it would raise substantial constitutional concerns.
