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INTERLOCHEN, Mich. — A Michigan summer arts camp and boarding school where Jeffrey Epstein has been accused of meeting at least two of his victims will tear down a lodge that once bore his name.

The Interlochen Center for the Arts said this week that its board of trustees has approved a plan to demolish the Green Lake Lodge, which had been known as Jeffrey E. Epstein Scholarship Lodge until the school cut ties and scrubbed references to the late millionaire sex offender after his first conviction in 2008.

Epstein attended the Interlochen Arts Camp in 1967 as a teenager, and donated more than $400,000 to the school between 1990 to 2003, including $200,000 for the construction of the lodge.

“The lodge has, over time, come to carry associations that are not reflective of who we are as an institution or the values we strive to uphold,” Interlochen said in a statement. “After careful consideration, the Board determined that removing this structure in a safe and timely manner is the right step for Interlochen at this time.”

A world-renowned destination for young artists, actors and musicians, Interlochen’s alumni include Grammy winners Chappell Roan and Norah Jones and Oscar winner Da’Vine Joy Randolph.

At least two of Epstein’s accusers have said they met him at Interlochen in the 1990s.

The school said it was aware of news reports about the women’s claims and said it has invited them to speak with an independent investigator as part of an external investigation into reports of historical misconduct at Interlochen.

A pair of internal reviews, most recently after Epstein’s sex trafficking arrest in 2019, found no reports of misconduct at Interlochen involving Epstein in its records, the school said.

Epstein visited Interlochen periodically, often with his confidante and former girlfriend Ghislaine Maxwell, and stayed in the lodge now marked for demolition.

According to correspondence included in the Justice Department’s recent release of Epstein-related records, he directed that tuition for at least one student be paid out of his donations and once flew violinist Itzhak Perlman to the school on his private jet.

Epstein killed himself in a federal jail in Manhattan in August 2019, a month after being indicted on federal sex trafficking charges. In 2008 and 2009, he served jail time in Florida after pleading guilty to soliciting prostitution from someone under the age of 18.

Maxwell was convicted in 2021 of sex trafficking for helping to recruit some of Epstein’s underage victims, and is serving a 20-year prison sentence.

WASHINGTON — A Justice Department indictment against the Southern Poverty Law Center is part of a “top-down” campaign of retribution against President Trump’s perceived political enemies and constitutes a vindictive prosecution that must be dismissed, lawyers for the nonprofit argued Tuesday in urging a judge to toss out the case.

The Alabama-based nonprofit was indicted in April on fraud and money laundering charges that accuse it of misleading donors by paying informants inside white supremacist and other extremist organizations to obtain inside information about their activities.

Lawyers for the SPLC already argued that law enforcement agencies have long known that the nonprofit paid informants to report on the movements of hate groups. They also said acting Atty. Gen. Todd Blanche made a false statement at a news conference and in interviews when he said the organization had not shared with law enforcement information it learned from informants. Blanche later appeared to walk back that claim in a television interview, saying it was true that the SPLC “selectively” shared information with law enforcement over the years.

The attorneys for the center expanded on those arguments Tuesday, saying in a motion to dismiss the case that the prosecution was the “culmination of a top-down, retributive campaign” in which Trump pushed the Justice Department “to go after those individuals and groups he deemed his political enemies, including the SPLC.”

Defense says indictment fits broader retaliation campaign

The motion was filed against the backdrop of other politically charged prosecutions that have raised concerns that the Justice Department is operating as a weapon to target Trump’s opponents. It aims to draw a parallel between the SPLC indictment and the human smuggling prosecution of Kilmar Abrego Garcia, which was dismissed Friday on similar vindictive prosecution grounds by a judge who called the case an “abuse of prosecuting power.”

The SPLC has said its now-defunct program of paying informants to infiltrate hate groups was developed to glean key insights into their activities so that potential victims could be protected. An earlier federal investigation into the practice was closed without charges, but the motion paints the current Justice Department as pursuing the case with renewed — and rushed — vigor.

The department decided to pursue the indictment without interviewing any current SPLC employees and did not seek any documents from the group until after it told defense lawyers that criminal charges were coming, the defense motion states. During a meeting requested by defense lawyers who hoped to avert to indictment, Justice Department officials informed them that the decision already had been made to pursue charges, according to the motion.

“These procedural irregularities show that the charges against the SPLC were a foregone conclusion based on prosecutorial vindictiveness — driven by the White House and FBI leadership’s retribution campaign — rather than the result of a good faith examination of the evidence,” the motion states, saying the indictment was “premised on conclusory accusations but devoid of provable facts or a proper statement of the law.”

The motion also cites whistleblower accounts that accused top Justice Department officials of rushing forward with an indictment despite internal concerns about the merits of the case and the strength of the evidence.

“For weeks, we have been arguing against these false allegations levied against the SPLC — an organization that for 55 years has stood as a beacon of hope fighting white supremacy and various forms of injustice to create a multiracial democracy where we can all live and thrive,” Bryan Fair, the interim president and chief executive officer of SPLC, said in a statement. “The government can’t prosecute the SPLC as payback for its protected speech — it violates basic constitutional rights.”

The administration has painted SPLC as partisan

Founded in 1971 as a civil rights organization, the SPLC over the decades has used litigation to fight white supremacist groups. It also tracks the activities and locations of domestic extremists. But its work has made it a popular target among Republicans who see it as overly leftist and partisan.

The center, for instance, received fresh attention last year after the assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk because the SPLC had included a section on the group that Kirk founded and led, Turning Point USA, in a report titled “The Year in Hate and Extremism 2024.”

FBI Director Kash Patel announced in October that the bureau would be severing its relationship with the SPLC, saying it had turned into a “partisan smear machine,” and he accused it of defaming “mainstream Americans” with its “hate map” that documents alleged antigovernment and hate groups inside the United States.

The defense motion says “animus” from senior levels of the administration helped shape the indictment.

It cites, among other comments, a statement from Trump deriding the SPLC as “a total scam run by the Democrats,” as well as a news media interview in which Harmeet Dhillon, the Justice Department’s top civil rights official, said the indictment was “personal” to her because she had “a lot of journalist friends … and groups that I’ve represented who have been targeted by the Southern Poverty Law Center.”

Tucker writes for the Associated Press.

In the trunk of his battered 10-year-old Ford sedan, Larry Gross stores half a dozen scarred yellow folding chairs. The chairs, strewn among volleyballs, softball equipment and long-discarded papers, are essential equipment for a man who spends much of his life arranging and attending meetings.

Gross is a professional organizer, a man whose career is measured in meetings. He sets up his chairs everywhere in the tiny city of West Hollywood, in the dingy church office where he works, in the clean, well-lighted offices of City Hall, in cramped apartment common rooms and in sparsely furnished election headquarters.

What he accomplishes at those meetings often has immediate impact on the fortunes of the 16-month-old city. With the aid of a small band of young leftist activists and a loyal army of elderly Jewish tenants, Gross has built a potent grass-roots version of a political machine and become the city’s most commanding power broker.

Formidable Power Bloc

In the process, his Coalition for Economic Survival has transformed itself from a Los Angeles-based fringe pressure group with limited successes in rent control and street demonstrations into West Hollywood’s most formidable power bloc. No other organized group in the city wields as much influence or inflames as much controversy.

The coalition and its supporters have elected two of the city’s five council members–both of whom face reelection on April 8–and are priming for a third. Some of its volunteer members have wangled key appointments to the city’s commissions. Others have been hired in policy-making posts in the city’s fledgling bureaucracy.

“West Hollywood is (the coalition’s) oil gusher,” said Ron Stone, who led the city’s incorporation movement. “They’ve dug holes all over Los Angeles, but they never struck deep until they came to West Hollywood. They worked hard here and they deserve the rewards.”

The coalition’s primacy has alienated many of those who are accustomed to holding power. Landlords are roused to fury by the mere mention of Larry Gross’ name. Businessmen worry that the coalition’s continuing dominance will cost them profits. Rival politicians are jealous of the group’s clout. Even some council members seethe privately at the coalition’s refusal to compromise on minor political issues.

“CES is run by a very small group of people,” said Tony Melia, an insurance man who chairs a faction of moderate businessmen challenging the coalition for political supremacy in the April election. “They are a mystery to us all.”

Grist for Criticism

Nearly every move that the 34-year-old Gross makes as director of his coalition becomes instant grist for criticism: Passing folded notes to Mayor John Heilman and Councilwoman Helen Albert (both coalition members), Gross is accused of controlling their votes. Taping a flag over his office desk, he is branded a Communist (Gross described the flag, which has been taken down, as a United Farm Workers banner; his enemies say it was a hammer and sickle). Shaving his wispy beard and wearing suits instead of flannel shirts, he is said to be cleaning up his act for public consumption.

“People set me up as the enemy all the time,” Gross said. “They do it out of fear and envy. They really don’t have the foggiest notion of what CES is all about.”

Gross’ Hold on Coalition

Their obsession with Gross is hardly unwarranted. About 13 years after he founded the coalition with a group of peace activists and leftist leaders, Gross is the only original member left. Organizers and volunteers have come and gone, leaving because of “activist burnout,” because they needed a better-paying job or because of personal or philosophical conflicts. But Gross remains.

Although ostensibly a democratic organization, the coalition has remained securely in Gross’ control. His partisans say he is central to CES because of his natural leadership abilities; former members and enemies attribute his endurance to Machiavellian political cunning. But in the end, many who have watched Gross say he remains in control of the coalition because he simply is the coalition.

“Our success all trickles down from Larry,” said Jacqueline Balogh, the coalition’s membership director. “Without him, CES wouldn’t exist.”

Gross is a lean, fox-faced man who has a closet athlete’s fascination with competitive sports and a weakness for interrupting his organizing activities to attend Dodger and Laker home games.

He tries to keep his private life shielded from public scrutiny. “I don’t like the focus on me,” he said in a recent interview. “It’s the organization and what it has accomplished that’s important.”

Friends and former acquaintances say Gross lives in a sparsely furnished rented duplex in Echo Park. Five years ago, he made barely $500 a month at his job. These days, he makes more, but declines to reveal a figure. He still drives his decade-old Ford despite its growing list of automotive maladies.

His voice bears traces of a Queens accent that becomes thicker when he excitedly addresses crowds. “The landlords are trying to say rent control is not an issue in dis campaign!” he roared to an enthusiastic hall filled with senior citizens early this month. “The reason is dey don’t stand for strong rent control!”

Odd Man Out

The accent is one of the few facets of Gross’ activist life style that he has not polished. His is a career that began at Forest Hills High School in New York, where Gross found himself odd man out among fellow students in the late 1960s. “I was the only radical on campus,” he said.

He is the son of divorced parents. His father, a trade school teacher, lives in Miami; his mother, a volunteer with the Simon Wiesenthal Center, lives in Los Angeles, not far from West Hollywood. Both were influences on his burgeoning activism, his father as an active union member, his mother as a Holocaust survivor.

“What she went through outraged me whenever I thought about it,” Gross said.

Often joining older college students in peace marches at Central Park and other anti-Vietnam War activities, Gross graduated from high school with few prospects. He took a job as a clothing store salesman, but in 1972, came to Los Angeles to visit his mother, who had moved here.

Extending his stay by taking political science classes at Los Angeles City College, he became active in local efforts to drum up support for the impeachment of President Richard Nixon. Drifting between activist groups, Gross in 1973 became involved in new union of peace and civil rights organizations which was protesting Nixon’s cuts in social service budgets.

The umbrella group became the Coalition for Economic Survival. “They had a little flat on Vermont Avenue with a small file cabinet in the back,” said Rosa Factor, an early coalition volunteer. “It was real small-scale. Larry was a lot different in those days. His hair was long and frizzy, hippie-style.”

Strong Points

The group’s forte was picket line protest and street theater. Demonstrating against high milk prices in 1974, coalition organizers toured inner-city shopping centers, urging a boycott. Gross and his fellow activists spoke from the back of a pickup truck, where they mounted a purple papier-mache cow named “C. Brunel Cow” after then-state Agriculture Secretary C. Brunel Christensen. At a later demonstration, protesting a Pico-Union expansion of a Pep Boys warehouse complex, Gross and his followers marched to the chant: “Manny, Moe and Jack! We want our buildings back!”

At first preoccupied with consumer issues such as rising bus fares and utility costs, the coalition managed to win favorable coverage in newspaper and television reports. They had little influence, however, on the commissions which made the decisions.

Skyrocketing rents that accompanied Los Angeles’ real estate speculation fever in the late 1970s gave the coalition a ready-made issue. “We cut our teeth on rent control,” said Norman Chramoff, a former coalition member who now works in West Hollywood’s rent control administration. “That’s when CES membership grew and grew.”

The new members were senior citizens, outraged that their rents were doubling and tripling, often in the span of a year. After learning to live on fixed incomes, many elderly tenants became afraid that they would be evicted from apartments where they had lived for years.

Remembering the horrors of the Depression, many seniors feared a return to poverty. “Anybody who lived through the Depression can’t imagine how scared we were,” said Martha Newman, a woman in her 60s who is an ardent coalition supporter. “CES saved us from that.”

Limited Victories

The coalition promised relief from the surging apartment rental rates. In a series of political confrontations with landlords, the coalition won limited victories. Although it did not get the strong rent protections it wanted, the coalition did help push a moderate rent control law (4% annual rent increase) through the Los Angeles City Council. In Los Angeles County, the coalition pressured supervisors, but was only able to help pass an even weaker rent law in 1979 (7% annual increase).

In November, 1983, a coalition-sponsored referendum failed to persuade county voters to adopt a tougher rent control law. Because of overwhelming support among senior renters, the referendum did well in West Hollywood–passing there by a 5-1 ratio–but it was not enough to keep rent control alive. That vote, which led to the expiration of county rent control in 1985, set the stage for West Hollywood’s incorporation battle.

By that time, the coalition had made deep inroads into the city’s elderly community (estimated at 40% of the area’s population). Those inroads proved crucial in the 1984 incorporation election.

Gross estimates that 2,000 of the coalition’s 5,000 members are in West Hollywood. Political observers of all stripes in West Hollywood agree that in an election year campaign, the coalition can command upwards of 2,000 votes–a significant block among West Hollywood’s 19,000 registered voters.

“West Hollywood is sort of our flagship,” Gross said. “We have a tremendous opportunity here.”

The city’s elderly tenants also provide the coalition with much of its financial support. At coalition meetings, organizers pass around empty fried chicken buckets, which are often returned brimming with cash and checks.

Several allegations of discrepancies in the coalition’s finances were reported to county officials last year. But Candace Beason, a prosecutor in the county district attorney’s investigative division, said her department has declined to investigate them. “They were relatively minor complaints,” she said last week. “The case is closed.”

Since its incorporation victory in November, 1984–in which two coalition members, Heilman and Albert, were elected to the council and the coalition aided the election victories of council members Alan Viterbi and Valerie Terrigno–the coalition has worked to consolidate its power.

New Headquarters

Late last year, the group moved its headquarters from a cluttered office on Pico Boulevard in Los Angeles to a cluttered office in the Crescent Heights Methodist Church in West Hollywood. Working at night, amid old metal desks and boxes sagging with files, coalition organizers quickly felt at home in the new city.

But, as with nearly everything they do, coalition organizers found themselves under attack, this time just for moving into West Hollywood. Landlords, Republicans and businessmen tried to pressure church leaders and city officials to evict them but the CES has stayed put.

The coalition–and Gross, in particular–are under constant fire. During the 1984 incorporation election, he was branded a Communist by Jewish Defense League activist Irv Rubin. Rubin claimed then–and maintains today–that he has “inside information” proving that Gross visited Cuba as a guest of Fidel Castro.

Gross labels the charges “the ravings of the far right.” Despite continued whisperings about “hidden agendas,” landlords and other political enemies of the coalition have never proved their claims.

But at least half a dozen former coalition members say they were invited by some coalition organizers to attend Marxist study meetings and similar functions. One former member, Mark Siegel, who is now chief deputy to Los Angeles Councilman Joel Wachs, said that he was asked several times to join a Marxist study group. He declined.

“The thing is, (CES) was such a loose group,” Siegel said. “There were all kinds of philosophies floating around there. We certainly weren’t being directed from Moscow.”

Both Gross and Heilman also admit that some members have been philosophical Marxists. “But we have Republicans among our steering committee people, too,” Gross said. “We even have one person who sells Amway products. Should we throw them out for that? I don’t think it really matters.”

‘I’m Scared’

“Of course it matters,” argues Tony Melia, who heads West Hollywood for Good Government, the group opposing the coalition in the April elections. “We want officials who choose for us, without any hidden agendas. If the rumors I hear are true, then I’m scared.”

Gross and his followers have also been portrayed as dogmatic and unwilling to take part in the compromises that are the basic components of small-town politics. “That is my one real gripe with them,” said Councilman Stephen Schulte. “There’s no middle ground to them.”

To that criticism, Heilman responds: “I don’t call that being dogmatic,” he said. “We stand for certain principles. Why should we deviate from them?”

Arguments over covert Marxism and political rigidity, however, mask the nature of the real power struggle in West Hollywood. Perceived as the most influential organization in the city, the coalition’s apparent clout is envied by groups that have had less sway with the City Council.

“At least until this election is over, they (the coalition) have the appearance of the most-organized political entity in town,” Schulte said. “One doesn’t confront them lightly.”

Those who do can expect to become enemies. When Melia unveiled his Good Government group earlier this year, he portrayed it as a rival of the coalition for political clout in West Hollywood. Gross immediately branded the group as a “front for the landlords.”

While it is indeed probable that the landlords would prefer victories by Good Government candidates in the April election, Gross immediately set into motion “an us-versus-them situation,” according to community activist Bob Conrich.

Black and White

“They have no gray areas,” Conrich said. “Larry’s convincing his elderly constituency that the landlords are waiting behind every corner to gouge them. It’s an effective political tactic, but it’s dishonest and it sets this city up for the same situation in every election. Larry will set someone up as a tool of the landlords and then try to knock them down.”

Such was the case earlier this month, when coalition organizers filled a hall at Plummer Park with senior citizens and raised the threat that the city’s rent control ordinance was in danger. “This election is going to be a big battle,” Gross said. “They have the money. They had it last time. But we have the people.”

It has been harder for the coalition to bring out their people when the heat of an election has cooled. During last year’s rent control battle, landlords far outnumbered tenants at public hearings on the proposed law.

Still, in rent control votes and in pressing for an affordable housing policy with the city’s interim growth ordinance, the coalition lived up to its reputation. On other votes, though, without obvious backing of its elderly constituents, the coalition has found itself sometimes limited in its influence over council decisions.

That became embarrassingly obvious to coalition organizers when the council refused to exact concessions from the Pacific Design Center in return for a planned major expansion. Heilman and Albert, backed by coalition lobbyists, pushed for fees that would have paid for a day-care center and provided seed money for a community development corporation. But in the end, the two council members gave up their fight.

Close Votes

The coalition has even had trouble getting some of its members appointed to city commissions. In close votes in recent months, the coalition’s candidates for posts on the city’s Transportation and Human Services commissions were defeated and the coalition even was unable to prevent landlord leader Grafton Tanquary from winning a spot on the Affordable Housing Task Force.

Schulte, Melia and a number of other political observers say such defeats indicate a lessening of the coalition’s clout. “I don’t think they loom as high on the horizon as they did six months ago,” Schulte said. “They haven’t kept up the pressure.”

But Gross and other coalition members say those defeats were minor ones, offset by gains achieved in a less obvious area–political organizing among the city’s 89% tenant population. The coalition is trying to win more allies among the apartment dwellers for future elections.

In recent months, Gross and his fellow organizers have shown up weekly at apartment buildings scattered throughout West Hollywood for “house meetings,” small receptions where they explain the new rent control law to tenants and answer questions about other concerns.

Last month, Gross showed up at one building to explain the details of the city’s new rent law to six tenants. As a radio faintly played “The Poet and Peasant Overture,” Gross set up his folding chairs and waited for his small audience to arrive.

The meeting lasted just over an hour. The conversation did not get beyond the level of after-dinner chat. But in the eyes of many West Hollywood political observers, the coalition’s dependence on such seemingly insignificant meetings may provide the key to its future influence.

“They do the groundwork that no one else in West Hollywood is willing to do,” said Councilman Viterbi. “They’re out there all the time, making new contacts, renewing old ones. No one else in this city has the patience or the manpower to do that. As long as they keep it up, they’ll be a force to reckon with.”

Comments on the Coalition

Incorporation leader Ron Stone: “West Hollywood is (CES’) oil gusher.”

Rival coalition leader Tony Melia: “CES is run by a very small group of people. They are a mystery to us all.”

Councilman Stephen Schulte: “At least until this election is over, they (CES) have the appearance of the most-organized political entity in town. One doesn’t confront them lightly.”

Councilman Alan Viterbi: “They do the groundwork that no one else in West Hollywood is willing to do.”

May 22 (Asia Today) — LS Electric Chairman Koo Ja-kyun called for stronger quality and delivery competitiveness as the South Korean company seeks to expand in the North American data center power infrastructure market.

Koo recently visited LS Electric’s Cheongju plant, a key production base for power equipment used in North American data centers, the company said Friday.

During the visit, Koo inspected switchgear production lines, the smart factory system and high-voltage circuit breaker lines.

“The U.S.-centered data center market does not allow even the slightest error in next-generation power grid fields such as direct current distribution,” Koo said. “Top-level high-end quality and flawless delivery capability are essential.”

He said the company should go beyond merely meeting customer standards.

“We must secure competitiveness strong enough to overwhelm global partners based on our smart manufacturing capabilities,” Koo said.

Industry officials say the expansion of artificial intelligence data centers has pushed the power infrastructure market into a “power supercycle,” driving demand for high-end power solutions such as high-voltage distribution equipment and circuit breakers.

Koo also called for early investment and technological innovation.

“The global power market is facing a major transition,” he said. “If we remain complacent, we will fall behind. Bold innovation that breaks through limits is necessary.”

— Reported by Asia Today; translated by UPI

© Asia Today. Unauthorized reproduction or redistribution prohibited.

Original Korean report: https://www.asiatoday.co.kr/kn/view.php?key=20260522010006606

MINNEAPOLIS — A judge on Thursday handed down an extraordinary prison sentence — nearly 42 years — to the former leader of a Minnesota nonprofit who was convicted in a staggering $250-million fraud case that helped ignite an immigration crackdown by the Trump administration.

Aimee Bock ran Feeding Our Future, which had claimed it helped provide millions of meals to children in need during the pandemic. The U.S. Justice Department, however, said she was atop the “single largest COVID-19 fraud scheme in the country.”

“I understand I failed. I failed the public, my family, everyone,” Bock said in federal court.

President Trump used the fraud cases against Bock and many others to initially justify a massive surge of federal officers to the Minneapolis-St. Paul area last winter, leading to a pushback by residents and the deaths of two people.

“Feeding Our Future operated like a cash pipeline, open to anyone willing to submit fraudulent claims and pay kickbacks,” prosecutors said in a court filing.

Bock had long proclaimed her innocence but was convicted last year of conspiracy, fraud and bribery.

“This case has changed our state forever,” Joe Thompson, formerly the lead prosecutor in the case, said outside the courtroom. “Aimee Bock did everything she could to earn this long sentence.”

The nonprofit sat atop a fraud network that included a web of partner organizations, phony distribution sites, kickbacks and fake lists of children supposedly being fed, prosecutors say. Dozens of people, many from the state’s large Somali community, have been convicted in a series of overlapping food fraud cases that have spent years in the courts.

Bock and co-conspirators enriched themselves with international travel, real estate purchases, luxury vehicles and other lavish spending, the government said.

Bock’s lawyer, Kenneth Udoibok, argued for no more than three years in prison, saying she had provided key information to investigators. He argued that Bock had been unfairly painted as the mastermind and insisted that two co-defendants were responsible for running the scams.

Meanwhile, authorities this week filed additional charges against others in a sprawling investigation into federal social service spending in Minnesota.

The targets include Fahima Mahamud, who was CEO of Future Leaders Early Learning Center, a childcare center in Minneapolis. Over three years, Mahamud’s organization was reimbursed approximately $4.6 million for services on behalf of people who didn’t make a required copayment, prosecutors allege.

A message seeking comment from her lawyer was not immediately returned Thursday. Mahamud was charged separately in February with fraud related to meals. She has pleaded not guilty.

Two other people were charged with conspiring to get $975,000 in Medicaid subsidies for housing services that were not provided. They’re expected to plead guilty in June, according to a court filing.

Two additional people were accused of receiving $21.1 million by billing Medicaid for autism therapy that was either unnecessary or not provided. Investigators said the two paid families as much as $1,500 per child per month to add their names to the program and get reimbursement.

Trump, who has long derided Somalis, last year blasted the state as “a hub of fraudulent money laundering activity.” He also criticized the leadership of Gov. Tim Walz, the Democrats’ vice presidential nominee in the 2024 election.

“Somali gangs are terrorizing the people of that great State, and BILLIONS of Dollars are missing. Send them back to where they came from,” Trump wrote on social media.

Bock is white and the U.S. Attorney’s Office says the overwhelming majority of defendants in the cases are of Somali descent. Most are U.S. citizens.

The immigration surge led to repeated protests and confrontations between residents and federal officers and resulted in the killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti.

Sullivan writes for the Associated Press.

NEW YORK — A federal immigration court in Lower Manhattan has come to represent the Trump administration’s deportation campaign in New York City, with agents carrying out chaotic and sometimes violent arrests in the hallway as migrants leave hearings.

Now the court is serving as a front in a different kind of battle: one of the city’s most closely watched congressional races.

In the Democratic primary between incumbent U.S. Rep. Dan Goldman and former city Comptroller Brad Lander — for a district so solidly blue that the June primary is considered its deciding election — both candidates have made the Trump administration’s treatment of migrants at 26 Federal Plaza a feature of their campaigns, but with decidedly different approaches.

Goldman — an heir to the Levi Strauss denim fortune and former prosecutor who was lead counsel for President Trump’s first impeachment — has approached the topic with a lawyerly bent that leverages the power of his office.

He sued the administration to open immigration detention centers to members of Congress, conducts oversight visits and turned his office across the street into what he’s called a triage center that connects immigrants with advocacy groups and legal services that has, his campaign said, helped more than 30 people get released from federal custody.

After a recent visit, Goldman credited his oversight work as a reason conditions at a holding facility inside the building have improved.

“What you see from our multipronged approach is the way that I push back, which is not performative, but it is substantive,” he told the Associated Press outside 26 Federal Plaza after he toured the detention center that is closed to the public.

Meanwhile, Lander — a progressive city government stalwart who is running with the support of Mayor Zohran Mamdani — has acted as protester and court observer, watching hearings and attempting to accompany immigrants out of the building past masked federal agents.

His efforts have gotten him arrested twice, with the most recent case headed to a trial scheduled to take place just before the primary.

“I would characterize his oversight function as strongly worded letters,” Lander told AP when asked about Goldman’s approach. “And my oversight function is: Show up with hundreds of your neighbors and bear witness and accompany people and demand access and stay until they give it to you or they arrest you.”

Lander’s first arrest happened last year when he linked arms with a person authorities were attempting to detain in the hallway outside the court. Lander was running for mayor at the time, and the arrest gave his campaign a jolt of excitement at a time when Mamdani and former Gov. Andrew Cuomo were considered the front-runners in the race.

A few months later, after losing the mayoral primary but not long before launching his congressional campaign, Lander was arrested again during a large protest at the building and hit with a misdemeanor obstruction charge.

But instead of accepting a deal that would have made the case go away in six months, Lander instead opted to go to trial. He said the case would extract information about the federal government’s immigration enforcement efforts at the building during a tense period that predates Goldman’s oversight visits.

Goldman dismissed Lander’s efforts as performative.

“I don’t understand why someone would reject a dismissal of a case so that he can have a public trial, ostensibly to ask for information that I could provide him whenever he wanted because I have the answers from doing my oversight,” he said.

This week, Lander returned to 26 Federal Plaza to sit in on hearings. But just before entering the building, his team got word that federal agents were lingering outside an immigration hearing at a different federal courtroom in a building across the street. He raced over and eventually found the agents, who were wearing masks and milling around in the court’s waiting room.

“The challenge is trying to figure out who they’re going to arrest,” Lander said, popping out of the hearing, where he sat in a back row and took notes. After a while, the agents walked away from the hearing room, down a hallway and exited the floor. It was not clear why they left.

“Maybe we have different styles,” Lander said of his opponent after the agents departed. He later went back across the street and filmed a campaign video in front of 26 Federal Plaza.

Izaguirre writes for the Associated Press.

ORLANDO, Fla. — Environmental groups say that the timing of the expected closure of an immigration detention center in the middle of the Florida Everglades, likely in the next month or two, is no accident because it will come as their lawsuit challenging its existence returns to a federal judge who had previously ordered it shut down.

A federal appellate court decided last month to keep open the detention center nicknamed “Alligator Alcatraz,” for the time being, blocking a lower court decision ordering it to wind down operations. But the case was sent back to the lower court judge who now gets jurisdiction over the lawsuit as the litigation over the facility’s fate continues.

“Knowing that the same district judge who previously enjoined the operation would soon reassume oversight — the defendants are now effectively waving the white flag,” said Paul Schwiep, an attorney for the environmental groups that had sued, saying the facility’s construction hadn’t undergone a required environmental review.

When asked about the future of the state-run facility and its costs on Wednesday, Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis said that he hadn’t gotten any “official word” that federal authorities are going to stop sending detainees to the center.

But vendors who supply and help run the facility have been told that the closure could be as soon as next month, according to reports Tuesday by the New York Times and CBS News Miami. The Florida Department of Emergency Management, which operates the detention center, didn’t respond to an emailed inquiry on Wednesday. The Republican governor’s press secretary, Molly Best, referred questions about the facility to the state emergency management agency.

“We didn’t build any permanent facilities down there because we knew it was going to be temporary,” DeSantis said Wednesday at a news conference in Titusville, Fla.

DeSantis’ administration opened the facility in July to support the immigration crackdown by the administration of President Trump, who visited the detention center last summer. An attorney for two detainees has accused guards of severely beating and pepper-spraying detainees. Other detainees have said worms turn up in the food, toilets don’t flush and mosquitoes and other insects are everywhere.

“This monument to cruelty, waste and environmental and tribal lands abuse should have never been built,” U.S. Rep. Debbie Wasserman Schultz, a Democrat from Florida, said Tuesday.

Friends of the Everglades and the Center for Biological Diversity sued state and federal officials a short time after the facility opened, claiming the remote airstrip site in the Everglades wasn’t given a proper environmental review required by federal law before it was converted into an immigration detention center. U.S. District Judge Kathleen Williams in Miami agreed and ordered in August that the facility must wind down operations within two months.

The appellate court blocked the order, saying the Florida-run facility wasn’t under federal control and didn’t need to comply with federal law requiring an environmental impact review.

But the appellate court made clear that once Florida got federal reimbursement for the facility, it would have to comply with the federal environmental law, Schwiep said.

DeSantis said Tuesday that the state expected to be reimbursed by the federal government for $608 million, which has already been approved by the Federal Emergency Management Agency.

“There’s no negotiations on that,” he said.

Schneider writes for the Associated Press.