Mr. Stone also told the woman that she was forbidden to disclose her probation status to anyone, and that if she did not comply with these terms, she could be imprisoned and lose custody of her children, prosecutors said.
To convince the victim that the probation was real, prosecutors said, Mr. Stone arranged for another person, who was not identified, to leave messages on the victim’s telephone purported to be from the “Intelligence Center” of the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration. Mr. Stone also arranged for telephone calls between himself, the victim and this unnamed third person, who pretended to be Judge Anderson, prosecutors said.
It is not clear what relationship, if any, Mr. Stone had with the victim before November 2015. But at some point, Mr. Stone raised the prospect of their relationship turning romantic, prosecutors said. “At one point, he allegedly proposed to marry her, claiming he would then seek discharge of her probation,” prosecutors said in a statement.
Mr. Stone’s scheme was effective, prosecutors said. The victim gave him “over $800,000 in money and property,” according to the indictment. Prosecutors said property linked to Mr. Stone’s dealings with the woman included a home on Kennedy Drive in Colleyville, Texas, a 2017 Toyota Tacoma and a 2016 Mercedes CLS.
How Mr. Stone was able to carry out the scam for more than three years, and what touched off the investigation by law enforcement officials, was not immediately clear. The case was investigated by the Texas Rangers and the U.S. Department of Justice Office of Inspector General, with help from the Fort Worth Police Department, prosecutors said.
NASHVILLE — She struggled through the night as she had so many times before, restless from sickle cell pain that felt like knives stabbing her bones. When morning broke, she wept at the edge of her hotel-room bed, her stomach wrenched in a complicated knot of anger, trepidation and hope.
It was a gray January morning, and Lisa Craig was in Nashville, three hours from her home in Knoxville, Tenn., preparing to see a sickle cell specialist she hoped could do something so many physicians had been unable to do: bring her painful disease under control.
Ms. Craig, 48, had clashed with doctors over her treatment for years. Those tensions had only increased as the medical consensus around pain treatment shifted and regulations for opioid use became more stringent. Her anguish had grown so persistent and draining that she sometimes thought she’d be better off dead.
She was willing to try just about anything to stop the deterioration of her body and mind — and her hope on this day in January 2019 rested in a Nigerian-born physician at Vanderbilt University Medical Center who had long treated the disease, which mostly afflicts people of African descent.
Promising developments in gene therapy have given people with the disease hope that a cure is on the way for an illness that often causes organ failure and premature death. But the first such therapy is more than a year from regulatory approval. It will almost certainly be extremely expensive, cannot reverse the disease’s damage to tissues and organs, and may come too late for people whose bodies are so battered by the disease that they might not survive the grueling treatment.
emerging research suggested that narcotics could actually worsen pain.
Ms. Craig felt doctors were prone to stereotyping her as an addict cadging narcotics and didn’t believe in the extremity of her suffering.
Racist myths persist in medical care, like the idea that Black people tolerate more pain than white people. Such stereotypes have led Black patients to receive poor care, extensive research suggests. That can be especially problematic for sickle cell patients like Ms. Craig, who describe rushing to the emergency room in agony and waiting hours to be seen, only to be sent home still in pain after doctors tell them that their lab results are fine and they should not be suffering.
Biopsies can detect cancer, X-rays a broken bone. But there is no definitive clinical test to determine when a sickle cell patient is suffering a pain crisis.
“This is the essence of the problem,” said Dr. Sophie Lanzkron, the director of the Sickle Cell Center for Adults at the Johns Hopkins Hospital. “There is no objective measure of crisis. The gold standard is the patient tells you, ‘I am having a crisis.’”
widespread screening for the illness in newborns was still about a decade away. Lisa was the only person in her extended family ever to have it diagnosed.
“That was something that was unheard-of,” she said.
Her mother was often her protector, coddling her when the pain set in, while her father urged her to carry on.
no more likely to become addicted to opioids than other chronic pain sufferers, and that their use of narcotics had not skyrocketed as it had in the general population.
stringent guidelines on prescribing narcotic painkillers, though it carved out exceptions for sickle cell.
A few months later, Ms. Craig’s doctors began cutting back on the amount of intravenous narcotics she was given for pain crises. She argued that the reduced doses were not working. Her hematologist, Dr. Jashmin K. Patel, urged her to take hydroxyurea, a chemotherapy drug that is a standard treatment for the disease, saying it would reduce her pain, according to medical records. Ms. Craig had tried it, but had an unusually severe reaction, with mouth sores, hair loss and vomiting, so she stopped. She said she felt that the doctor wasn’t taking her complaints about the side effects seriously. (Most patients can take the drug successfully.)
“Why do you dear doctor still bully me to take it,” Ms. Craig wrote in her journal on Sept. 17, 2017.
She didn’t want a doctor who preached to her, she wrote, but one who listened, because as someone “who deals with how MY body works with this disease don’t you think my expertise outweighs yours.”
reconsidering their reliance on long-term opioid therapy. They have found little evidence to suggest that sickle cell patients who regularly take opioids see their quality of life improve. And their concern about long-term reliance on narcotics is especially high in patients like Ms. Craig, who are living well into middle age with a disease that used to kill its sufferers in childhood or early adulthood.
Dr. Lanzkron at Johns Hopkins said her patients would “end up on these ridiculous doses” and “still have the same level of pain.”
nation’s most stringent restrictions on doctors prescribing opioids during a deadly epidemic, though there were exceptions for sickle cell patients.
“My question is, with the way the state is regulating the narcotics and all that, we could be questioned,” Dr. Hanna said. “We could be red-flagged.”
according to a 2015 survey. Even hematologists rarely specialize in it, with a greater focus on cancers of the blood, which are more prevalent.
Ms. Craig lamented that sickle cell patients did not seem to get the sympathy given to people with other devastating illnesses. Somebody needed to change that, she told her aunt, “and I’m going to be that somebody.”
“Sickle cell patients are not abusing, are not the major cause of people overdosing,” Ms. Craig told her.
Dr. Adetola A. Kassim strolled in, chomping gum. He shook hands with her and her husband.
“So what brings you?” he asked.
hyperalgesia, a condition in which prolonged opioid use can alter patients’ nerve receptors and actually cause more pain.
In many ways, he was echoing Dr. Hanna. She needed to take fewer narcotics. Sickle cell probably was not the cause of some of her pain. But he never questioned whether she was hurting. He listened. He laid out a plan.
“You can’t just come in one day and be like a cowboy,” Dr. Kassim said in a later interview. “You’ve got to win their trust and begin to slowly educate them.”
After she left his office that day, Ms. Craig leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder. “I feel like we should have come here a long time ago,” she said.
‘Too good to be true’
Three months after her first visit with Dr. Kassim, pain radiated through her lower back, left hip, elbows and knees. She was out of hydrocodone, and her next refill was more than a week away.
“Continue alternating between Aleve and extra strength Tylenol,” Karina L. Wilkerson, a nurse practitioner in Dr. Kassim’s office, counseled her in an email, prescribing a muscle relaxer and telling her: “Rest, heat and hydrate.”
Days later, the pain was so unrelenting that Ms. Craig went to the emergency room and got a dose of intravenous narcotics.
She felt as if history was repeating itself. She was trying to wean herself from opioids, to rely mostly on over-the-counter meds, to use heat and ice, but it was not working.
“I feel like I’m a junkie,” she said in an interview, her voice cracking.
The pain returned a day after she left the hospital. With four days until her next visit to Dr. Kassim, she sent another message to ask whether there was anything more to be done, careful not to request hydrocodone. A nurse wrote that she could be prescribed more muscle relaxers, but “we cannot fill any narcotics for you before your appointment.”
Ms. Craig felt as if she was back where she started. Dr. Kassim was friendly, attentive and knowledgeable, yet she was still enduring pain.
“A part of me knew we’d be back in this position,” she said, “that it was too good to be true.”
‘A defeated acceptance’
One day last May, Ms. Craig had spent a lot of time on her feet at a family gathering after a relative’s death. As she settled in for the evening, a family friend dropped off two children she had agreed to babysit, and she braced for the inevitable result of a busy day: pain.
In the past, she would have taken a hydrocodone earlier in the day as a maintenance dose. But she had been seeing Dr. Kassim for more than a year, and although pain continued to gnaw at her, she was starting to buy into his advice. She had paid close attention to Facebook groups and news from medical journals with the latest developments on sickle cell. In her 48th year battling the disease, her perspective was changing.
She had come to realize that no matter how much hydrocodone she took or how well versed her doctor was in the disease, her pain did not disappear — and that the medical consensus had shifted against relying mainly on narcotics.
“It’s like a defeated acceptance,” she said.
In the wee hours of the morning after the family gathering, she began to hurt. Her hips throbbed. She tried to sleep on her left side, then her right. She lay on her back and elevated her feet. Nothing worked.
Still, she held off on the narcotics. Most people with sickle cell remember a crisis when their pain was “at a zillion and you were sitting in that emergency room, waiting for them to call you, and all you wanted to do was pass out,” she said. “We live on that edge of fear.”
She held off until about 11 a.m., when she took a hydrocodone. It provided enough relief to keep her out of the hospital — just the kind of progress Dr. Kassim wanted from her.
He sought to address the underlying triggers of her pain: sickle cell, worn joints, her menstrual cycle, nerve damage and prolonged opioid use. The main thing, he said, was to stabilize her quality of life. That goal motivated her.
But the spread of the coronavirus has interfered with their plan.
Dr. Kassim told Ms. Craig during a visit in February of last year that he wanted her to get an M.R.I. to better understand the underlying causes of her pain. But the pandemic hit, and she was not able to get that imaging until December. It revealed some of the pain triggers that Ms. Craig will have to get under control: a bulging disk in her back, and arthritis in both hips and her left shoulder.
She held off going to physical therapy for fear of catching Covid-19, but is now planning to go since she has been vaccinated. She has tried to tolerate the pain and avoid the hospital, but not always successfully. There were three visits in a week last June and a five-hour wait during a September visit.
Through the past year, she has grown more resolute, trying to raise awareness and support for people with the disease in Knoxville. She had masks made with the words “sickle cell” printed across the front. She has resolved to live with the disease, not suffer from it.
“It’s just my life,” she said. “The one I’ve been dealt.”
Last summer, millions of Americans took to the streets after the killing of George Floyd at the hands of the Minneapolis police, taking part in what would become the largest protest movement in U.S. history. Many participated in marches and demonstrations for the first time in their lives. From eight first-time protesters, here are reflections on what they did last summer, how this has affected them in the year since and what lies ahead. Their interviews have been edited and condensed.
Oluwatoyin Keji Akinmoladun, 23
Last May, Ms. Akinmoladun, who had never attended a protest, decided to organize one. By the end of that weekend, she had led a demonstration of hundreds, shielded herself from pepper spray and been held for several hours in a jail cell.
I understood later on, this does take a toll on you. Like, this isn’t something you can achieve in one day. And you don’t know when the outcome is going to be.
Because if you’re just being angry all the time, like I was, it is completely draining.
I look back on it and just think: We were really united at that time. Like, everyone, all different states, everywhere, we were really united. I still have strong feelings about it, even get anxiety about it. Any protest I plan, I still have anxiety about it. I don’t know, a part of me just wants it to be over with, the protests. I want the protests to be over with, I want our demands to be met. Like, I just want everything to be over with so I don’t have this heavy, heavy feeling.
I have changed my mind on protesting. Now I’m thinking, protesting is not enough. What more can we do? What other steps can we take? Because protesting has been around for so many years? And if it hasn’t changed since Martin Luther King, what can we do now? You know, do we have to — I don’t want to say, destroy the city, but is that what it’s come to?
Berkeley Springs, W.VA.
Brian D. Tucker, 53
Mr. Tucker is one of the few Black people in his small town, a place he has come to love since moving there seven years ago. In September, he was among several dozen people to attend a Black Lives Matter rally there. Hundreds showed up to counterprotest.
Everything that I thought was going to happen didn’t happen. And the things that I didn’t even think of happening happened. They had such a large turnout of people who were for Trump, it almost seemed like it was a Trump rally. And they basically drowned out every speaker we had.
I’ve been told that I’m trying to push an agenda. I don’t do that because I’m not trying to suffocate people. But if you have a different view, we ought to be able to talk about the views and see how it makes it better for everybody.
I can go into a certain establishment and I get the two stares. The stares of, you know, “I don’t like this person,” and then there’s the other stare of like, “What the hell is that?” You know, like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen a Black person. I still speak just as openly with anybody who wants to approach me. Of course, I don’t have Black Lives Matter on my vehicle, I don’t have it tattooed on my arm or put on my clothing. I just don’t want to have to put the cross hairs on my back like that.
I’m here in America. There is no shooting of Black people here in this town. But it’s all around me. The chances of it happening, well, when you only have four Black people, let’s hope it doesn’t happen. But if it does, I don’t think there’s going to be a rally. I don’t think there’ll be a riot. Because this is a small town, it’s going to be swept underneath the rug. It won’t even make the news.
Dawn Dailey, 45
In the early months of the pandemic, Ms. Dailey was working out of a mutual aid tent, packing bags of snacks, water and hand sanitizer to give to homeless people in Seattle’s Cal Anderson Park. But that park became a battleground in early June, as protesters tried to set up an occupied zone and law enforcement cracked down.
I was out there and I wasn’t even protesting. I was just trying to help. There were protests there. And I was Maced in the face. And I feel like that was like one of the turning points for me to make the actionable decisions to be not just, you know, support.
I’m realizing that I can’t just be supportive, but I can help protect the protesters. Because I’m older, because I’m in my 40s. And I’m a mother.
It is not something I would have expected to have happened to me. I mean, I was a Sunday school teacher. I was an Army wife.
We had a protest as a Wall of Moms, with the overall Black Lives Matter protests. They were Macing us. And they were tear-gassing us directly in the face. I had been given a mask for my protection, and a hard hat. My hard hat was knocked off my head because a federal police officer threw a blast ball explosive so hard at my head that it knocked my hard hat off my head. But I still kept on and I was just protesting, locked in arms with other moms, wearing yellow. I was in yoga pants and yellow, for goodness sakes, that’s all I had on.
I totally felt my relationship with government change. I totally felt abused by the system that was there to protect us, and they were abusing us. And I had been part of the system, right?
Tameka Stigers, 40
After Michael Brown was killed in 2014, Ms. Stigers wanted to join the protests in Ferguson, Mo., just a few miles away. But understanding how that might have presented difficulties at work for her husband, a white police officer, she reluctantly stayed away.
Last May, we’re driving back from our little corona-break getaway and hear it on the radio. Then of course, we’re going to the phones and seeing the video like: Are you serious? This is what happened? I knew that I couldn’t stay quiet. I had to get out there and protest. And I told my husband: “You know what? I love you. I respect you. But I can’t sit still.” And he understood.
I had a spark of optimism. “Maybe we’re going to be on the verge of some spread of mass civil disobedience, and we’re going to get to a point where there will be some change.”
My husband came, with my daughter, my sister, we all went and we marched. And it wasn’t until after marching that I’m like, “What change did I effect? What did I really show up to do? What did it mean marching down the street? What did that do?” I can’t say that it did much.
We still have police murders. I don’t know, I’m very conflicted. Part of me, I don’t want people to stop showing up. But I don’t know what it changes. I mean, there are times when people go down to the St. Louis County Jail, and they march. And then they just, just go home. They go home.
I feel like things, they’re getting worse. To truly get some change, I feel like there’s going to be another Civil War.
What are we really doing? What is it that we really want? The things we really want and desire and need, it seems like it’s damn near impossible to have happen. So you just have to figure out how to gain some sort of leverage in your own small little world where you are, and try to effect change there.
Boca Raton, Fla.
Quinton Desamours, 19
A day after attending his first protest last summer, Mr. Desamours took a marker and wrote “BLM” on the face mask he planned to wear to work at a Publix grocery store. A store manager, citing corporate policy against messages on clothing, sent him home. Mr. Desamours tweeted about it and immediately became a national news story.
I was racking my brain all hours of the day trying to figure out, like, “What do I do next?” I thought that if I didn’t do anything, you know, people were going to look at me as some kind of fraud or something. But my mom just continuously told me, “You don’t have to feel this pressure to carry the world on your shoulders.” She was like, “Sometimes you just make a statement, do what you need to do, and sometimes that’s the end of it.” She said, “Throughout history, you know, people build on what others have done.”
Going through something like that, there’s a piece of innocence that gets taken away from you that you can’t ever really get back.
You learn what’s right, and what’s wrong, as a child. But all of a sudden, now, when you get older, it’s like, “Aah, you know, politics. Business.” You’re not allowed to say this, you’re not allowed to do this, you’re not allowed to stand up for this, you’re not allowed to say what you feel, because you’re in this specific setting.
I think that that’s really the moment that I realized, you know, how to play that game in the real world.
You’re never going to beat it playing by your own rules. You have to get in there and get crafty. Not sacrificing your morals or anything like that, of course. But, you know, you just have to know how to play it.
Taylor Huestis, 28
Mr. Huestis, a banker in Nashville, had already begun rethinking parts of the white conservative worldview that had surrounded him in his childhood. But his political conversion accelerated last June after he attended a massive march in Nashville, which was organized by six teenage girls.
I looked around, and I saw people that I recognized, people from high school and college, but then there were a lot of faces that were new to me. But listening to them speak — either in the speeches that they gave or just overhearing conversations in passing — I can tell that they are people who I had a much more extensive foundational agreement with than the people who would have been their counterpart at a Trump rally.
I actually went to the Trump rally when he came and spoke at Municipal Auditorium in, I think, 2015. He was this cartoonish figure, and he was saying these crazy things. But I wanted to see what the turnout would look like.
I definitely knew the people. These are the people I grew up with. These are my neighbors. These are my cousins. These are people I work with, people I went to school with.
I feel like the anger at the Trump rally was very, you know, “white replacement,” “the immigrants are going to come and take our jobs,” “they’re going to change all of the Christian values that you grew up with,” “everything that you know and love in America is going to change and be different.” And at the Black Lives Matter march, it wasn’t so much in anger, but like a righteous fury. Here we are again, virtually nothing’s changed. There’s still disproportionate policing in minority communities, the level of force against minorities is drastically higher.
I think the anger and the vitriol that is there at Trump rallies is just going to get overwhelmed by the youth movement that is coursing through America at the moment. The youth of the country, like these girls who organized this protest, gave me some pretty foundational hope for the future of this country.
Eleaqia McCrae, 20
One evening last May, Ms. McCrae and her sister decided to join a rally in downtown Salem. Two and a half hours after they arrived, the police tried to disperse the crowd, using tear gas and other munitions. Ms. McCrae was hit in the chest and the eye by what she said were rubber bullets, leaving her with lasting vision damage. (In court documents, the city has denied injuring her.)
It was just the worst pain I could ever experience. Despite the emergency room giving me medicine to try to stop the pain. It was unbelievably painful.
I have an appointment on Thursday, so I’m still doing this. It’s a lot of days, a lot of time. The doctor would take pictures of my eye every time and kind of hope that it was going to get better. I had this hole, from the damage and everything. And we’d watched in the picture: the hole, it looks OK, it’s staying the same. And then one week, he saw it getting worse. And then he says, “I don’t want to tell you this, but we are going to have to get surgery.” And I just look at this picture. It’s like this huge rip, a huge hole, everything looks just so out of place.
I literally was empty-handed standing there. And there’s no way to twist it to make it seem like I was a real threat. If that can happen while I’m trying to be there to just witness change then like, what else is there? If something so innocent can be met with such violence, I don’t know what there is to do.
Someone actually said something very beautiful to me. They said, “It’s good that you went because you took someone’s pain that night.” At first I was like, I don’t really know what to say to that. This whole time, I haven’t felt like what happened to me was empowering. I haven’t felt like I made a change. I haven’t felt that way at all. But when he said that, that I took someone’s pain that night, it just was like an eye opener. That was going to happen to someone. It wasn’t anything I did. It wasn’t anything I could have controlled. I was there. I was Black. It was the police.
Suud Olat, 31
A native of Somalia who spent the first 20 years of his life in a Kenyan refugee camp, Mr. Olat came to America in 2012. Three years ago, he became a U.S. citizen. Last year he made an unsuccessful run for Minneapolis City Council. He was in the middle of his campaign when George Floyd was killed.
Huge debate, huge debate in most of the Somali community, especially the elders. They’ve been saying, like: “You never know what will happen. You don’t have to protest. These police are deadly. So do not go to protest.” My mom, my dad, my family members, friends will tell you: “These police use grenades, they have all kinds of equipment that they have when they see the protesters. So do not go.” But I follow my guts and say, “You know, Suud, you can’t run for City Council for Minneapolis and watch videos of people protesting your city. No, no, no, you can’t do that.” Then I go.
I think I went to protests for the entire summer from May, June, July, I think all the way. Going to the governor’s mansion, going to the mayor.
We have our own, you know, problems with the police, too. Many still believe until something significant, something fundamental changes, this thing will continue. That’s what happened in May, this year, when Derek Chauvin was found guilty. That changed some perceptions. Because they think: “OK, this is the first. Maybe it will continue and the police will stop doing these things.”
Some people think, “These people are bringing more harm than good to Minneapolis, instigators are coming from outside Minnesota who are burning and looting those places.” But I believe I was doing the right thing, because protesting is a fundamental right. In some other countries, you cannot even protest. So those are some things that I do not take for granted.
There’s a system if you protest, and if you get arrested, you know, there’s a system that is a judiciary, an independent judiciary. But in other countries, executive, judiciary and legislators — they’re all the same. And you may get jail if you protest. In America, it’s been two years that I’ve been a citizen, and I’m running for office at the same time protesting day and night. And still I’m free.
Every Tuesday and Friday, Lindsay Toczylowski visits the Long Beach Convention Center, where she gathers small groups of children, some as young as 6, for a 45-minute lesson.
She’s not there to teach the ABCs. She’s there to educate them about their legal rights.
Toczylowski is an immigration lawyer. Her students are migrants who crossed the southwestern border without a parent.
Since April, the convention center has been housing children, many of them Central Americans who fled violence and poverty. Transferred there from Border Patrol custody, they remain in Long Beach until their potential guardians, typically family members, submit the paperwork required by the federal government to prove that they are related and that the children will be safe.
During their stay at emergency shelters in Southern California, which can stretch days or weeks, the children participate in music, art and other activities. The goal of Toczylowski’s nonprofit legal-aid group, Immigrant Defenders Law Center, is to educate rather than entertain them.
were still seeking the motive of a gunman who shot and killed nine co-workers at a rail yard in San Jose. The gunman had semiautomatic handguns and nearly three dozen high-capacity magazines. In 2016, he was stopped by border officials, who searched his bags and found writings about how he hated his workplace.
Here’s what we know about the victims.
The Gun Violence Archive, which defines a mass shooting as one with four or more people injured or killed, not including the perpetrator, has counted at least 232 mass shootings so far this year.
Gov. Gavin Newsom announced a lottery for vaccinated Californians that will give 10 residents a $1.5 million prize.
The Biden administration said it planned to revise a Trump-era rule that limited the ability of states and tribes to veto energy projects that could pollute their local waterways.
As the drought worsens, The Sacramento Bee took a look at what lies ahead for farmers, cities and residents.
With regulations changing by the week, the Hollywood Bowl went from planning a modest reopening to weighing vaccine requirements to planning to return at full capacity for its 18,000 seats.
An investigation by KPCC found that nursing homes in California can continue to operate even after they’ve been denied a license by the state.
Californians will vote in 2022 on whether to allow sports betting at tribal casinos and horse-racing tracks, The Los Angeles Times reports.
Despite pioneering consumer-data privacy protections, the California Legislature seems less excited about regulating social media companies, according to CalMatters.
KTLA reports that more than 123,000 stimulus checks from Californians have yet to be cashed, the highest number in the U.S.
The Wall Street Journal has the story of a real life “Schitt’s Creek.” The owner of Nipton, an 80-acre city in the Mojave Desert, is trying to sell the property for $2.75 million.
The 2022 Oscars have been delayed by one month, The Los Angeles Times reports.
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California has some of the most progressive gun laws in the country and is one of two states to receive a full A rating from the Giffords Law Center, which advocates for gun reform. The state requires universal background checks for gun owners and restrictions on the size of magazines, along with other laws that restrict the types of firearms that a person can legally purchase.
But after a mass shooting on Wednesday that claimed nine lives at a San Jose rail yard, politicians including Gov. Gavin Newsom and President Biden urged lawmakers to take further action in legislating firearms. In a statement, Mr. Biden urged Congress to “heed the call of the American people, including the vast majority of gun owners, to help end this epidemic of gun violence.”
It is unclear what type of weapons were used by the gunman, whose body was found at the scene, where he had acquired them, or whether they would have met California’s legal standards. The state bans the possession of assault weapons, with some exceptions, and bans so-called ghost guns, which are typically assembled by an individual and do not contain a serial number.
According to the Giffords Law Center, which also gives an A rating to New Jersey, California has the seventh-lowest rate of gun deaths in the country, and has the most robust system for taking guns from people who are barred from having them.
At least one person was killed when a helicopter crashed near a Florida airport on Tuesday, the authorities said. The three others who were onboard remained unaccounted for as of Wednesday morning.
A Sikorsky UH-60 firefighting helicopter, also known as a Black Hawk, crashed into a marsh near Leesburg International Airport during a training exercise at about 4 p.m., the Federal Aviation Administration said in a statement.
Leesburg is about 40 miles northwest of Orlando.
The crash appeared to be a total loss, and no survivors have been found, according the Leesburg Fire Department, which responded to the scene along with the Leesburg Police Department.
One death was confirmed, the Fire Department said, and crews were on the scene “mitigating the emergency and searching for survivors.”
told Fox 35 Orlando.
The United States Forest Service plowed a line around the crash to prevent any vegetation fires, the fire department said.
The F.A.A. and the National Transportation Safety Board were to begin investigating the crash on Wednesday, officials said.
when their chopper crashed near a glacier in Alaska. In February, three Idaho Army National Guard pilots were killed when their helicopter crashed in bad weather during a routine training mission. About two weeks earlier, a New York Army National Guard Black Hawk helicopter on a routine training mission crashed in a rural area south of Rochester, New York, killing three Guard members.
WASHINGTON — Senator John W. Warner of Virginia, the genteel former Navy secretary who shed the image of a dilettante to become a leading Republican voice on military policy during 30 years in the Senate, died on Tuesday night. He was 94.
He died at his home in Alexandria, Va., of heart failure, according to an email from Susan Magill, a former chief of staff.
Mr. Warner may have for a time been best known nationally as the dashing sixth husband of the actress Elizabeth Taylor. Her celebrity was a draw on the campaign trail during his difficult first race for the Senate in 1978, an election he won narrowly to start his political career. The couple divorced in 1982.
In the latter stages of his congressional service, Mr. Warner was also recognized as a protector of the Senate’s traditions and was credited with trying to forge bipartisan consensus on knotty issues such as the Iraq war, judicial nominations and the treatment of terror detainees.
persistent backing of the assault weapons ban and infuriated some state Republicans in 1994 when he refused to support Oliver L. North, the former White House aide at the center of the Iran-contra scandal, in his bid for the Senate. And he opposed the Supreme Court nomination of Judge Robert H. Bork.
But his support within the party mainstream, coupled with backing from independents attracted by his moderate views on social issues such as abortion and gay rights, allowed him to fend off challenges from both the right and left. He won election to his fifth and final term in 2002 against only token opposition.
Mr. Warner announced in August 2007 that he would not run in 2008, noting that he would be 88 if he finished his term and telling friends that he questioned whether he would have the energy for the demanding job. His death was reported Wednesday by Politico.
A Kentucky prosecutor said on Tuesday that he would not pursue criminal charges against National Guard members involved in a shooting that killed the popular owner of a Louisville barbecue stand last June as officials sought to enforce a curfew imposed after protests against police violence.
Thomas B. Wine, the Jefferson County commonwealth’s attorney, said in a statement that the two Louisville Metro Police Department officers and two Kentucky National Guard members were justified in firing a total of 19 shots during the encounter because they were responding to gunfire from the victim, David McAtee.
Mr. McAtee had fired two rounds after a Louisville police officer fired “several” pepper balls where the victim’s niece was standing, at the entrance to his shop, YaYa’s BBQ, Mr. Wine said.
Mr. McAtee was struck once in the chest and died moments later. Bullet fragments recovered from his body were determined to have been fired by one of the two National Guard members, but it was unclear which one, Mr. Wine said.
The Associated Press. “Cops are summarily exonerated without any proof ever being presented. Does anyone really doubt why it continues to happen?”
Federal authorities are investigating the case.
Mr. Wine announced his decision on the anniversary of the killing of George Floyd, a Black man who died after a white Minnesota police officer knelt on his neck for more than nine minutes. A bystander’s video of Mr. Floyd’s killing touched off protests throughout the country, including in Louisville, which was already shaken by the killing of Breonna Taylor in a no-knock police raid.
A spokesman for Mr. Wine declined to comment Tuesday night when asked about the timing of the announcement.
In his statement, Mr. Wine described the brief, confusing and fatal moments around midnight on May 31, when the police and National Guard members descended on the predominantly Black West End neighborhood to enforce Louisville’s new curfew.
The New York Times. Another pepper ball, it said, came close to hitting Mr. McAtee’s niece in the head.
Soon after, Mr. McAtee fired a shot from the doorway of YaYa’s. Then a second shot.
Mr. Wine said those two shots led the officers and National Guard members to open fire.
“After McAtee’s first shot, members of LMPD switched from non-lethal weapons such as pepper ball guns to service weapons and the National Guard soldiers armed their M-4 rifles,” Mr. Wine said. After Mr. McAtee’s second shot, he said, they returned fire.
Marvin McAtee, Mr. McAtee’s nephew, said he helped run the barbecue restaurant with his uncle, who lived in the building’s basement. Marvin McAtee said he was in the restaurant that night but did not see his uncle shoot.
“There’s no way he had a clear vision of the police from there,” he said of his uncle. “He had no intention of shooting at no police.”
According to Mr. Wine, Officer Crews fired eight shots; Officer Austin Allen fired one; the National Guard soldier Andrew Kroszkewicz fired four shots; and Staff Sgt. Matthew Roark of the National Guard fired six times.
Evidence of the shooting included surveillance video from inside YaYa’s, Mr. Wine said. He said that Officer Crews and Officer Allen had not activated their body cameras.
A laboratory analyzed four fragments from the bullet that struck Mr. McAtee in the chest and determined it “could have been fired from either of the Kentucky National Guard’s Colt rifles.” But the fragments were “too damaged” to identify which National Guard member fired the shot, Mr. Wine said.
Headlines refer to them as the “doomsday couple,” a pair who have drawn international attention for their so-called apocalyptic religious beliefs and the recurring demises of their immediate family members under questionable circumstances.
The Lifetime television network even made a movie about them.
On Tuesday, prosecutors in Idaho announced that the husband and wife, Chad Daybell and Lori Vallow, had been charged with two counts of first-degree murder in the deaths of two of Ms. Vallow’s children. Mr. Daybell was also charged with first-degree murder in the death of his previous spouse, a case that received renewed attention after the disappearance of Ms. Vallow’s children.
The couple, who were indicted by a grand jury in Fremont County, Idaho, on Monday, could face the death penalty, prosecutors said.
“Members of the grand jury deliberated and determined there is probable cause to believe the Daybells willfully and knowingly conspired to commit several crimes that led to the death of three innocent people,” Lindsey Blake, the Fremont County prosecutor, said at a news conference.
Tammy Daybell, 49, was found dead in October 2019 in her home in Idaho. Her death was initially attributed to natural causes, but the authorities ordered that her remains be exhumed, suspecting that her death might have been connected to Ms. Vallow’s missing children.
According to the indictment, Mr. Daybell and Ms. Vallow said in a text message exchange that Ms. Daybell had been in “limbo” and was “being possessed by a spirit named Viola.” Mr. Daybell had increased the amount of coverage in a life insurance policy for Ms. Daybell in September 2019, a little more than a month before her death.
Mr. Daybell, 52, and Ms. Vallow, 47, married shortly after their previous spouses had died.
A lawyer for Mr. Daybell did not immediately respond to requests for comment on Tuesday.
arrested in Hawaii on charges that included two felony counts of desertion and nonsupport of dependent children. Mr. Daybell was arrested last June on felony charges related to the disappearance of his stepchildren. He and Ms. Vallow have pleaded not guilty to those earlier charges.
obtained by the Phoenix television station Fox 10, Ms. Vallow’s previous husband said that she had told him that she believed she was “receiving spiritual revelations and visions to help her gather and prepare those chosen to live in the New Jerusalem after the Great War as prophesied in the Book of Revelations.”
Both Mr. Daybell and Ms. Vallow have been linked to an entity called Preparing People, which aims to help prepare people for the Second Coming of Jesus Christ, according to its website.
In addition to the murder charges, Mr. Daybell and Ms. Vallow were charged with two counts of conspiracy to commit first-degree murder and grand theft by deception in connection with the children’s deaths, and one count of conspiracy to commit first-degree murder that stemmed from Ms. Daybell’s death.
news release last month, Lifetime announced that Ms. Vallow would be portrayed in a movie called “Doomsday Mom: The Lori Vallow Story” that is scheduled to be broadcast on June 26.
A spokeswoman for Lifetime said in an email on Tuesday night that the movie would still be broadcast and that the producers had been closely monitoring the developments in the case. An update will appear at the end of the movie, she said.
new video loaded: Protesters Gather in Brooklyn to Rally for Changes to Policing
Protesters Gather in Brooklyn to Rally for Changes to Policing
Protesters marched in Brooklyn on Tuesday to commemorate George Floyd, who was killed in police custody one year ago, and to build momentum for changes and accountability in policing.
“I’m not only here for the one-year anniversary of George Floyd, I’m here for the hundreds and thousands of other people who have also been killed by racist police. How I’m feeling right now is that things need to change and we need to defund the police.” “This is emotional, this is a real emotional moment for us, because, you know, how many more times you have to keep getting together about this? How many times you have to keep begging the police to just treat us like people? How many times do we have to keep fighting for things that are just basic human rights to be able to live in this country?”