For decades, terrorism researchers have generally distinguished terrorism from other forms of violence by one defining feature: the intention to intimidate a wider audience beyond immediate victims.
That distinction has shaped both academic research and criminal prosecutions in the U.S. Yet scholars have long debated a deceptively simple question: Is terrorism defined by why violence is committed, or by what the violence is intended to achieve? A new prosecution in Austin, Texas, may test whether that understanding is beginning to change.
The question is now before Texas courts following charges against 17-year-old Cristian Fajardo Mondragon, who, along with two juveniles, is accused of carrying out a two-day series of shootings, vehicle thefts and burglaries across Austin in May 2026. In Texas, 17-year-olds are charged as adults, not juveniles.
According to investigators, the group allegedly fired nearly 150 rounds during 13 separate shootings. They struck homes, occupied vehicles and two fire stations, injured multiple people and prompted shelter-in-place orders.
The case initially involved charges including aggravated assault, deadly conduct and firearm theft. Later, investigators recommended a first-degree terrorism charge, a rarely used offense in a case involving a juvenile suspect.
As a scholar of extremism, I believe this decision reflects a shift in how some prosecutors are applying terrorism laws. Rather than requiring proof of an offender’s political ideology, charging documents often focus on whether the alleged violence was intended to intimidate or coerce a civilian population, create widespread fear or influence government or public behavior.
No single federal crime
There is no single federal crime called “domestic terrorism.”
Federal law defines it as dangerous criminal acts intended to intimidate or coerce civilians or influence government policy. However, Congress has never created a standalone federal domestic terrorism offense.
Instead, federal prosecutors generally rely on statutes covering murder, firearms offenses, conspiracy, hate crimes or civil rights violations. In many domestic terrorism cases, terrorism is not itself the criminal charge. Rather, terrorism designations can affect investigative priorities and may have specific legal consequences where particular statutes apply.
As my own research on terrorism and political violence has found, legal definitions of terrorism have never been static. They evolve as governments confront new forms of violence and seek legal tools to address them. The question has always been where to draw the boundary between terrorism and other forms of serious violent crime.
This legal gap has existed for decades. Scholars have argued that while the U.S. developed extensive legal tools to prosecute international terrorism after 9/11, fewer mechanisms exist for prosecuting domestic political violence.
As a result, states have enacted their own terrorism statutes. Texas amended its terroristic threats statute in 2023, expanding the circumstances under which certain underlying offenses can be elevated to a terrorism-related offense. It allows prosecutors to charge individuals who commit specified violent crimes with the intent to intimidate the public or influence government policy through coercion or intimidation.
Unlike traditional conceptions of terrorism that emphasize ideological motivation or affiliation with extremist organizations, the Texas statute focuses on the defendant’s intent to intimidate or coerce the public or influence government through intimidation.
Texas’ approach reflects a shift away from proving ideological motivation, or why someone committed violence, toward proving what the violence was intended to accomplish – for example, public intimidation or governmental coercion. That distinction is central to current debates over domestic terrorism law and may prove crucial in the Austin prosecution.
Why the Austin case is unusual
According to public reporting on the investigation, Texas investigators have not identified a manifesto, ideological writings or evidence linking the suspects to a recognized extremist movement.
One consistent lesson from terrorism studies is that investigators should avoid assuming motive before evidence becomes available. Mass violence can emerge from multiple pathways. They include extremist beliefs, criminal opportunism, interpersonal grievances or thrill-seeking. And distinguishing among them is crucial.
Instead, prosecutors appear to argue that the shootings themselves created widespread fear throughout Austin while disrupting emergency services after gunfire struck multiple fire stations. The alleged terrorism lies less in an established ideological motive than in the prosecutors’ claim that the defendants intended to intimidate the public and disrupt or influence government operations. That approach represents a significant departure from many of the country’s most widely publicized mass shootings.
The 2022 Buffalo supermarket shooting resulted in a New York state conviction for domestic terrorism motivated by hate under a statute specifically addressing certain mass attacks motivated by hatred based on characteristics such as race, religion or national origin.
Likewise, the 2019 El Paso Walmart shooting in Texas, which killed 23 people, involved federal hate crime charges alongside state capital murder charges because investigators alleged an explicitly anti-immigrant motive.
Other mass-casualty attacks – including those in Boulder, Colorado, in 2021; Highland Park, Illinois, in 2022; and Waukesha, Wisconsin, in 2021 – were prosecuted primarily as homicide cases by state authorities despite generating widespread public fear.
Similarly, the Pearl Street Mall firebombing in Boulder was prosecuted at the state level as a first-degree murder case, while federal prosecutors separately charged the defendant with a hate crime to address the alleged bias-motivated nature of the attack. In each of these cases, state prosecutors relied primarily on homicide statutes rather than state terrorism laws, either because no applicable terrorism offense existed or because homicide charges provided the principal support for prosecution.
Unlike Colorado, Illinois and Wisconsin, Texas has a standalone terrorism statute that enhances liability when violent crimes are committed with the intent to intimidate the public or influence government policy. This statutory framework gives Texas prosecutors an additional charging option that was generally unavailable in those earlier prosecutions.
The Austin case tests whether prosecutors can prove the intent required by Texas’ terrorism statute without establishing an ideological or political motive.
A broader criminal justice debate
Legal scholars have long debated whether terrorism should be defined by motivation or consequences.
In a seminal work on the subject, terrorism expert Bruce Hoffman argues that terrorism has historically involved politically motivated violence intended to communicate a broader ideological message. Brian Michael Jenkins, one of the nation’s leading terrorism scholars, similarly emphasizes that terrorism is violence intended to influence audiences beyond immediate victims.
Others argue that legal definitions should focus less on ideology and more on the deliberate creation of fear.
Former Acting Assistant Attorney General for National Security Mary McCord has argued that the absence of a standalone federal domestic terrorism statute creates inconsistencies. Similar acts of mass violence may be prosecuted differently depending on the perpetrator’s ideology and the available criminal statutes.
The Austin prosecution illustrates this tension.
If Texas courts conclude that prosecutors need only demonstrate an intent to terrorize the public through indiscriminate violence, future cases involving serial shootings, coordinated attacks on infrastructure or prolonged community-wide violence may be prosecuted as terrorism even when investigators never establish a political objective.
Are younger offenders becoming more violent?
The Texas defendants’ ages have also attracted national attention. Juvenile violent crime has declined substantially since the mid-1990s. Arrest rates for homicide, robbery, aggravated assault and other violent offenses remain well below their historical peaks.
At the same time, firearm violence presents a more complicated picture. Firearms have become the leading cause of death among American children and adolescents, and firearm homicide rates among young people increased sharply during and immediately after the COVID-19 pandemic.
Some researchers have argued that youth violence increasingly involves fluid peer networks, sometimes connected or intensified through social media, rather than only traditional street gangs.
At present, investigators have released little evidence explaining what motivated the Austin shootings. Without additional evidence, it would be premature to classify the case as ideological extremism, organized gang violence or another form of criminal activity.
Why this case matters
From the perspective of terrorism research, the most important question may not be whether the Austin defendants are convicted. Instead, it is whether courts accept a legal understanding of terrorism that does not require proof of an ideological motive.
If they do, the Austin case could become an important precedent, encouraging prosecutors elsewhere to consider terrorism charges in cases that previously would have been prosecuted as attempted murder or homicide. That would mark an important example of how state terrorism statutes are being applied to nonideological mass violence.