At a tense community meeting hosted at Seattle University, Neitzel joined other residents in blasting the county’s plan to convert the Polyclinic Building at 1145 Broadway into a 24/7 mental health and substance use crisis center. The site is one of five facilities funded by a $1.25 billion levy approved by voters in 2023. The first opened in Kirkland last year, and King County intends to open three more adult centers and one for youth by 2030.
Though Neitzel acknowledged the need for such services, she argued Capitol Hill is the wrong location.
“We are struggling. The businesses here are struggling. The residents are unsafe,” she said. “Do they need to come to a neighborhood in absolute dire crisis for the last five, six, seven years?”
What she failed to mention: Her own role in championing the events that contributed to Capitol Hill’s current condition.
In the summer of 2020, Capitol Hill became the center of national attention when far-left Antifa and BLM activists took over a six-block area surrounding Cal Anderson Park. The self-declared Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone (CHAZ), later renamed CHOP (Capitol Hill Occupied Protest), was established after Seattle police abandoned their East Precinct building in the wake of George Floyd riots that rocked the Emerald City. The occupation led to rampant lawlessness, vandalism, and fatal shootings — including the deaths of two black teenagers.
At the time, Molly Moon’s was an outspoken supporter of the movement. On June 12, 2020, the chain announced it was closing to participate in the “March of Silence” organized by Black Lives Matter. Just days later, the shop posted on social media that it would close early due to “safety concerns,” before eventually putting up signs banning armed police officers from entering the store. “Police Officers: Molly Moon’s is a gun-free zone. Please do not come inside if you are wearing a firearm,” one sign read.
Neitzel later told Fox 13, “I am anti the current police system. Yeah, I think we need major reform,” and said the sign was intentionally targeted at law enforcement after the dismantling of CHOP, claiming her employees felt intimidated by officers returning to the neighborhood.
But in a stark reversal, Neitzel’s business turned around and sued the City of Seattle in 2023 for the damage and losses it suffered during the occupation — the very event it publicly supported.
In a federal lawsuit filed in US District Court, Molly Moon’s accused the city of effectively authorizing a “hostile occupation,” violating the company’s constitutional rights and causing major revenue losses. The complaint argued that by abandoning the East Precinct and failing to provide emergency services, the city left businesses like hers in a lawless zone — unprotected and inaccessible.
“This lawsuit does not seek to undermine CHOP participants’ message,” the lawsuit stated. “Rather, this lawsuit is about the plaintiff’s constitutional and other legal rights, which were overrun by the City of Seattle’s decision to abandon and close off an entire city neighborhood.”
The suit painted a picture of an unsafe environment plagued by blocked roadways, armed occupiers, and emergency service failures — nearly identical to the conditions Neitzel now cites in her argument against the crisis care center.
That irony was not lost on attendees at this week’s meeting. Neitzel's claim that Capitol Hill is “in crisis” — and her warning that the crisis center would only deepen community suffering — sharply contrasts with her past rhetoric and actions during the CHOP occupation. Many residents blame that period for setting Capitol Hill on a downward spiral of crime, instability, and economic distress.
According to Seattle Police data, Capitol Hill saw a 9 percent increase in crime during the first four months of 2025, bucking the citywide trend of declining crime. Businesses continue to struggle, and empty storefronts dot once-thriving streets.
Neitzel’s warning that a mental health facility would attract more instability to an already fragile neighborhood may resonate with some. But her role in supporting — and later profiting from — both sides of the crisis has turned her into a symbol of what critics say is performative activism turned opportunism.
As one Capitol Hill resident put it after the meeting, “You can’t burn down the house and then complain about the smoke.”
