(Continued...)

HALF MAST Kokesh holds a U.S. flag during a demonstration at the Hart Senate Office Building on Capitol Hill

On May 1, Kokesh received notification from the government that Mjr. Whyte had recommended his "honorable discharge" status be stripped and changed to an "other-than-honorable discharge," the most serious sanction possible, which involves a loss of VA health benefits, the right to be buried at Arlington National Cemetery, and, in his case, having to pay back the $10,000 he received on the GI Bill. The charges: uniform violation and disrespecting a superior under the Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ).

Kokesh closed the e-mail with a request for the investigating officer to "please, kindly, go fuck [him]self"Kokesh was a member of the Individual Ready Reserve (IRR), a category most soldiers fall into for the period after they've left active duty but haven't yet completed their eight-year military obligations. IRR members can be recalled to active duty at any time, a process that's been described as a "backdoor draft," but under the rule book, they receive no benefits, no salary, and fall under no chain of command. Kokesh's lawyers argued that, as an IRR member, he was a civilian: the Uniform Code of Military Justice had no jurisdiction.

"My mother was afraid for me in Iraq, but she should be more afraid now," Kokesh contends. "Instead of the insurgents, today it's the United States government that's after me."

Kokesh maintains he made it clear he was acting as a civilian and not a Marine when he partook in the mock patrol, consciously removing the name tag and insignias from his uniform. Wearing a military uniform in such a re-enactment, his lawyers argue, is "street theater," an action protected by the 1970 Supreme Court decision handed down in Schacht vs. United States, even if the performance could be found to "discredit" the armed forces in some manner.

According to Mike Lebowitz, an Iraq war vet who serves as Kokesh's lead attorney, the case is the first in which the military has sought to stifle the political speech of an IRR civilian. During the Vietnam War, disgruntled vets protested their war in weathered fatigues, but those dissidents were drafted.

"This is unprecedented," Lebowitz says. "As far as I know, we're the first to fight something completely related to the civilian world against a discharged veteran without orders to return to duty."

"Involuntary separation hearings are almost exclusively related to inherently criminal cases such as drugs or violence," he adds. "In this case, the Marine Corps attempted to label political speech as official misconduct and as a serious offense. The whole thing with Adam was political, no question."

As we approach Longworth, a congressional office building on Capitol Hill, Kokesh is walking fast. He's late to a meeting, and I'm trying to keep up. On the way, he describes the curious path that got him here. This February, a month after moving to Washington to earn a master's degree in political management at George Washington University, he came across the story of Jonathan Schulze, a Marine from Minnesota who had been suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) after a tour in Iraq. Schulze repeatedly sought help from the Veterans Administration, informing them he was suicidal. But his requests for psychiatric care were denied. Shortly thereafter, he hanged himself with an electric chord, a picture of his infant daughter beside him. Kokesh read his story over and over, and was overwhelmed.

"I spent my nights at my computer, sobbing uncontrollably," he says.

The experience changed him. Within a week, he had joined Iraq Veterans Against the War (IVAW); a few days after that, he was participating in the infamous "street theater" event. Two other IVAW Marine reservists, Cpl. Cloy Richards, 23, of Salem, Missouri, and Sgt. Liam Madden, 22, of Boston, Massachusetts, also took part, and would later be investigated for wearing their combat utility uniforms during political protests and making "disrespectful" or "disloyal" statements.

Their charges come at a time when many soldiers returning home are questioning the increasingly unpopular war in which they fought. According to a Zogby poll, 72 percent of U.S. troops serving in Iraq support a troop withdrawal within the year.

In the Longworth cafeteria, Kokesh introduces me to Tina Richards, the mother of fellow IVAW Marine Cloy Richards, who is sitting at a long table with a group of young activists preparing the day's agenda on the Hill. Richards, the founder of Grassroots America, a non-profit devoted to social-justice issues, became a YouTube sensation after a run-in with Rep. Dave Obey (D-WI) in which the congressman informed her that "liberal idiots" trying to de-fund the war were actually hurting the cause of the veterans. Tina Richards and Kokesh have lately been collaborating, and have vowed not to leave Washington until the war is over.

Tina's son, Cloy, returned from Iraq 80 percent combat disabled, suffering from symptoms of traumatic brain injury and DU (depleted uranium) poisoning. He has no other health insurance and can't afford to be denied medical treatment or lose his GI Bill for college. In short, losing his honorable discharge is not an option. Accordingly, Cloy has agreed to the government's request that he not participate in any political rallies in uniform. His mother, in turn, has decided to speak up for him. "It's a form of intimidation and blackmail on the military's part to quiet the combat veterans who are speaking out against the war," she says.

The initial plan for the morning had been to occupy Sen. McCain's office—applying the same techniques soldiers do in Baghdad, Kokesh notes—to protest his Iraq initiatives. ("How does that sound for a first date?" Kokesh joked earlier. "We can get arrested together.") The senator, however, wasn't in. Kokesh and Richards decide to split up for the day, and as we head out, Kokesh is stopped by a busboy who recognizes him from the papers. "Go make something happen, man," he says, extending his arm for a handshake.