Jintana Kaewkao, a 53-year-old activist, shop-owner and mother of three, arrived at the district government office on March 12 ready for a fight.

With local tensions rising over the planned construction of a steel manufacturing plant amid the wetlands and coconut trees of this seaside community of Bangsaphan, Thailand, more than 30 villagers had assembled in the morning heat. Most were women; some had toddlers in tow. They were ready to register their concerns over potential pollution, and a local conglomerate’s questionable land acquisitions, with the district leader.

As usual, they were waiting for Jintana, a charismatic environmental crusader from the neighboring village of Ban Krut, to lead the way.

She didn’t disappoint. Informed that the top district official had stood the villagers up, she marched up the stairs of the building and demanded a meeting with his deputy. Jintana playfully lectured the government official, explained the intricacies of land title law to the villagers, and won a promise of a new meeting later in the month.

She then climbed into a waiting police van. Inside were two cheerful plainclothes officers in black polo shirts, armed with 9 mm Glock pistols.

The cops weren’t there to arrest her. Rather, they serve as her 24-hour protection detail, tasked with making sure she stays alive.

Jintana’s success a decade ago in using community pressure and the courts to block the construction of a major coal-fired power plant in Ban Krut made her a local legend. It also made her a marked woman. In Thailand, environmental activism is exceedingly dangerous — and sometimes fatal.