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JACKSONVILLE, Fla. — Former U.S. Atty. Gen. Janet Reno, still weighing whether she’ll run for governor, said Saturday she considers it important to improve the image of politics.

Reno and four other potential Democratic gubernatorial candidates spoke at the Young Democrats Summer Convention as they test the waters to explore running to unseat Gov. Jeb Bush next year.

Reno said she expects to decide in the next six weeks on whether to run for governor. She called for improvements to the state education system, a health care system that works with the federal government and a ban on new oil drilling.

“Let us do everything we can to preserve that fragile, wonderful land for our children and their children, and on and on and on,” she said.

The governor’s race is expected to be one of the most closely watched next year, and many Democrats view Bush as vulnerable because of the state’s contested vote in last year’s presidential election.

State House Minority Leader Lois Frankel was the only announced gubernatorial candidate to attend.

“We need to get rid of Jeb Bush. He needs to be retired,” Frankel told the gathering of about 150 people. She said winning the election was also about “political payback.”

The gathering also included speeches from Tallahassee Mayor Scott Maddox and U.S. Rep. Jim Davis, both of whom are considering entering the race.

Davis, a three-term congressman from Tampa, said he expects to decide by Labor Day whether he will run for governor.

“This election is not about payback,” he said. “It’s not about getting even. This is about replacing Jeb Bush with leadership that is going to move the state forward.”

Maddox said he did not know if he would run.

“There are a lot of good ones out there,” he said.

Three possible Democratic hopefuls did not attend the convention. They were former U.S. ambassador to Vietnam Pete Peterson, a former Panhandle congressman; state Sen. Daryl Jones of Miami; and Tampa attorney Bill McBride.

Jaren Jackson Jr. scored 16 of his 24 points in the second half and the Memphis Grizzlies rallied for a 112-107 win over the Clippers in the last game of NBA Cup play for both teams on Friday night.

The Grizzlies, who outscored the Clippers by eight in the fourth quarter to get their fourth win in five games, went 3-1 in West Group B but failed to secure a wild card into the knockout round because the Phoenix Suns had a better point differential.

Vincent Williams Jr. scored 16 points and Santi Aldama added 13 off the bench for the Grizzlies, who have a three-game road winning streak after dropping their previous five away from home. Zach Edey had 21 rebounds and five points.

Kawhi Leonard had 39 points in 29 minutes for the Clippers, who have lost six straight at home, with their last victory at Intuit Dome coming on Oct. 31. James Harden added 23 points.

Memphis struggled to get its offense going in the first half, relying on long-distance shooting from Kentavious Caldwell-Pope to provide some pop. They found a groove in the third quarter, rallying from a 16-point deficit to get within 81-78 to close the period, and it carried through as Cedric Coward gave the Grizzlies their first lead early in the fourth.

The Clippers started off strong by making hit three three-pointers to open the game and going six of nine from long range in the first quarter, but they finished 12 of 38 (31.6%) from deep.

Clippers point guard Chris Paul received a video tribute in his first home game since announcing he would retire at the end of the season. Paul finished with five points and two rebounds in 15 minutes.

Up next

Clippers: Host Dallas on Saturday. Grizzlies: At Sacramento on Sunday.

At 8 o’clock on a stormy weeknight in the chilly Chinatown offices of L.A. Taco, Memo Torres finally was worn out.

Since President Trump unleashed his deportation deluge on Los Angeles in June, the 45-year-old has chronicled nearly every immigration enforcement action in the region in three-minute “Daily Memo” videos for the online publication. He and his colleagues track down film footage and photos, reach out to officials to verify what they’ve found and hammer out a script for Torres to narrate.

The audio that played from Torres’ double-screen computer and smart phone as he reviewed the evidence on the day I visited contained snippets of the Southland’s sad soundtrack under what he continually calls the “siege” of ICE. Men pleading to la migra to stop hurting them. Activists cursing out agents. Whistles, screams, honks and sirens. Sobbing family members.

“If I wanted to cry, I don’t think that I could,” Torres said when I asked how he coped with seeing such videos ad nauseum.

“It’s not healthy, I know. It’s not mature. But what I go through is nothing like what the people I’m seeing are going through … Today was hard, though,” he continued, pounding his hand with his fist. “They went … extra hard today. They’re starting to get worse. Numbers that used to be a week’s worth of abductions are now a day.”

He sighed. His deep-set eyes were bleary. Reading glasses did nothing to help with 12 hours of staring at screens. Torres wiped his hands over his face as if washing off the horrors of the day and pressed the record button.

“Today, Border Patrol targeted Long Beach, swarming the streets again and taking gardeners, old men and a 12-pack of beer that they had,” he began. He talked over footage of masked men piling on top of a gardener at a Polly’s Pie in Long Beach as a police officer looked on with hands in pockets and a deer-in-headlights look.

In another clip, federal agents detained an elderly man sitting on the sidewalk near a liquor store, “making sure to put a handcuff on his hand as they helped him up.”

“Remember to stay safe and stay vigilant, folks,” Torres concluded.

He turned off the camera, blasted hardcore punk and began to splice his reel together.

“Daily Memo” has become the diary Los Angeles never asked for but which is now indispensable, documenting in real time one of the most terrifying chapters in the region’s history. Filling the camera frame with his broad shoulders, full beard and a baritone that alternates between wry, angry, calm and reassuring, Torres has been described by fans as the Edward R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite of L.A.’s deportation days — legendary broadcasters he acknowledges never having heard of until recently.

L.A. Taco staffer Memo Torres, right, presents Victor Villa as L.A. Taco’s Taco Madness 2024 winner in an impromptu ceremony outside the Highland Park restaurant in 2024.

(Stephanie Breijo / Los Angeles Times)

“When you’re in the midst of everything, you forget someone has to keep an archive so we can go back to reference, and you think, ‘Damn is someone is doing that?’ Yeah, Memo is doing that,” Sherman Austin said. The Long Beach-based activist runs the Stop ICE Raids Alert Network, which sends out text alerts with the locations of raids to more than half a million people nationwide. “Memo puts a human face to what’s happening, and that resonates with people in a different way.”

“He’s a neighborhood hero,” said Rebecca Brown, supervising attorney for the Immigrants’ Rights Project of Public Counsel. The public interest law firm has filed or joined multiple lawsuits against the federal government this year over its deportation agenda. “A lot of these stories of people who are getting picked up can fall through the cracks. But their voices are getting captured by his recording.”

While “Daily Memo” is chronicling a city under attack, it’s also bringing comfort to an unexpected person: Torres.

The son of a Mexican immigrant from Zacatecas who came to this country without papers, Torres never had a full-time journalism job until this year, living a “Forrest Gump kind of life.” He estimates he has worked in at least 25 different trades, from butcher to taquero to sound engineer, social media manager and nonprofit worker, none really fitting his life’s goal to do something “meaningful.”

Nothing lasted longer than landscaping. A third-generation jardinero — his grandfather also worked in the U.S. — he at one point employed 28 workers and had contracts across the city, with Hollywood studios among his biggest clients.

Torres, who has two college-age children, sold the business in March to focus on journalism for good.

“My life has prepared me for this s—. There’s nothing that scares me anymore,” Torres said as he began to layer video clips over his “Daily Memo” narration. “So I bury my head into work. My escapism is the cruel reality of the city right now.”

Torres grew up in Culver City and Inglewood. At Loyola High he absorbed the Jesuit maxim of being a man for others. But after graduating from UC Berkeley with a sociology degree, Torres found himself back in the family business, unable to find a job that satisfied him.

“Relatives would make fun of me by saying, ‘There he goes with a degree and a lawnmower in the back of a truck,” he said. “I hated it, but I was good at it.”

His landscaping routes across Southern California inadvertently prepared him for journalism. He started an Instagram account, El Tragón de Los Angeles (The Glutton from Los Angeles), to share his eating adventures. That caught the attention of L.A. Taco in 2018, which was revamping at a time when the city’s indie publications were shuttering or faltering.

“Their mission of street-level reporting called to me,” Torres said. He volunteered to connect L.A. Taco to local restaurants so the publication’s members could score free food and discounts. He soon became director of partnerships, then took over L.A. Taco’s social media accounts, then started to write articles and shoot videos — mostly for free.

“I call him the Mexican Swiss Army knife — and not those small ones but the big ones with all the weird things,” L.A. Taco publisher Alex Blazedale said as he and Torres smoked outside during a short break. “Memo could literally do anything we asked him to, and he wanted to do it and followed through.”

L.A. Taco staffer Memo Torres edits video clips from daily ICE raids which he puts together with narration on an Instagram reel inside L.A. Taco’s studio in Chinatown.

(Gina Ferazzi/Los Angeles Times)

Torres’ taco knowledge earned him appearances on the Netflix show “The Taco Chronicles” and a regular slot on KCRW’s “Good Food with Evan Kleiman.” Blazedale suggested this year that he do a daily news recap under the “Daily Memo” banner. But Torres found the title “cheesy and didn’t know what it was for.”

Then came the raids.

“I grew up on the History Channel,” Torres said. “They would always have these documentaries where they said they were finding new footage that had been thought lost. That’s what’s happening right now. So much stuff is being put up that quickly goes down. We need to document it for history.”

L.A. Taco editor Javier Cabral credits “Daily Memo” with bringing in so many new members that the publication is now financially sustainable.

“He’s not your average aspirational journalist who is either a hobbyist who wants to write more or someone who just got out of [journalism] school,” Cabral said. “He’s just a real paisa” — a working-class guy.

While Cabral finds Torres’ lack of reporting experience “refreshing,” he sometimes has to remind Torres not to editorialize too much.

“It’s that ‘Show, don’t tell’ thing in journalism, you know? But then I had to just check in with myself — am I being jealous by power-tripping at him?” Cabral said. “It was a hard conversation to have, but Memo took it [on] the chin and raised it up.”

Blazedale and Cabral believe so much in Torres that they recently hired a part-time assistant for “Daily Memo” and plan to turn an office at their headquarters into a proper studio. They got Torres a video editor, but the person quit after five minutes of viewing deportation footage — so Torres continues to put together the final product.

“We just can’t have Memo burn out,” Cabral said. “He’s too important to have that happen.”

Torres is unfazed, for now.

“It’s just like when I mowed lawns — let’s seize the day and make it your routine,” he said.

Besides, swimming in the chaos of the times is how Torres has dealt with a tough personal year. He sold his landscaping company, not just because of his increased L.A. Taco duties — he’s officially the publication’s director of engagement — but because the Hollywood writer’s strike and Trump’s deportations decimated his business. Two of his former gardeners have since been deported.

Torres started smoking again “to deal with all this.” He recently broke off an engagement after a 10-year-relationship with a woman whose family members were avid Trump supporters. On Election Night, Torres said, one of them told him to go back to Mexico. The couple’s Glendale home recently sold for far less than they paid. Soon, Torres plans to declare bankruptcy.

L.A. Taco’s offices are filled with boxes of his mementos as he settles into a new apartment. One is a laminated La Opinión story about him trying to recruit more Latino students to Berkeley after affirmative action ended.

“I always envisioned I would be useful for something,” he said before mentioning a letter from his mother he unearthed during his move. She died of cancer in 2006.

“She said, ‘I’m so proud of you. You’re trying to fight for what’s right. Don’t forget it.’ She saw it in me way back then.”

Torres uploaded his finished reel to L.A. Taco’s social media accounts. It was 10 p.m. — early for him. Outside the rain was pouring down harder than ever.

“I hope I can go back to writing about tacos,” Torres said with a laugh that betrayed he knew it wouldn’t happen for a while. “Just give me a break from reporting on the trauma and tragedy. But who knows if the future needs me? Maybe I’m just good for this moment, and I’m good with that.”

He stepped into the storm. Eight hours later, he would be back.

Two more former employees are taking legal action against Motown legend Smokey Robinson and his wife Frances Robinson, adding their allegations of sexual assault against the singer to a $50-million lawsuit filed earlier this year.

The women who sued the spouses in May for sexual assault and failure to pay overtime filed a motion last week in Los Angeles County Superior Court seeking to amend their initial complaint to include new claims from a fifth housekeeper and a man who detailed the couple’s cars. They both alleged separate incidents of Robinson grabbing their hands to touch his erect penis while they were working at his Chatsworth residence.

Robinson’s attorney Christopher Frost dismissed the latest round of allegations in a statement shared with multiple outlets but did not immediately respond to a Los Angeles Times request for comment Thursday. Frost said the two accusers — identified in court documents as Jane Doe 5 and John Doe 1 — are part of “the same group of people who have conspired together against the Robinsons and are laying out their claims for maximum adverse publicity.”

Frost, who previously dismissed the original May complaint as an “ugly method of trying to extract money from an 85-year-old American icon,” remained firm in those views. “This group of people, who hide behind anonymity, and their attorneys seek global publicity while making the ugliest of false allegations,” Frost told TMZ.

The plaintiffs’ motion outlined the proposed changes for the amended complaint, describing the alleged sexual assault that Jane Doe 5 and John Doe 1 faced during their tenure. Jane Doe 5 is described as a housekeeper who worked for the Robinsons in 2005 until 2011. She took a leave of absence because of a work-related injury but returned around 2007.

According to the motion, Jane Doe 5 says the singer (real name William Robinson Jr.) often called her from the second-floor bathroom and asked him to scrub his back. The Grammy-winning artist would allegedly turn to face her with an erect penis while he was showering before turning again for her to scrub his back. She alleges that on more than 10 occasions, he grabbed her hand in an attempt to force her to touch his erection. She “would strongly resist by forcibly pushing his hands away, and would escape from the bathroom,” the motion said.

Allegedly, Robinson often walked around the house naked and would rub his elbow against Jane Doe 5’s chest. This prompted her to get a breast reduction in 2015, years after she stopped working for the celebrity spouses. She claims the singer propositioned her for sex numerous times, including after declining to rehire her when he suggested she “accompany him to a nearby hotel.”

Jane Doe 5 also seeks legal action against Frances Robinson, whom she accuses of perpetuating “a hostile work environment.” She alleges Frances blamed her for getting injured while cleaning the home’s chimney and told her to keep working despite it. Jane Doe 5 accused Frances of failing to take “appropriate corrective action” to prevent her husband’s alleged sexual misconduct and echoes previous claims that Frances screamed at employees and “used ethnically pejorative words and language.”

She also repeats previous allegations that the spouses, who married in 2022, failed to pay minimum wage or overtime, echoing claims mentioned in the original lawsuit.

The motion described John Doe 1 as a more recent employee, who was hired in 2013 to detail the couple’s cars and other related services. He was subject to Smokey Robinson’s “sexually harassing conduct” shortly after he began working for the couple, the motion alleged. John Doe 1 said the singer would often appear at his workplace outside the home wearing only underwear and “would then touch and fondle his erect penis” in “plain view.” The artist allegedly made suggestive gestures and remarks, including beckoning John Doe 1 to join him in an “interior room” by his workspace.

Though John Doe 1 rejected the singer’s repeated advances and urged him to “put some clothes on,” in 2022 the musician grabbed his accuser’s hand and attempted to put it on his erection, the motion said. John Doe 1 “immediately withdrew, turned away and left.”

He claims the Robinsons ended his services shortly after the incident, but about a year later, they requested that he return. Smokey Robinson allegedly continued appearing “partially clothed, touching himself” and making sexually suggestive remarks, the motion said. John Doe 1 “experienced humiliation, emotional distress and ongoing fear for his safety and dignity.” He ultimately stopped working for the singer and his wife after learning of similar allegations from former employees.

John Doe 1 is not seeking action on wage-related counts but rather for claims including sexual battery, assault, gender violence, and negligent infliction of emotional distress.

A hearing for the motion is set for Jan. 6, and a trial for October 2027.

Stories will long be told about what Gazans have endured these last couple of years, and movies will be part of that unburdening. This spring, Iranian filmmaker Sepideh Farsi believed she would be unveiling a uniquely dignified portrait of one Palestinian woman’s experience when the Cannes Film Festival accepted her documentary “Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk,” which comprised her year of spirited video chats with positive-minded 25-year-old photojournalist and poet Fatma Hassona. The day after the Cannes news, Hassona and her family were killed by an Israeli missile.

It’s not unheard of for a completed movie to become something entirely different overnight. But what’s quietly miraculous about “Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk,” considering its added tragic weight, is what the force of Hassona’s personality and Farsi’s filmmaking choices still manage to do: speak to what’s ineffably beautiful about our human capacity for hope and connection.

In her opening narration, Farsi explains how she’d been looking for a way into Gaza to understand it beyond the media reports. Physically, that proved impossible, but through a refugee friend, she was connected to Hassona in April 2024. In their first video call, which Farsi, then in Cairo, recorded with a separate smartphone, Hassona’s beaming face immediately dispels any notion that all Palestinians must exist in a defeated state amid relentless bombing. Asked how she feels, Hassona — who had just witnessed a huge explosion the day prior — says, “I feel proud.” With unforced lightness, she assures Farsi that they will continue to live their lives and laugh, that they are “special people.” She knows every day is about actively not letting themselves get used to it. The documentary’s title is Hassona’s description of what she does when she leaves her house.

You believe her. That high-wattage smile registers as whatever the opposite of a bomb is. But it’s also easy to notice Farsi’s ingrained cynicism about the state of things, having once been imprisoned as a teenage dissident during the years following her country’s Islamic Revolution, now in exile. In her voice-over, Farsi describes meeting Hassona as if encountering a mirror, realizing “how much both our lives are conditioned by walls and wars.”

Farsi threads in many of Hassona’s photographs. The images of daily life amid destruction and rubble — children, bicyclists, workers, laundry drying from high floors in a half-destroyed building — hint at an inextinguishable flame carrying on through a campaign of death.

Though Farsi knows how to ask for details about her life in Gaza, the vibe isn’t one of interviews conducted to make a film, but a genuine curiosity and warmth, the ebb and flow of real interaction captured whenever possible. Meanwhile, war, politics and failed leadership can be glimpsed in brief interludes of news reports on Farsi’s television. But they’re always cut short, as if to say: I’d rather hear from my friend who’s living it.

Hassona’s face becomes so familiar to us, we can tell when her cheery disposition is hard to maintain. But her energy and hope never feel like depletable resources. “I want to be in a normal place!” she blurts out in one of their last conversations, almost as if she were a musical protagonist about to break into song. But Hassona never got more than a first act.

Farsi doesn’t draw the ending out: just sparsely worded text after witnessing their final chat, followed by a video Hassona had taken rolling through her devastated city, somehow grounded in a palpable, undying everydayness. You’ll feel loss, but the afterimage of this singular woman’s belief in finding light is what will burn.

Alex DeBrincat had two goals and an assist and the Detroit Red Wings beat the Ducks 6-3 on Thursday night to end a three-game losing streak.

DeBrincat has 18 goals and 33 points in 20 games against the Ducks.

Moritz Seider and Dylan Larkin each had a goal and an assist, and Axel Sandin-Pellikka scored his second career goal. Michael Rasmussen also scored after being a healthy scratch for Detroit’s 5-1 loss to Chicago on Sunday.

Jonatan Berggren, Patrick Kane and Lucas Raymond added two assists apiece.

Seider and DeBrincat scored on power plays, reviving a Detroit unit that had gone one for 20 during its previous five games.

John Gibson and Cam Talbot combined for 25 saves for Detroit. Gibson departed after two periods because of an undisclosed injury.

Cutter Gauthier, Chris Kreider and Mikael Granlund scored for the Ducks, and Lukas Dostal made 27 saves. Leo Carlsson’ss 11-game points streak ended. The Ducks have lost two straight after a seven-game winning streak.

Detroit took a 3-2 lead in the second period after a scoreless first.

The Red Wings broke the deadlock at 5:57 of the period after the Ducks’ Mason McTavish was whistled for his third penalty of the game. Seider scored on a shot from the point but the Ducks tied it less than two minutes later on Gauthier’s team-high 12th goal.

Rasmussen and Kreider traded goals before Sandin-Pellikka scored from the point for his second career goal.

DeBrincat gave the Red Wings a 4-2 lead 50 seconds into the third period when he tipped in Seider’s shot during a power play. Larkin scored on a two-on-none breakaway to answer Granlund’s goal. DeBrincat added an empty-netter.

The teams split their two-game season series.

PARIS — Salim Toorabally’s mental scars from the Paris terror attacks 10 years ago have not healed with time and the images of that night at Stade de France remain indelible.

The November 2015 attacks began at France’s national stadium and spread across the city in assaults that killed 132 people and injured more than 400. One person died and least 14 were injured outside Stade de France that night, but casualties there could have been far heavier without Toorabally’s vigilance.

It was Toorabally who stopped Bilal Hadfi — one of the three terrorist bombers who targeted the national stadium when France’s soccer team played Germany — from getting inside.

Toorabally was praised for his actions, by then-President François Hollande, by the Interior Ministry and also by the general public. Yet his own suffering, unrelenting since that night, went unnoticed.

“I was seen more as a hero than as a victim,” Toorabally told the Associated Press in a recent interview. “But this part of being a victim is equally inside me.”

Later on Thursday, France played Ukraine in a World Cup qualifier at the Parc des Princes stadium in Paris, where a commemoration was planned and Toorabally was invited by the French Football Federation.

“I will be there but with a heavy heart,” he said. “Ten years have passed like it was yesterday we were attacked.”

Stopping the bomber

Toorabally was positioned at Gate L as a stadium security agent.

Hadfi tried to enter but was stopped by Toorabally when he spotted him trying to tailgate another fan through the turnstile.

“A young man showed up. He was sticking close behind someone, moving forward without showing his ticket. So I said to him, ‘Sir, where are you going? Show me your ticket.’ But he just kept going, he wasn’t listening to me,” Toorabally told the AP. “So I put my arm out, put my arm in front of him so he couldn’t go inside, and then he said to me, ‘I have to get in, I have to get in.’ It made me suspicious.”

Toorabally kept an eye on the 20-year-old Hadfi, who was now standing back a few yards away.

“He positioned himself right in front of me, he was watching me work and I alerted [fellow security agents] over the radio: ‘Be careful at every gate, there’s a young man dressed in black with a young face, very childlike, who is trying to get in. Do not let him in,’” Toorabally recalled. ”He stood in front of me for about 10 minutes, watching me work, and that’s when I got really scared. I was worried he’d go back in, that I wouldn’t see him. I watched him intently, he stared at me intently and suddenly he disappeared in the crowd, he slipped away.”

Toorabally’s warning worked. Hadfi was denied entry elsewhere, before later detonating his explosive vest.

The explosions

There were two explosions close together during the first half of the match; the first ones around 9:20 p.m. near Gate D, and a third explosion approaching 10 p.m. close to a fast food outlet.

Toorabally vividly remembers them.

“I could feel the floor shaking,” he said. “There was a burning smell rising into the air, different to the smell of [smoke] flares.”

He also tended to a wounded man that night.

“I took charge of him, I lay the individual down. He had like these bolts [pieces of metal] lodged in his thigh,” said Toorabally, who still speaks to the man today. “I looked at my hands, there was blood. I didn’t have gloves on, and there were pieces of flesh in my hands.”

Keeping fans in the dark

Toorabally said he and other security agents were told not to inform spectators of the attack, to prevent a potential situation where 80,000 people tried leaving at the same time.

“The supporters inside couldn’t know the Stade de France had been attacked otherwise it would have caused enormous panic,” Toorabally explained. “At halftime some fans came up to us and asked, ‘What happened? Was there a gas explosion at the restaurants in front of the stadium?’ We didn’t answer them so as not to cause panic.”

After the game the stadium announcer told spectators which exit gates to use and many went home by train, including Toorabally.

Traumatic images

Five days after the attack he was called to a police station to help identify Hadfi as one of the bombers. Toorabally was given no forewarning of what he was about to see.

“They showed me a photo, his [Hadfi’s] head was separated from his body. The forensic police [officer] was holding his head,” Toorabally said. “I formally recognized him. It was indeed the man who had been in front of me, who had stood there, who had been alive and was now lifeless.”

Hadfi’s face remains imprinted on Toorabally’s mind.

“The image is very violent, someone’s head separated from his body. Then there’s the explosion, the odor of burning and my hand filled with human flesh. These images have stayed in my mind for 10 years.”

Toorabally‘s wage that night was 40 euros ($46). “I suffer from post-traumatic stress, it is very severe, very violent.”

Horrific memories can appear at any moment.

“I could be with you and talking with you and then all of sudden my mind goes back there,” Toorabally said. “This is something very, very difficult to deal with. It handicaps you.”

Talking helps

Toorabally talks to a psychiatrist and says it helps to tell people about what happened. But at the time of the attacks and in the months afterward he received no psychological support.

“That’s how traumatism sets in,” Toorabally said. “The proof being it stayed 10 years.”

He dealt with his mental anguish alone, having potentially saved hundreds of lives.

“Every time I go back to the Stade de France, I can’t help thinking about it,” Hollande told L’Équipe newspaper. “I realize what could have happened if an attack had taken place inside the stadium, or if panic had gripped the crowd.”

Former France midfielder Blaise Matuidi called Toorabally “more than a hero” and added “if the terrorists had entered, what would have happened? Just talking about it gives me chills.”

Pugmire writes for the Associated Press.

When it comes to Proposition 50, Marcia Owens is a bit fuzzy on the details.

She knows, vaguely, it has something to do with how California draws the boundaries for its 52 congressional districts, a convoluted and arcane process that’s not exactly top of the mind for your average person. But Owens is abundantly clear when it comes to her intent in Tuesday’s special election.

“I’m voting to take power out of Trump’s hands and put it back in the hands of the people,” said Owens, 48, a vocational nurse in Riverside. “He’s making a lot of illogical decisions that are really wreaking havoc on our country. He’s not putting our interests first, making sure that an individual has food on the table, they can pay their rent, pay electric bills, pay for healthcare.”

Peter Arensburger, a fellow Democrat who also lives in Riverside, was blunter still.

President Trump, said the 55-year-old college professor, “is trying to rule as a dictator” and Republicans are doing absolutely nothing to stop him.

So, Arensburger said, California voters will do it for them.

Or at least try.

“It’s a false equivalency,” he said, “to say that we need to do everything on an even keel in California, but Texas” — which redrew its political map to boost Republicans — “can do whatever they want.”

Proposition 50, which aims to deliver Democrats at least five more House seats in the 2026 midterm election, is either righteous payback or a grubby power grab.

A reasoned attempt to even things out in response to Texas’ attempt to nab five more congressional seats. Or a ruthless gambit to drive the California GOP to near-extinction.

It all depends on your perspective.

Above all, Proposition 50 has become a political ink-blot test; what many California voters see depends on, politically, where they stand.

Mary Ann Rounsavall thinks the measure is “horrible,” because that’s how the Fontana retiree feels about its chief proponent, Gavin Newsom.

“He’s a jerk,” the 75-year-old Republican fairly spat, as if the act of forming the governor’s name left a bad taste in her mouth. “No one believes anything he says.”

Timothy, a fellow Republican who withheld his last name to avoid online trolls, echoed the sentiment.

“It’s just Gavin Newsom playing political games,” said the 39-year-old warehouse manager, who commutes from West Covina to his job at a plumbing supplier in Ontario. “They always talk about Trump. ‘Trump, Trump, Trump.’ Get off of Trump. I’ve been hearing this crap ever since he started running.”

Riverside and San Bernardino counties form the heart of the Inland Empire. The next-door neighbors are politically purple: more Republican than the state as a whole, but not as conservative as California’s more rural reaches. That means neither party has an upper hand, a parity reflected in dozens of interviews with voters across the sprawling region.

On a recent smoggy morning, the hulking San Bernardino Mountains veiled by a gray-brown haze, Eric Lawson paused to offer his thoughts.

The 66-year-old independent has no use for politicians of any stripe. “They’re all crooks,” he said. “All of them.”

Lawson called Proposition 50 a waste of time and money.

Gerrymandering — the dark art of drawing political lines to benefit one party over another — is, as he pointed out, hardly new. (In fact, the term is rooted in the name of Elbridge Gerry, one of the nation’s founders.)

What has Lawson particularly steamed is the cost of “this stupid election,” which is pushing $300 million.

“We talk and talk and talk and we print money for all this talk,” said Lawson, who lives in Ontario and consults in the auto industry. “But that money doesn’t go where it’s supposed to go.”

Although sentiments were evenly split in those several dozen conversations, all indications suggest that Proposition 50 is headed toward passage Tuesday, possibly by a wide margin. After raising a tidal wave of cash, Newsom last week told small donors that’s enough, thanks. The opposition has all but given up and resigned itself to defeat.

It comes down to math. Proposition 50 has become a test of party muscle and a talisman of partisan faith and California has a lot more Democrats and Democrat-leaning independents than Republicans and GOP-leaning independents.

Andrea Fisher, who opposes the initiative, is well aware of that fact. “I’m a conservative,” she said, “in a state that’s not very conservative.”

She has come to accept that reality, but fears things will get worse if Democrats have their way and slash California’s already-scanty Republican ranks on Capitol Hill. Among those targeted for ouster is Ken Calvert, a 16-term GOP incumbent who represents a good slice of Riverside County.

“I feel like it’s going to eliminate my voice,” said Fisher, 48, a food server at her daughter’s school in Riverside. “If I’m 40% of the vote” — roughly the percentage Trump received statewide in 2024 — “then we in that population should have fair representation. We’re still their constituents.” (In Riverside County, Trump edged Kamala Harris 49% to 48%.)

Amber Pelland says Proposition 50 will hurt voters by putting redistricting back into the hands of politicians.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

Amber Pelland, 46, who works in the nonprofit field in Corona, feels by “sticking it to Trump” — a tagline in one of the TV ads supporting Proposition 50 — voters will be sticking it to themselves. Passage would erase the political map drawn by an independent commission, which voters empowered in 2010 for the express purpose of wrestling redistricting away from self-dealing lawmakers in Washington and Sacramento.

“I don’t care if you hate the person or don’t hate the person,” said Pelland, a Republican who backs the president. “It’s just going to hurt voters by taking the power away from the people.”

Even some backers of Proposition 50 flinched at the notion of sidelining the redistricting commission and undoing its painstaking, nonpartisan work. What helps make it palatable, they said, is the requirement — written into the ballot measure — that congressional redistricting will revert to the commission after the 2030 census, when California’s next set of congressional maps is due to be drafted.

“I’m glad that it’s temporary because I don’t think redistricting should be done in order to give one political party greater power over another,” said Carole, a Riverside Democrat. “I think it’s something that should be decided over a long period and not in a rush.” (She also withheld her last name so her husband, who serves in the community, wouldn’t be hassled for her opinion, she said.)

Texas, Carole suggested, has forced California to act because of its extreme action, redistricting at mid-decade at Trump’s command. “It’s important to think about the country as a whole,” said the 51-year-old academic researcher, “and to respond to what’s being done, especially with the pressure coming from the White House.”

Felise Self-Visnic, a 71-year-old retired schoolteacher, agreed.

She was shopping at a Trader Joe’s in Riverside in an orange ball cap that read “Human-Kind (Be Both).” Back home, in her garage-door window, is a poster that reads “No Kings.”

She described Proposition 50 as a stopgap measure that will return power to the commission once the urgency of today’s political upheaval has passed. But even if that wasn’t the case, the Democrat said, she would still vote in favor.

“Anything,” Self-Visnic said, “to fight fascism, which is where we’re heading.”

Thirty-four children were among 78 people killed in the deadly blaze, which occurred during the school holidays.

A Turkish court has sentenced 11 people to life in prison over a fire that killed 78 people at a hotel in a ski resort in northwest Turkiye’s Bolu mountains in January.

Among those sentenced on Friday were Halit Ergul – the owner of the Grand Kartal Hotel, which sits in the Kartalkaya ski resort about 295km (183 miles) east of Istanbul – according to state-run broadcaster TRT Haber.

The court also sentenced Ergul’s wife, Emine Ergul, and their daughters, Elif Aras and Ceyda Hacibekiroglu – all of whom were part of the hotel’s management team.

The deadly blaze broke out overnight in the restaurant of the Grand Kartal on January 21, quickly engulfing the 12-storey hotel, where 238 guests were staying.

Thirty-four children were among 78 people killed in the fire, which occurred during the school holidays when many families from Ankara and Istanbul head to the Bolu mountains to ski.

Another 137 people suffered injuries during the incident, as panicked hotel guests were forced to jump from windows in the middle of the night.

Also sentenced on Friday were the hotel’s general manager, Emir Aras, as well as the deputy mayor of Bolu, Sedat Gulener, and the director of another hotel, Ahmet Demir, both of whom were reportedly on the board of directors of the company that owned the Grand Kartal.

There are a total of 32 defendants in the trial, 20 of whom are in pre-trial detention, according to TRT. It’s unclear when the remaining defendants will appear in court.

In total, the convicted were handed 34 aggravated life sentences for the 34 children killed in the disaster. Those in the courtroom greeted the announcement with applause.

The fire sparked nationwide anger in Turkiye, with questions raised over safety measures in place at the hotel after survivors said no fire alarms went off during the incident, and they had to navigate smoke-filled corridors in complete darkness.

Under pressure to act, Turkish authorities quickly arrested nine people in connection with the blaze, while the government appointed six prosecutors to lead an investigation.

Speaking to reporters outside the still-smoking hotel, Interior Minister Ali Yerlikaya pledged that those “responsible for causing this pain will not escape justice”.

Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan announced a day of national mourning, as he served as a pallbearer at a funeral ceremony for the victims the following day.