L.A. County supervisors want to bar “predatory” salespeople who they say prey on vulnerable residents seeking benefits from the region’s social services offices.
The supervisors unanimously voted Tuesday to explore creating a “buffer zone” outside county offices, prohibiting certain types of “aggressive” solicitation toward people seeking food stamps and cash aid. County lawyers have two months to figure out what such a zone would look like.
The looming crackdown follows a Times investigation that found seven people who said recruiters outside a social services office in South Los Angeles paid them to sue the county over sex abuse. Two more later told The Times they, too, were solicited for sex abuse lawsuits outside a county social services office in Long Beach, though they initially believed they were being recruited to be extras in a movie.
“We are painfully aware of the ongoing allegations of fraud and the pay-to-sue tactics used to recruit clients and file lawsuits against the county,” said Supervisor Janice Hahn, who announced she would push for the buffer zone after the Times investigation. “There must be greater accountability both to protect survivors seeking justice and to ensure that fraudulent claims and predatory solicitation are stopped at their source.”
The county’s more than 40 social services offices act as one-stop shops for residents who need help applying for food, housing and cash assistance. Outside many of the larger offices in poorer areas, a bustling ecosystem thrives with vendors hawking goods and services to those in line.
The supervisors said Tuesday they were troubled by some of the offerings.
“Vendors asking for copies of people’s personal documents, trying to sell them products and even recruiting people into claims against the county — this behavior puts residents at real risk and undermines the trust in our public services,” said Supervisor Lindsey Horvath.
Supervisor Kathryn Barger said she wanted to see reforms that would protect both taxpayers and “vulnerable individuals who are being used as pawns to line the pockets of many of these attorneys.”
The motion passed 3 to 0. Supervisors Hilda Solis and Holly Mitchell, whose district includes the social services office where some of the lawsuit recruitment took place, were absent.
The Times spent two weeks outside the South L.A. office this fall and watched vendors seek out dozens of people with Medi-Cal, the state’s health insurance for low-income Californians. The vendors would pay them anywhere between $3 and $12 to undergo COVID and blood pressure tests, which they said would be billed to their state insurance. Some people said they routinely stopped by the location for quick cash.
Giveaways of free phones are also popular for those who are eligible through a government-subsidized program. Recipients have complained that the service on the phones was often short-lived, with some people returning to the kiosks within a few days after their number stopped working.
Leaders at the Department of Public Social Services, who oversee the offices, say they’re limited in what they can do outside their facilities. Many of the busiest locations are in Los Angeles or smaller cities, where the county has no authority. And regulating where vendors can go on public sidewalks has proved a reliable headache for local governments in the past.
Last year, the Los Angeles City Council eliminated the “no-vending zones” it had created in areas where it said street vendors would contribute to congestion. The ban was met with an outcry and a lawsuit from vendors who argued street vending had been decriminalized and the city could no longer outlaw the stands.
Eugene Volokh, a 1st Amendment professor and senior fellow at Stanford University’s Hoover Institution, said the county will have to be careful in defining what conduct is “predatory” and what is protected speech.
“The devil’s going to be in the details,” Volokh said. “Whenever you hear words like ‘predatory’ or ‘exploitative’ or ‘harassing’ or ‘bullying,’ you know you’re dealing with terms that are potentially very vague and often, by themselves, too vague to be legally usable terms.”
L.A. County is bringing on a retired judge to tackle a $4-billion question: How can officials ensure that real victims are compensated from the biggest sex abuse payout in U.S. history — and not people who made up their claims?
The county has tapped Daniel Buckley, a former presiding judge of the county’s Superior Court, to vet cases brought by Downtown LA Law Group after The Times found nine people represented by the firm who said they were paid to sue the county by recruiters. Four of the plaintiffs said they were told to fabricate the claims.
Downtown LA Law Group, or DTLA, has denied paying any of its roughly 2,700 clients, but agreed to cover the cost of Buckley to examine their cases in the $4-billion sex abuse settlement.
In a letter sent to clients Monday, Andrew Morrow, the lead attorney in the firm’s sex abuse cases, noted there are “additional safeguards” and “vetting protocols” underway following recent reports of paid clients, but did not specifically mention the new judge.
“While we categorically deny this ever occurred, we take these matters seriously and welcome the implementation of additional review procedures to ensure false claims do not move forward in the process,” wrote Morrow, the chairman of the firm’s mass torts department.
On Oct. 17, Dawyn Harrison, the top attorney for the county, requested an investigation from the State Bar based on The Times’ reporting, saying she believed some of the settlement would flow to “the pockets of the plaintiffs’ bar” rather than victims.
“The actions described in the article, if true, are despicable and run afoul of ethical duties of attorneys and criminal law in California,” Harrison wrote in a letter to Erika Doherty, the bar’s interim executive director. “I request the State Bar investigate all of the potential fraudulent and illegal activities described in this letter.”
DTLA declined to comment last week. The firm has previously said it works “hard to present only meritorious claims and have systems in place to help weed out false or exaggerated allegations.”
The bulk of the claims will be reviewed by retired Superior Court Judge Louis Meisinger, who will decide awards between $100,000 and $3 million.
The amount will depend on the severity of the abuse, the impact on the victim’s life and the amount of evidence provided, according to the allocation protocol. The money will be paid out over five years unless the victim opts to get a one-time check for $150,000.
If the judges find cases they believe are fraudulent, the county can either resolve them through a $50,000 payment or get them removed from the settlement. The county saves money in that case, but runs the risk of the plaintiff continuing to litigate and landing a larger payout from a jury trial.
It’s unusual — but not unheard of — for a neutral arbiter to be appointed to investigate cases from a specific firm in a massive settlement.
Retired U.S. Bankruptcy Judge Barbara Houser, who is overseeing the $2.4-billion trust for victims of the Boy Scouts of Americas sex abuse cases, said last month that she had asked for an “independent third party” to vet the claims brought by Slater Slater Schulman after finding a pattern of “irregularities” and “procedural and factual problems” among its plaintiffs.
Slater Slater Schulman, headquartered in New York City, represents roughly 14,000 victims in the Boy Scouts case. It also represents roughly 3,700 people in the L.A. County settlement — the most of any firm, by far.
On Oct. 14, Lawrence Friedman, a former Department of Justice attorney who headed up the federal watchdog office for the bankruptcy system, spearheaded a blistering motion asking Houser to reduce Slater’s attorneys fees, which he estimated were at least $20 million. Friedman is seeking to push them out of the case, alleging the firm had “run amok” and “dangled the prospect of lottery sized payouts” in front of clients without vetting them.
“The SLATER law firm has little if any quality controls in place to validate the information in the 14,600 claims other than validating that they were real people who had filed the claim,” the motion stated. “…What SLATER has effectively created is simply a ‘Claims Machine’ designed to spit out huge wads of cash for itself!”
Clifford Robert, an outside attorney who is representing Slater Slater Schulman in its issues with the Boy Scouts cases, said the firm’s priority “has been and always will be securing justice on behalf of sexual abuse victims.”
Friedman, who has been outspoken about misconduct by mass tort attorneys in bankruptcy cases, said he now represents dozens of former Slater plaintiffs. The ex-clients alleged the firm waited more than a year before informing them their cases were undergoing additional vetting and their payments would be delayed. The firm told them this September about the outside investigation, which began in June 2024, according to an email attached to the Oct. 14 motion.
“We now agree that there are procedural and factual problems in some of our claim submissions to the Trust,” the three partners of Slater Slater Schulman wrote in a joint email to clients on Sept. 9. “Because of the problematic claims, we have agreed that all of our claim submissions to the Trust be vetted by an independent third party.”
Both judges who will vet the L.A. County sex abuse payouts work for Signature Resolution, a firm that specializes in resolving legal disputes outside the courtroom with a heavyweight roster of former judges and lawyers. Litigation management company BrownGreer will be the settlement administration arm, responsible for making sure the checks go out, liens are settled and the judges have the records they need from the 11,000 plaintiffs.
An additional 414 sex abuse claims that led to a separate $828-million settlement announced Oct. 17 will be reviewed by a different judge with the money distributed over the course of three years. That settlement, which involves claims from three firms that opted to litigate separately from the rest, is expected to receive final approval from the Board of Supervisors on Tuesday.
The county will give the first tranche of money to the fund administered by BrownGreer in January, though it’s unclear when that money will trickle down to victims. The additional fraud review could slow the process as the judges will need to decide what all 11,000 of the claims are worth before any of the money goes out.
“They should have had their duck in the rows at the beginning,” said Tammy Rogers, 56, who sued over sex abuse at a county-run shelter for children in 2022.
Rogers said she has seen her bank account depleted recently following a shoulder surgery and her daughter’s funeral. She said she’s grown skeptical the settlement money will come her way anytime soon after reading the recent coverage of plaintiffs who say they were paid to sue.
“They should have known people were going to come out of the woodwork and do stuff like this,” she said. “They should have taken this time in the beginning, not in the end.”
Tammy Rogers, one of the plaintiffs who sued L.A. County over alleged abuse at MacLaren Hall, says she’s worried the extra vetting may delay payments to victims.
(Carlin Stiehl/Los Angeles Times)
The number of claims has fluctuated in recent months as some of the firms have dismissed cases from plaintiffs who died, lost interest in their lawsuit, or stopped responding. Since the Times initial investigation ran on Oct. 2, DTLA has asked for the dismissal of at least 14 plaintiffs, according to a Times analysis of court records.
On Oct. 17, the firm asked a judge to dismiss three people in a 63-plaintiff lawsuit filed April 29 who told The Times they’d been paid to sue the county for sex abuse.
Quantavia Smith, whose case DTLA asked to be dismissed without prejudice, previously told The Times a recruiter paid her to join the litigation, but said she had a legitimate sex abuse claim against the county. She said the recruiter drove her to the office of a downtown law firm and then gave her $200.
The firm also asked to dismiss the cases of Nevada Barker and Austin Beagle with prejudice, meaning the cases can’t be refilled. The Times reported this month that the Texan couple were told to make up allegations of abuse at a county-run juvenile hall and provided a script by someone inside the firm’s downtown office. Both said they left the firm with $100.
The Times could not reach the alleged recruiter for comment.
Austin Beagle and Nevada Barker say they were unwittingly ushered into a fraudulent lawsuit against L.A. County filed by Downtown LA Law Group.
(Joe Garcia/For The Times)
On the morning the story published Oct. 16, Beagle and Barker each received an automated email from Vinesign, a legal e-signature site, telling them Downtown LA Law was requesting their signature on a document.
“I wish to affirm my claim that I was sexually abused in a Los Angeles County juvenile facility, and I was never paid to bring this claim forward,” stated the DTLA declaration, which they were asked to sign under the penalty of perjury.
Both said they did not want to sign as it was not true — and the opposite of what had just been published that morning in The Times. Beagle said the firm called twice that morning to discuss.
“We told them just dismiss it,” said Beagle. “We ain’t talking about it.”
Times assistant data and graphics editor Sean Greene contributed to this report.
It felt like the kind of thing that must happen in Hollywood all the time: a hundred bucks to be a movie extra.
Austin Beagle, 31, and Nevada Barker, 30, said they were trying to sign up for food stamps this spring when someone offered them a background role outside a county social services office in Long Beach. They thought the gig seemed intriguing, albeit a bit unusual.
The offer came not from a casting director, but a man hawking free cellphones. The filming location was, oddly enough, a law firm in downtown Los Angeles.
Like many DTLA clients, Austin Beagle and Nevada Barker signed a retainer agreement that entitles the firm to 45% of their payout.
(Joe Garcia / For The Times)
Maybe this was how actors were recruited here, they figured. The couple had recently moved from the remote ranching town of Stinnett in the Texas panhandle, and the recruiter seemed to appreciate their Southern drawl. They hopped on a bus, excited to make $200 between them.
“They said we’d be extras,” said Beagle, who was unemployed at the time. “But when we got to the office, that’s not what it was at all.”
The couple said they arrived at the lobby of Downtown LA Law Group. A Times investigation published earlier this month found seven plaintiffs represented by the firm who claimed they received cash from recruiters to sue the county over sex abuse, which could violate state law. Two said they had never been abused and were told to manufacture their claims.
Downtown LA Law Group has denied any involvement with the recruiters who allegedly paid plaintiffs. The firm said in a statement it would never “encourage or tolerate anyone lying about being abused” and has been conducting additional screening to remove “false or exaggerated claims” from its caseload.
Four days after The Times’ investigation was published, the firm asked for a lawsuit on behalf of Carlshawn Stovall, one of the men who said he fabricated claims, to be dismissed with prejudice, meaning the case cannot be refiled.
The firm requested a second case spurred by Juan Fajardo, who said he made up a claim using the name of a family member, to be dismissed with prejudice on Sept. 9 after Fajardo says he told lawyers he wanted to drop the lawsuit.
Now, with Beagle and Barker, two more have come forward to allege they were told to invent the stories that led to their lawsuits.
Austin Beagle and Nevada Barker said they’d been in Southern California only a few months when they were flagged down outside a social services office where they were hoping to enroll in food stamps. The couple have since moved back to Stinnett, Texas.
(Joe Garcia / For The Times)
The couple said that when they arrived at DTLA’s offices in April, a man came down to the lobby with a clipboard and gave them a piece of paper to memorize before going upstairs. They assumed this was the role they’d be playing — with room to go off script.
“They told us to say that we were sexually abused and harassed by the guards in … Las P? I can’t think of the institution’s name,” said Beagle, who added he was told to say the incidents occurred around 2005.
“The worse it was the better,” he recalled being told.
On April 29, Downtown LA Law Group filed a lawsuit against the county on behalf of 63 plaintiffs, including Beagle and Barker, who claimed they were abused at Los Padrinos, L.A. County’s juvenile hall in Downey. The couple are now part of the $4-billion settlement.
Allegations of potential fraud and pay-to-sue tactics have rocked both L.A. County government and powerhouse law firms, which are scrambling to figure out how to salvage the largest sex abuse settlement in U.S. history.
Perhaps no group has been shaken more than sex abuse victims themselves, who fear allegations of false claims could derail what they hoped would be a life-changing settlement.
“I just couldn’t believe it,” said Jimmy Vigil, 45, who sued the county in December 2022 for alleged sexual abuse by a probation officer at a detention camp in Lancaster.
Vigil said he was repeatedly molested as a 14-year-old and forced to masturbate in front of other teens while the guard watched.
“It makes me feel disgusted,” said Vigil, now a mental health case manager in Ventura County. “You have absolutely no clue what I went through. You have no clue how hard I have strived in life to make it to where I am at today.”
Jimmy Vigil, now a mental health case worker in Ventura, said he was repeatedly molested as a teenager and forced to masturbate in front of other teens.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Barker and Beagle said that after memorizing the card with the basics of their story, they were taken upstairs to a room at DTLA’s office where about 20 people were waiting. Everyone seemed confused, they said.
They “were asking us ‘Hey, did y’all promise to get paid? And we said ‘Yeah, somebody told us that we’d get paid $100 if we come in,” Beagle said. “Everybody was just concerned about getting paid whatever they were promised.”
DTLA said in a statement it has “never directed, nor do we have any knowledge that anyone was ever paid, hired, or brought to the DTLA office, or was asked to memorize a script of any kind under the guise of filmmaking,”
“We are not filmmakers,” the firm said. “No one authorized on behalf of the firm has ever promised or implied movie extra work as a means of retaining clients.”
Beagle and Barker said they were called in together to a glass cubicle where a woman spent 15-20 minutes asking them questions about their story of abuse. Barker said she struggled to come up with details because “it was all made-up stuff.”
Beagle said he thought maybe the staffers in the law firm were also acting, pretending not to know this was “a fake thing.”
“Like, they were testing us all out to see if we knew how to act — just play the part,” Beagle said. “Like, this was a trial thing.”
The couple said they were befuddled at the interaction but figured they’d done enough to get their money; the receptionist told them to come back in a few hours to collect.
The firm said, in some circumstances, it provides “interest free loans to clients once they have retained our services.”
Beagle and Barker said they frittered away two hours at Pershing Square a few blocks away until around 4 p.m. It was only when they came back to the firm, they said, that it became clear there was no movie.
A man named Kevin paid them $100 each, and told them they were part of a massive settlement involving juvenile halls they’d never heard about until that afternoon. The man told them they could get $100 for each additional person they referred to go through the same process, Beagle said.
“We walked out thinking I don’t know how legit this is and we might even get f— in trouble for it,” Beagle said.
Like most sexual abuse lawsuits, the suit was filed using only plaintiffs’ initials. The Times reviewed paperwork that DTLA provided to Beagle and Barker, which they signed in order to become clients on April 21 and to opt into the L.A. County settlement on May 29.
Under the settlement, each plaintiff could be eligible for anywhere from $100,000 to $3 million. Retainer agreements for Beagle and Barker reviewed by The Times show DTLA would get 45% of their payout.
Beagle and Barker said they aren’t banking on getting any money from L.A. County. After all, they said, they grew up in Texas, more than a thousand miles away from the abuse-plagued facilities.
“We need it, but it’s not ours. It’s like finding a wallet,” Barker said. “Return it.”
A Times investigation published earlier this month found plaintiffs represented by Downtown LA Law Group who claimed they received cash from recruiters to sue L.A. County over sex abuse. Four now say they were told to make up the claims.
(Carlin Stiehl / Los Angeles Times)
Among some survivors, there is a palpable fear that the fraud allegations will steamroll the settlement, overshadowing the fact that many county-run facilities were home to unchecked abuse and torpedoing their chance of receiving a life-changing sum.
The Times interviewed eight victims for this article represented by Slater Slater Schulman, ACTS LAW Firm, McNicholas & McNicholas, and Becker Law Group. Many said they were aghast at learning the worst years of their life may have become fodder for quick cash.
“It felt like a kick in the gut,” said Trinidad Pena, 52. “For somebody just to lie about it was just sickening.”
On Sept. 18, Pena said, she was eating a pancake breakfast at a homeless services center in Long Beach when she learned she had something in common with a woman sitting on the picnic bench next to her.
Both had filed lawsuits against L.A. County alleging sexual abuse at county-run facilities. Both of them were part of the county’s $4-billion settlement. But she was the only one, she believed, who had actually been abused.
The woman told her she’d been paid $20 to sue by a woman who hung around on the sidewalk outside the community center clutching a clipboard, she said.
The Times could not reach the recruiters allegedly responsible for paying plaintiffs for comment.
Trinidad Pena, who sued in 2022 over sex abuse, said she was jarred to find herself at breakfast with a woman who told her she’d been paid to sue the county.
(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Pena sued L.A. County in December 2022 over an alleged rape when she was 12 by a staff member at MacLaren Children’s Center, a shuttered youth shelter now infamous for predatory staff. No amount of cash is going to erase the scars from that, she says. But it would help.
Last month, Pena traded in her New Orleans shotgun apartment for the streets of Southern California, where she was raised. The move was, she said, a Hail Mary attempt to get medical treatment through the state’s public benefits for a cyst sprouting behind her right eye that made her vision wobble and her head crackle with pain.
She is currently living on $1,206 a month in and out of her van with a failing shunt in her head, which doctors implanted to treat her cyst. She eats mostly the nonperishable Trader Joe’s snacks she brought from Louisiana.
A six- or seven-figure settlement could help save her life, Pena said.
“I’m going to have myself a hell of a Charlie Sheen party and take a nosedive off a balcony at the Chateau Marmont if I do not get some sort of relief,” said Pena, who says she grew up in foster care near the legendary West Hollywood hotel.
Part of what has made the false claims so infuriating, victims say, is that L.A. County youth detention facilities were indeed home to horrific abuse decades ago.
Kizzie Jones, 47, said she’s on antidepressants as a result of a female probation officer who allegedly molested her twice a week and groomed her with bags of chips and bottles of conditioner.
Robert Williams, 41, says he has no friends — a near-total isolation he said traces back to repeated sexual assaults in the shower he suffered as a teen.
Mario Paz, 39, said a guard molested him under the guise of soothing his genitals with milk after he was pepper sprayed while naked. The abuse, he says, has left him traumatized to the point that he is unable to change his children’s Pampers.
All three of them filed lawsuits against the county alleging sexual abuse by county probation officers.
Mario Paz, 39, said his time at Los Padrinos Juvenile Hall left him traumatized and damaged the relationship he has with his own children.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
“For someone to capitalize on something that they never endured or never experienced, I think it’s a travesty,” said Cornelious Thompson, a 51-year-old community health worker, who sued the county in December 2022.
When he was around 13 at Los Padrinos, Thompson says he was put on psychiatric medication that knocked him out. He woke up in his unit sore with his pants hanging by his knees, bleeding. It took him years to tell anyone.
He said he recently lost his job with a contractor for the county’s health department due to budget cuts. The county had to slash spending, in part, to pay for the $4-billion settlement.
It was “bittersweet,” he says, losing his job because the county was finally paying for what he said he endured as a teenager.
Only now, a new fear has crept in as two more people say they made up claims: Will he still be believed?
A judge temporarily blocked California Atty. Gen. Rob Bonta’s attempt to take over Los Angeles County’s beleaguered juvenile halls on Friday, finding that despite evidence of a “systemic failure” to improve poor conditions, Bonta had not met the legal grounds necessary to strip away local control.
After years of scandals — including frequent drug overdoses and incidents of staff violence against youths — Bonta filed a motion in July to place the county’s juvenile halls in “receivership,” meaning a court-appointed monitor would manage the facilities, set their budgets and oversee the hiring and firing of staff. An ongoing staffing crisis previously led a state oversight body to deem two of L.A. County’s halls unfit to house children.
L.A. County entered into a settlement with the California Department of Justice in 2021 to mandate improvements, but oversight bodies and a Times investigation earlier this year found the Probation Department was falling far short of fixing many issues, as required by the agreement.
On Friday, Los Angeles County Superior Court Judge Peter A. Hernandez chastised Bonta for failing to clearly lay out tasks for the Probation Department to abide by in the 2021 settlement. Hernandez said the attorney general’s office’s filings failed to show that a state takeover would lead to “a transformation of the juvenile halls.”
The steps the Probation Department needs to take to meet the terms of the settlement have been articulated in court filings and reports published by the L.A. County Office of the Inspector General for several years. Hernandez was only assigned to oversee the settlement in recent months and spent much of Friday’s hearing complaining about a lack of “clarity” in the case.
Hernandez wrote that Bonta’s motion had set off alarm bells about the Probation Department’s management of the halls.
“Going forward, the court expects all parties to have an ‘all-hands’ mentality,” the judge wrote in a tentative ruling earlier this week, which he adopted Friday morning.
Hernandez said he would not rule out the possibility of a receivership in the future, but wanted more direct testimony from parties, including Probation Department Chief Guillermo Viera Rosa and the court-appointed monitor over the settlement, Michael Dempsey. A hearing was set for Oct. 24.
The attorney general’s office did not immediately respond to a request for comment.
“The Department remains fully committed to making the necessary changes to bring our juvenile institutions to where they need to be,” Vicky Waters, the Probation Department’s chief spokesperson, said in a statement. “However, to achieve that goal, we must have both the authority and support to remove barriers that hinder progress rather than perpetuate no-win situations.”
The California attorney general’s office began investigating L.A. County’s juvenile halls in 2018 and found probation officers were using pepper spray excessively, failing to provide proper educational and therapeutic programming and detaining youths in solitary confinement for far too long.
Bonta said in July that the county has failed to improve “75%” of what they were mandated to change in the 2021 settlement.
A 2022 Times investigation revealed a massive staffing shortage was leading to significant injuries for both youths and probation officers. By May of 2023, the California Board of State and Community Corrections ordered Barry J. Nidorf Juvenile Hall in Sylmar shuttered due to unsafe conditions. That same month, an 18-year-old died of an overdose while in custody.
The county soon reopened Los Padrinos Juvenile Hall in Downey, but the facility quickly became the site of a riot, an escape attempt and more drug overdoses. Last year, the California attorney general’s office won indictments against 30 officers who either orchestrated or allowed youths to engage in “gladiator fights.” That investigation was sparked by video of officers allowing eight youths to pummel another teen inside Los Padrinos, which has also been deemed unfit to house youths by a state commission.
In court Friday, Laura Fair, an attorney from the attorney general’s office, said that while she understood Hernandez’s position, she expressed concern that teens are still in danger while in the Probation Department’s custody.
“The youth in the halls continue to be in grave danger and continue to suffer irreparable harm every day,” she said.
She declined to comment further outside the courtroom. Waters, the Probation Department’s spokesperson, said she was unaware of the situation Fair was describing but would look into it.
Despite the litany of fiascoes over the last few years, probation leaders still argued in court filings that Bonta had gone too far.
“The County remains open to exploring any path that will lead to better outcomes. But it strongly opposes the DOJ’s ill-conceived proposal, which will only harm the youth in the County’s care by sowing chaos and inconsistency,” county lawyers wrote in an opposition motion submitted last month. “The DOJ’s request is almost literally without precedent. No state judge in California history has ever placed a correctional institution into receivership.”
Under the leadership of Viera Rosa, who took office in 2023, the Probation Department has made improvements to its efforts to keep drugs out of the hall, rectify staffing issues and hold its own officers accountable for misconduct, the county argued.
The department has placed “airport-grade” body scanners and drug-sniffing dogs at the entrances to both Nidorf and Los Padrinos in order to stymie the influx of narcotics into the halls, according to Robert Dugdale, an attorney representing the county.
Dugdale also touted the department’s hiring of Robert Arcos, a former high-ranking member of the Los Angeles Police Department and L.A. County district attorney’s office, to oversee security in the facilities.
The motion claimed it was the Probation Department that first uncovered the evidence that led to the gladiator fight prosecutions. Bonta said in March that his office launched its investigation after it reviewed leaked footage of one of the incidents.
Los Angeles County agreed to pay $20 million Tuesday to the family of Noah Cuatro, a 4-year-old Palmdale boy who was tortured to death by his parents in 2019.
The case brought intense scrutiny of the county’s child welfare system after it was revealed that the Department of Children and Family Services had failed to remove Noah from his parents despite a court order.
DCFS had been given 10 days to get Noah away from his parents and seen by a doctor after multiple reports of neglect and abuse, The Times previously reported. The department ignored the order.
He died less than two months later, right before his fifth birthday. His parents later pleaded no contest to murder and torture charges.
“He always begged me not to send him to his parents,” said Eva Hernandez, Noah’s great-grandmother. “I tried to explain to him so many times, but he didn’t understand. He’d take his little hands and look into my eyes and say, ‘Don’t make me go there.’”
Eva Hernandez cries while remembering her great-grandson Noah Cuatro as the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors prepares to approve a $20-million settlement to his family.
(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
Hernandez sued DCFS in 2020, alleging the department had failed her grandson and should have intervened to keep him safe. Cuatro had been under the supervision of the agency from the time he was born because his mother had been accused of fracturing his half sister’s skull.
The child welfare department said since Noah’s death they’ve hired thousands of social workers to decrease caseloads and retrained social workers on interviewing techniques and use of forensic exams.
“It is DCFS’ hope that this resolution gives Noah’s family a sense of peace,” the department said in a statement. “DCFS remains committed to learning from the past, improving its work, and operating with transparency.”
At the time of his death, Noah remained under supervision by DCFS despite more than a dozen reports to the child abuse hotline and police from callers who believed that he and his siblings were being abused.
Attorney Brian Claypool, who represented Cuatro’s family in the lawsuit, said Noah’s death was a direct result of the county failing to follow the court order to remove him from his parents. A Superior Court judge had agreed to remove him after a social worker filed a 26-page request with the court, citing evidence of abuse.
“The county really blew it with the removal order. There’s no excuse for them not to have picked up Noah,” Claypool said. “The most shocking, upsetting part of this case is when I took the deposition of the social worker in the case and the two supervisors, none of the individuals read the petition of all the abuse that was submitted to the court. That was inexcusable.”
Eva Hernandez holds a photo of her great-grandson Noah Cuatro.
(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
Noah’s parents initially called 911 on July 5, 2019, saying their son had drowned in a swimming pool of their apartment complex, but authorities grew suspicious after finding the boy unconscious and dry in the apartment. Doctors later found bruises across his body and signs of “mottling” around his neck.
County Supervisor Kathryn Barger, whose district includes Palmdale, called his death a “heartbreaking tragedy.”
“While nothing can undo the harm he suffered, today’s $20 million settlement awarded to his surviving siblings and grandmother provides some measure of support as they continue to heal,” she said in a statement. “Noah’s life was not in vain. His case has reinforced the need for ongoing review of child welfare cases, stronger partnerships with our schools, and a stabilized DCFS workforce to better protect children in the Antelope Valley. Noah leaves behind a legacy — he will not be forgotten.”
His great-grandmother, Hernandez, said she still thinks of him every day.
“I know that he’s not suffering anymore,” she said.
James E. Silcott, a trailblazing Los Angeles architect who, thanks to many gifts to his alma mater, Howard University, became the most generous benefactor to architecture students at historically Black colleges in the U.S., died July 17 in Washington, D.C. He was 95.
Silcott’s memorial service took place on Saturday at Howard; he will be laid to rest in L.A.’s Inglewood Park Cemetery on Sept. 6.
Silcott, who started in Los Angeles working for Gruen Associates alongside colleagues like Frank Gehry, made history as the first Black project architect for both Los Angeles County and UCLA. His successful legal battles with the county — he alleged that he had been unfairly terminated because of his race, and was later a victim of retribution for his lawsuit — shined a light on the entrenched barriers Black professionals faced in public institutions at the time.
Born Dec. 21, 1929, in Boston, to parents from the Caribbean island of Montserrat, Silcott grew up in the city’s Roxbury neighborhood during a time of limited opportunities for young Black people. Living in tenements and walk-ups, and making friends of all races and ethnicities, he learned self-reliance, resilience and cultural fluency, as he recounted in a 2007 oral history for Northeastern University’s Lower Roxbury Black History Project. After graduating high school, he worked as a hotel cook alongside his father. “I didn’t know what I wanted,” he said. But an aptitude test at a local YMCA pointed him toward architecture. After being rejected from several architecture schools, he received a lifeline via Howard University in Washington, D.C.
Silcott entered Howard — its architecture program was the first at a historically Black college to receive accreditation — in 1949. He came under the mentorship of Howard H. Mackey Sr., one of the most prominent Black architects and educators of the 20th century, known for instilling a sense of architecture’s civic purpose. Silcott’s studies were interrupted by three years in the U.S. Army during the Korean War, where he rose to the rank of sergeant. Returning to Howard, he earned his 5-year bachelor of architecture degree in 1957.
Those years were marked by constant financial strain — often forcing him, as he put it, to decide “whether to buy books or buy food” — an experience that would later drive him, as a donor to Howard, to ensure that future students wouldn’t face that choice. He would never forget the role Howard played for him.
“He felt like when nobody else would take him, Howard took him,” said his niece Julie Roberts. “He really credits them for laying the groundwork and setting the path and changing the trajectory of his life.”
Silcott began his career working for architect Arthur Cohen in Boston before moving to Los Angeles — he always hated the cold, said his friends and family — in 1958. Joining Gruen Associates, one of the era’s most influential firms, he, among other efforts, collaborated with Frank Gehry on the design of the Winrock Shopping Center in Albuquerque. He would soon work at UCLA’s architectural and engineering office, becoming the school’s first Black project lead on buildings like the UCLA Boathouse (1965), with its light-filled, maritime-inspired form — including porthole windows and an upper story deck for viewing races. Also at UCLA he collaborated with Welton Becket and Associates on the Jules Stein Eye Institute (1966), with its clean-lined facade of pale stone columns and glass walls that opened to natural light while maintaining shade and privacy.
He later joined Los Angeles County’s Department of Facilities Management, where he would become a senior architect and help oversee projects like the Inglewood Courts Building (1973, another collaboration with Becket) and Los Angeles County Southeast General Hospital (1971), eventually renamed Martin Luther King Jr. General Hospital. As the only Black architect working in the county, Silcott’s good friend (and fellow Howard architecture graduate) Melvin Mitchell said he was not always welcome. “None of those men could ever imagine someone of Silcott’s race or color wielding that kind of power, despite the phony smiles and benign language used,” Mitchell said in his eulogy at Howard.
At the end of the decade Silcott was demoted and later laid off during budget cuts — a move he contended was racially motivated. The county’s Civil Service Commission eventually agreed, ruling in 1984 that he had been improperly terminated in order to preserve the jobs of white employees with less seniority, and ordering that he be reinstated with full back pay. “I had to fight for my job just to make sure the rules were applied fairly,” Silcott told the Los Angeles Times.
Chief County Engineer Stephen J. Koonce, left, gestured as he discussed with James Silcott the details of the architect’s return to work, on March 15, 1984.
(Steve Fontanini / Los Angeles Times)
But the reinstatement was short-lived: within months, Silcott alleged that the county had retaliated by stripping away meaningful duties, among other retributions. “They had him working in a closet at one time,” said Roberts. Later that year, the Board of Supervisors approved a roughly $1 million settlement offer to resolve his federal discrimination lawsuit. The Times noted that his case had “become a rallying point” for those seeking greater equity in public employment. As Silcott later reflected, “This was never just about me. It was about making sure the next Black architect who comes along doesn’t have to fight the same battles.”
Silcott would later work as an architectural consultant to public agencies and universities while serving on several public boards, including the South Los Angeles Area Planning Commission, the Los Angeles Cultural Heritage Commission, the Los Angeles Board of Zoning Appeals and the California State Board of Architectural Examiners.
He built a stylish home in Windsor Hills, where he would regularly host family, not to mention mayors, council members, and, later, former President Obama, said Mitchell.
“He was always there to help. For advice, support, anything. Without hesitation he’d say, ‘I’ll do it.’ He just had that generous spirit.”
— Gail Kennard
In 1995 — retired as an architect — he took on minority ownership and a board seat at Kennard Design Group, one of the largest Black-owned architecture firms in the country, following the death of its founder (and Silcott’s good friend) Robert Kennard. “He didn’t hesitate,” said Gail Kennard, Robert’s daughter, who still leads the firm, and wanted to ensure the company’s stability at a difficult time. “He was always there to help. For advice, support, anything. Without hesitation he’d say, ‘I’ll do it.’ He just had that generous spirit.”
But Silcott’s greatest love, noted Kennard, was Howard — particularly its Department of Architecture — where he would go on to become a historically prolific philanthropist, and help mentor generations of aspiring architects.
“He would tell me stories about people who were coming up in the profession,” said Kennard. “He’d say, I found this new student and he or she’s my new project.”
Silcott’s ability to support the school financially grew out of skillful real estate investments, which began with a few buildings in Boston that he inherited from his mother. He managed and expanded numerous properties both in Boston and Los Angeles.
In 1991 he helped establish the James E. Silcott Fund, now valued at $250,000, offering emergency aid to Howard architecture students in financial distress. In 2002, he established the James E. Silcott Endowed Chair with an initial $1 million, bringing architects like Sir David Adjaye, Philip Freelon, Jack Travis and Roberta Washington to teach and mentor at Howard. And with a $1 million gift he funded the T. George Silcott Gallery, named for his late brother, providing a venue for exhibitions, critiques and public lectures. Silcott also made unrestricted contributions of hundreds of thousands more to Howard’s Department of Architecture, supporting scholarships, travel fellowships and capital improvements. By the end of his life, his contributions to Howard exceeded $3 million, making him, according to the school, the largest individual donor to architecture programs at historically Black colleges and universities in the country.
“Howard and its school of architecture was at the very center of his life,” said Mitchell, who noted Silcott’s gifts also helped keep the school afloat during difficult periods.
Silcott received the Howard University Alumni Achievement Award, the Centennial Professional Excellence Award and the Howard H. Mackey Dean’s Medal, named after his mentor. He also received the Kresge/Coca-Cola Award for philanthropy to HBCUs. In 2020, he was elevated to the AIA College of Fellows.
After a stroke in 2020, Silcott moved to Washington, D.C., to be under family care. He was placed in hospice in 2022, and put on a feeding tube, but lived three more years against the odds, noted Roberts, one of seven close nieces and nephews who called him “Uncle James.”
“He would not acknowledge that he wasn’t going to live forever,” said Roberts. Silcott remained engaged with Howard until his death.
California Atty. Gen. Rob Bonta said Wednesday he will ask a judge to allow the state to take control of L.A. County’s juvenile halls.
The move comes after years of failure to comply with court-ordered reforms that have been marked by riots, drug overdoses, allegations of child abuse and the death of a teenager.
In a statement, Bonta said he will ask a judge to place the county’s halls in “receivership,” meaning a court-appointed official would take over “management and operations of the juvenile halls” from the L.A. County Probation Department, including setting budgets and hiring and firing staff.
Bonta is expected to discuss the move at a news conference in downtown L.A. around 9:45 a.m. A probation department spokeswoman did not immediately respond to a request for comment.
The scandal-plagued halls have failed to see significant improvement under the probation department’s management. Two facilities were shut down in 2023 after repeatedly failing to meet basic standards to house youth under California law. That same year, 18-year-old Bryan Diaz died of a drug overdose at the Secure Youth Treatment Facility and reports of Xanax and opiate overdoses among youths in the halls have become a regular occurrence in recent months.
Nearly three dozen probation officers have been charged with crimes related to on-duty conduct in the past few years, including 30 indicted earlier this year by Bonta for staging or allowing so-called “gladiator fights” between juveniles in custody. Officers also routinely refuse to come to work, leaving each hall critically short-staffed.
“This drastic step to divest Los Angeles County of control over its juvenile halls is a last resort — and the only option left to ensure the safety and well-being of the youth currently in its care,” Bonta’s statement Wednesday said. “For four-and-a-half years, we’ve moved aggressively to bring the County into compliance with our judgment — and we’ve been met with glacial progress that has too often looked like one step forward and two steps back. Enough is enough. These young people deserve better, and my office will not stop until they get it.”
The California attorney general’s office began investigating L.A. County’s juvenile halls in 2018 and found probation officers were using pepper spray excessively, failing to provide proper programming, and detaining youths in solitary confinement in their rooms for far too long. A 2021 court settlement between L.A. County and the state attorney general’s office was aimed at improving conditions for youth and tamping down on use of force.
But the situation has seemingly only gotten worse in the last four years. Incidents in which staff use force against youths have increased over the life of the settlement, records show. The L.A. County inspector general’s office has published six reports showing the department has failed to meet the terms of the state oversight agreement. Oversight officials have caught several probation officers lying about violent incidents in the halls after reviewing video footage that contradicted written reports.
After the state shut down the county’s other two major detention centers, Los Padrinos Juvenile Hall in Downey was reopened but quickly became a haven for chaos. In its first month of operation, there was a riot and an escape attempt and someone brought a gun inside the youth hall.
Late last year, California’s Board of State and Community Corrections ordered Los Padrinos closed too after it failed repeated inspections, but Probation Chief Guillermo Viera Rosa ignored the order, leading some to call on Bonta to intervene. Eventually, an L.A. County judge ordered the probation department to begin emptying Los Padrinos until it came back into compliance with state standards.
This week, reality TV show star Spencer Pratt posted multiple videos on social media savaging a proposed state bill on wildfire rebuilding. In one, Pratt told his 2 million TikTok followers that he consulted an artificial intelligence engine about Senate Bill 549. He said it told him the legislation would allow L.A. County to buy burned-out lots in Pacific Palisades and convert them to low-income housing, strip away local zoning decisions and push dense reconstruction. He urged people to oppose it.
“I don’t even think this is political,” Pratt said. “This is a common sense post.”
None of what Pratt said is in the bill. But over the last week, such misinformation-fueled furor has overwhelmed the conversation in Los Angeles, at the state Capitol and on social media about wildfire recovery. Posts have preyed on fears of neighborhood change, mistrust of government authorities and prejudice against low-income housing to assert, among other things, that the wildfires were set intentionally to raze the Palisades and replace the community with affordable housing.
The chatter has unmoored debate over a major rebuilding proposal from L.A. County leaders. Under the plan, a new local authority would be able to buy burned lots, rebuild homes and offer them back at discounted rates to the original owners. The idea is to give property owners struggling to rebuild another option to stay in their communities. There are no changes to any rules that require zoning amendments or approvals for individual housing developments.
State Sen. Benjamin Allen (D-Santa Monica), the author of SB 549, which creates the local authority, said he understands legitimate policy disagreements over the new powers granted in the bill.
But those discussions have been overshadowed, he said.
“It’s become this total meme among the right-wing blogosphere and, unfortunately, picked up by some lazy-ass journalists that don’t bother to read the bill that say this bill seeks to turn the entire Palisades into low-income housing,” Allen said.
Some of his own friends who lost homes in the Palisades, Allen said, have been texting him asking why he’s trying to force low-income housing into the neighborhood.
“People are saying I want to put a train line in there,” Allen said. “It’s insane.”
The frenzy, in part, is due to an issue of timing. Last month, a 20-member expert commission impaneled by L.A. County proposed the local authority as a key recommendation for rebuilding after January’s Palisades and Eaton fires destroyed 18,000 homes and other properties.
Commission leaders then approached Allen about writing a bill that would allow for its implementation. Allen wanted to do it, but deadlines for introducing new legislation had long passed.
Instead, Allen took SB 549, which had nothing to do with wildfire rebuilding but was still alive in the Legislature, and added the rebuilding authority language to it. This is a common legislative procedure used when putting forward ideas late in the year.
Allen decided as well to keep the original language in the bill, which called for significant spending on low-income housing in an unrelated financing program. Multiple news articles conflated the two portions of the bill, which added to the alarm.
The version of SB 549 with the wildfire rebuilding authority in it had its first hearing in a legislative committee on Wednesday. Allen spent much of the hearing acknowledging the confusion around it.
State housing officials carved out $101 million from long-planned funding allocations for low-income housing and dedicated it to building new developments in Los Angeles.
The money will be used to subsidize low-income apartment buildings throughout the county with priority given to projects proposed in and around burn zones, that are willing to reserve a portion to fire survivors and are close to breaking ground.
“Thousands of families — from Pacific Palisades to Altadena to Malibu — are still displaced and we owe it to them to help,” Newsom said when unveiling the spending.
Like the proposed rebuilding authority, the funding does not change any zoning or other land-use rules. Any developer who receives the dollars would need separate governmental approval to begin construction.
Nevertheless, social media posters took the new money and the proposed new authority and saw a conspiracy.
Newsom called the situation another example of “opportunists exploit[ing] this tragedy to stoke fear — and pit communities against each other.”
“Let’s be clear: The state is not taking away anyone’s property, instituting some sort of mass rezoning or destroying the quality and character of destroyed neighborhoods. Period,” Newsom said in a statement to The Times. “Anyone claiming otherwise is either misinformed or deliberately lying. That’s not just wrong — it’s disgraceful.”
Not all of the debate about the rebuilding authority is based on false information.
Allen and local leaders acknowledged the need for more consensus over its role, especially given the sensitivities around recovery. Still unresolved were the authority’s governing structure, and whether it would encompass the Palisades or be limited to Altadena and other unincorporated areas.
Pratt lost his Palisades home in the fire and has sued the city, alleging it failed to maintain an adequate water supply and other infrastructure. In social media videos this week, Pratt said he and other residents didn’t trust the county with increased power over rebuilding when he believed leaders failed to protect the neighborhood in the first place.
“We’re a fire-stricken community, not a policy sandbox,” Pratt said. “We do not support the county becoming a dominant landowner in the Palisades.”
Representatives for Pratt could not be reached for comment.
By the end of Wednesday, Allen conceded defeat on SB 549. There were many legitimate hurdles to the bill passing before the Legislature adjourns in mid-September, he said. Notably, a representative for Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass told the legislative committee that she was opposed to the bill because the city had yet to be convinced of its efficacy.
But the misinformation surrounding the bill made it even harder to envision its success, he said. Allen decided to hold the bill and have it reconsidered when the Legislature convenes again in January.
“If we’re going to do this, I want the time to do it right,” he said.
Roozbeh Farahanipour sat in the blue-green glow of his Westwood restaurant’s 220-gallon saltwater aquarium and worried about Iran, his voice accented in anguish.
It was Sunday morning, and the homeland he fled a quarter-century ago had been bombed by the U.S. military, escalating a conflict that began nine days earlier when Israel sprang a surprise attack on its perennial Middle Eastern foe.
“Anger and hate for the Iranian regime — I have it, but I try to manage it,” said Farahanipour, owner of Delphi Greek restaurant and two other nearby eateries. “I don’t think that anything good will come out of this. If, for any reason, the regime is going to be changed, either we’re facing another Iraq or Afghanistan, or we’re going to see the Balkans situation. Iran is going to be split in pieces.”
Farahanipour, 53, who’d been a political activist before fleeing Iran, rattled off a series of questions as a gray-colored shark made lazy loops in the tank behind him. What might happen to civilians in Iran if the U.S. attack triggers a more widespread war? What about the potential loss of Israeli lives? And Americans, too? After wrestling with those weighty questions, he posed a more workaday one: “What’s gonna be the gas price tomorrow?”
Such is life for Iranian Americans in Los Angeles, a diaspora that comprises the largest Iranian community outside of Iran. Farahanipour, like other Iranian Americans interviewed by The Times, described “very mixed and complicated” feelings over the crisis in Iran, which escalated early Sunday when the U.S. struck three nuclear sites there, joining an Israeli effort to disrupt the country’s quest for an atomic weapon.
About 141,000 Iranian Americans live in L.A. County, according to the Iranian Data Dashboard, which is hosted by the UCLA Center for Near Eastern Studies. The epicenter of the community is Westwood, where the neighborhood’s namesake boulevard is speckled with storefronts covered in Persian script.
On Sunday morning, reaction to news of the conflict was muted in an area nicknamed “Tehrangeles” — a reference to Iran’s capital — after it welcomed Iranians who emigrated to L.A. during the 1979 Islamic Revolution. In some stores and restaurants, journalists from CNN, Spectrum News and other outlets outnumbered Iranian patrons. At Attari Sandwich Shop, known for its beef tongue sandwich, the pre-revolution Iranian flag hung near the cash register — but none of the diners wanted to give an interview.
“No thank you; [I’m] not really political,” one middle-aged guest said with a wry smile.
Kevan Harris, an associate professor of sociology at UCLA, said that any U.S. involvement in a military conflict with Iran is freighted with meaning, and has long been the subject of hand-wringing.
“This scenario — which seems almost fantastical in a way — is something that has been in the imagination: the United States is going to bomb Iran,” said Harris, an Iranian American who wrote the book “A Social Revolution: Politics and the Welfare State in Iran.” “For 20 years, this is something that has been regularly discussed.”
Many emigres find themselves torn between deep dislike and resentment of the authoritarian government they fled, and concern about the family members left behind. Some in Westwood were willing to chat.
A woman who asked to be identified only as Mary, out of safety concerns for her family in Iran, said she had emigrated five years ago and was visiting L.A. with her husband. The Chicago resident said that the last week and a half have been very difficult, partly because many in her immediate family, including her parents, still live in Tehran. They recently left the city for another location in Iran due to the ongoing attacks by Israeli forces.
“I am talking to them every day,” said Mary, 35.
Standing outside Shater Abbass Bakery & Market — whose owner also has hung the pre-1979 Iranian flag — Mary said she was “hopeful and worried.”
“It’s a very confusing feeling,” she said. “Some people, they are happy because they don’t like the government — they hate the government.” Others, she said, are upset over the destruction of property and death of civilians.
Mary had been planning to visit her family in Iran in August, but that’s been scrambled. “Now, I don’t know what I should do,” she said.
Not far from Westwood, Beverly Hills’ prominent Iranian Jewish community was making its presence felt. On Sunday morning, Shahram Javidnia, 62, walked near a group of pro-Israel supporters who were staging a procession headed toward the city’s large “Beverly Hills” sign. One of them waved an Israeli flag.
Javidnia, an Iranian Jew who lives in Beverly Hills and opposes the government in Iran, said he monitors social media, TV and radio for news of the situation there.
“Now that they’re in a weak point,” he said of Iran’s authoritarian leadership, “that’s the time maybe for the Iranians to rise up and try to do what is right.”
Javidnia came to the U.S. in 1978 as a teenager, a year before revolution would lead to the overthrow of the shah and establishment of the Islamic Republic. He settled in the L.A. area, and hasn’t been back since. He said returning is not something he even thinks about.
“The place that I spent my childhood is not there anymore,” he said. “It doesn’t exist.”
Los Angeles County is poised to pay nearly $2.7 million to a teenager whose violent beating at a juvenile hall launched a sprawling criminal investigation into so-called “gladiator fights” inside the troubled facility.
Video of the December 2023 beating, captured on CCTV, showed Jose Rivas Barillas, then 16, being pummeled by six juveniles at Los Padrinos Juvenile Hall as probation officers stood idly by. Each youth attacked Rivas Barillas for a few seconds before returning to breakfast. Two officers, later identified as longtime probation officials Taneha Brooks and Shawn Smyles, laughed and shook hands, encouraging the brawl.
“What made this unique is the video,” said Rivas Barillas’ attorney, Jamal Tooson, who said his client suffered a broken nose and traumatic brain injury. “The entire world got to witness the brutality that’s taking place with our children at the hands of the Los Angeles County Probation Department.”
The video, first reported by The Times, prompted a criminal investigation by the state attorney general’s office, which later charged 30 probation officers — including Brooks and Smyles — with allowing and encouraging fights among teens inside county juvenile halls. California Atty. Gen. Rob Bonta referred to the coordinated brawls as “gladiator fights” and said his office’s CCTV review had turned up 69 such fights during the chaotic first six months after the hall opened in July 2023.
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Footage obtained by the L.A. Times shows a December 2023 incident in which staffers can be seen allowing at least six youths to hit and kick a 17-year-old.
On Tuesday, the Board of Supervisors will vote on whether to approve the $2.67-million settlement to Rivas Barillas and his mother, Heidi Barillas Lemus.
According to a public summary of the “corrective action plan” that the Probation Department must produce before a large settlement, officials failed to review CCTV video of the fight and waited too long to transport the teen to a hospital and notify his family.
CCTV monitors are now “staffed routinely,” and officials are working on conducting random audits of the recordings, according to the plan. A spokesperson for the Probation Department did not respond to a request for comment.
Immediately after Rivas Barillas arrived at the Downey juvenile hall, Brooks demanded to know his gang affiliation, according to the claim filed with the county. Brooks said she had heard that Rivas Barillas, who is Latino, was from the “Canoga” gang and that she “hoped he could fight” before directing the other juveniles, all of whom were Black, to attack him in the day room, the claim stated.
After the video made headlines, accounts of teens forced by probation officers to fight have trickled out of Los Padrinos. A teen told The Times in March that officers at Los Padrinos rewarded him with a fast-food “bounty” — In-N-Out, Jack in the Box, McDonald’s — if he beat up kids who misbehaved. The teenager, who had previously been housed in the same unit as Rivas Barillas, said staffers would also organize fights when someone arrived who was thought to be affiliated with a gang that didn’t get along with the youths inside.
“We get a new kid, he’s from the hood. We have other hoods in here. We’re going to get all the fights out of the way,” he said at the time. “They were just setting it up to control the situation.”
Another teenager, identified in court filings as John (Lohjk) Doe, alleged in a lawsuit filed in February that soon after arriving at Los Padrinos in 2024, he was escorted by an officer to the day room. The officer, identified only by the surname Santos, told a youth inside the day room that “you have eleven (11) seconds” and watched as the youth attacked Doe, according to the lawsuit.
On another occasion, the same officer threatened to pepper-spray Doe if he didn’t fight another youth for 20 seconds. The teens who fought were rewarded with extra television and more time out of their cells, the suit alleged.
After the teen told a female officer about the two coordinated brawls, he was transferred to solitary confinement, the suit alleged.
Times staff writer James Queally contributed to this report.
A growing coalition of HIV prevention organizations, health experts and Democrats in Congress are sounding the alarm over sweeping Trump administration cuts to HIV/AIDS prevention and surveillance programs nationally, warning they will reverse years of progress combating the disease and cause spikes in new cases — especially in California and among the LGBTQ+ community.
In a letter addressed Friday to Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Rep. Laura Friedman (D-Glendale) and 22 of her House colleagues demanded the release of HIV funding allocated by Congress but withheld by the Trump administration. They cited estimates from the Foundation for AIDS Research, known as amfAR, that the cuts could lead to 143,000 additional HIV infections nationwide and 127,000 additional deaths from AIDS-related causes within five years.
Friedman said the effects would be felt in communities small and large across the country but that California would be hit the hardest. She said L.A. County — which stands to lose nearly $20 million in annual federal HIV prevention funding — is being forced to terminate contracts with 39 providers and could see as many as 650 new cases per year as a result.
According to amfAR, that would mark a huge increase, pushing the total number of new infections per year in the county to roughly 2,000.
“South L.A. and communities across California are already feeling the devastating impacts of these withheld HIV prevention funds. These cuts aren’t just numbers — they’re shuttered clinics, canceled programs, and lives lost,” Friedman said in a statement to The Times.
As one example, she said, the Los Angeles LGBT Center — which is headquartered in her district — would likely have to eliminate a range of services including HIV testing, STD screening, community education and assistance for patients using pre-exposure prophylaxis, or PrEP, a medicine taken by pill or shot that can greatly reduce a person’s risk of becoming infected from sex or injection drug use.
A list reviewed by The Times of L.A. County providers facing funding cuts included large and small organizations and medical institutions in a diverse set of communities, from major hospitals and nonprofits to small clinics. The list was provided by a source on the condition of anonymity in order to be candid about the funding of organizations that have not all publicly announced the cuts.
The affected organizations serve a host of communities that already struggle with relatively high rates of HIV infection, including low-income, Spanish speaking, Black and brown and LGBTQ+ communities.
According to L.A. County, the Trump administration’s budget blueprint eliminates or reduces a number of congressionally authorized public health programs, including funding cuts to the domestic HIV prevention program and the Ryan White program, which supports critical care and treatment services for uninsured and underinsured people living with HIV.
The county said the cuts would have “an immediate and long-lasting impact” on community health.
Dozens of organizations and hospitals, such as Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles, are bracing for the disruption and potential vacuum of preventative services they’ve been providing to the community since the 1980s, according to Claudia Borzutzky, the hospital’s Chief of Adolescent and Young Adult Medicine.
Borzutzky said without the funding, programs that provide screening, education, patient navigation and community outreach — especially for at-risk adolescents and young adults — will evaporate. So, too, will free services that help patients enroll in insurance and access HIV prevention medications.
Patients who “face a variety of health barriers” and are often stigmatized will bear the brunt, she said, losing the “role models [and] peer educators that they can relate to and help [them] build confidence to come into a doctor’s office and seek testing and treatment.”
“We are having to sunset these programs really, really quickly, which impacts our patients and staff in really dramatic ways,” she said.
Answers to queries sent to other southern California health departments suggested they are trying to figure out how to cope with budget shortfalls, too. Health officials from Kern, San Bernardino and Riverside counties all said the situation is uncertain, and that they don’t yet know how they will respond.
Friedman and her colleagues — including fellow California representatives Nancy Pelosi, Judy Chu, Gilbert Cisneros Jr., Robert Garcia, Sam Liccardo, Kevin Mullin, Mark Takano, Derek Tran and George Whitesides — said they were concerned not only about funding for programs nationwide being cut, but also about the wholesale dismantling or defunding of important divisions working on HIV prevention within the federal government.
They questioned in their letter staffing cuts to the National Center for HIV, Viral Hepatitis, STD, and Tuberculosis Prevention at the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, as well as “the reported elimination” of the Division of HIV Prevention within that center.
In addition to demanding the release of funds already allocated by Congress, the representatives called on Kennedy — and Dr. Debra Houry, deputy director of the CDC — to better communicate the status of ongoing grant funding, and to release “a list of personnel within CDC who can provide timely responses” when those groups to whom Congress had already allocated funding have questions moving forward.
“Although Congress has appropriated funding for HIV prevention in Fiscal Year 2025, several grant recipients have failed to receive adequate communication from CDC regarding the status of their awards,” Friedman and her colleagues wrote. “This ambiguity has caused health departments across the country to pre-emptively terminate HIV and STD prevention contracts with local organizations due to an anticipated lack of funding.”
The letter is just the latest challenge to the Trump administration’s sweeping cuts to federal agencies and to federal funding allocated by Congress to organizations around the country.
Through a series of executive orders and with the help of his billionaire adviser Elon Musk’s “Department of Government Efficiency” and other agency heads, Trump in the first months of his second term has radically altered the federal government’s footprint, laying off thousands of federal workers and attempting to claw back trillions of dollars in federal spending — to be reallocated to projects more aligned with his political agenda, or used to pay for tax cuts that Democrats and independent reviewers have said will disproportionately help wealthy Americans.
LGBTQ+ organizations also have sued the Trump administration over orders to preclude health and other organizations from spending federal funding on diversity, equity and inclusion programs geared toward LGBTQ+ populations, including programs designed to decrease new HIV infections and increase healthy management of the disease among transgender people and other vulnerable groups.
“The orders seek to erase transgender people from public life; dismantle diversity, equity, inclusion, and accessibility initiatives; and strip funding from nonprofits providing life-saving health care, housing, and support services,” said Jose Abrigo, the HIV Project Director of Lambda Legal, in a statement. The legal group has filed a number of lawsuits challenging the Trump administration cuts, including one on behalf of the San Francisco AIDS Foundation and other nonprofits.
Trump has defended his cuts to the federal government as necessary to implement his agenda. He and his agency leaders have consistently said that the cuts target waste, fraud and abuse in the government, and that average Americans will be better served following the reshuffling.
Kennedy has consistently defended the changes within Health and Human Services, as well. Agency spokespeople have said the substantial cuts would help it focus on Kennedy’s priorities of “ending America’s epidemic of chronic illness by focusing on safe, wholesome food, clean water, and the elimination of environmental toxins.”
“We aren’t just reducing bureaucratic sprawl. We are realigning the organization with its core mission and our new priorities in reversing the chronic disease epidemic,” Kennedy has said. “This Department will do more — a lot more — at a lower cost to the taxpayer.”
Kennedy has repeatedly spread misinformation about HIV and AIDS in the past, including by giving credence to the false claim that HIV does not cause AIDS.
As recently as June 2023, Kennedy told a reporter for New York Magazine that there “are much better candidates than H.I.V. for what causes AIDS,” and he has previously suggested that environmental toxins and “poppers” — an inhalant drug popular in the gay community — could be causes of AIDS instead.
None of that is supported by science or medicine. Studies from around the world have proven the link between HIV and AIDS, and found it — not drug use or sexual behavior — to be the only common factor in AIDS cases.
Officials in L.A. County said they remained hopeful that the Trump administration would reverse course after considering the effects of the cuts — and the “detrimental impacts on the health and well-being of residents and workers across” the county if they are allowed to stand.
When the world calls you “Little Al,” you’re going to do what it takes to be seen.
That’s what I thought after spending an hour last week at the Porsche Experience Center in Carson with the city’s former mayor, Albert Robles.
He’s not the Albert Robles who was found guilty 19 years ago of fleecing South Gate out of $20 million as treasurer — that’s Big Al Robles. Little Al is the one who has tried to be a political somebody in L.A. County for over 30 years, only to almost always fall short, his career careening from one controversy to another.
In 2006, he represented three men who moved to Vernon in an attempt to take over the City Council; they all lost. That same year, Little Al represented Big Al — no, they’re not actually related — at the latter’s sentencing and argued that his client deserved leniency since what he did was common in California politics. The presiding judge replied, “What you have just said is among the most absurd things I have ever heard.”
Then-Carson Mayor Al Robles during a Carson City Council meeting at City Hall in 2015.
(Los Angeles Times)
The year after he was elected Carson’s mayor in 2015, the Fair Political Practices Commission fined Robles $12,000 to resolve allegations of campaign finance law violations. Two years after that, Robles’ 24-year tenure on the board of directors for Water Replenishment District of Southern California — an obscure agency that provides water for 44 cities in L.A. County — ended after a Superior Court judge ruled he couldn’t hold that seat at the same time that he was serving as mayor.
He lost the mayoral seat in the 2020 general election after striking out in his bid for county supervisor in the primary election earlier that year. Robles has been unsuccessful in two other races since — for an L.A. County Superior Court seat in 2022, and a state Senate primary last year where he garnered just 8.5% of the vote.
“I keep thinking I’m done and then I’m not done,” the 56-year-old joked at one point in our conversation as Caymans and Carreras roared through the test track as we lounged in a nearby patio. “It’s kind of like they dragged me back in.”
“Whether or not she lives in [Huntington Park], whether or not she’s an angel, whether or not she’s Charles Manson, that doesn’t matter: She was denied the process that all of us are entitled to,” Robles said.
Um, Manson?
He’s also representing another former Huntington Park council member, Valentin Amezquita, in another lawsuit against the city. That one demands the city hold a special election for Castillo’s former seat, which Amezquita unsuccessfully applied for.
Wait, aren’t the lawsuits contradicting each other?
A judge told him the same thing, Robles admitted. He told me he filed them to expose what he described as Huntington Park’s “hypocrisy” for supposedly following the city charter over the Castillo matter, but ignoring it when choosing her replacement.
“It’s just like what’s happening at the federal level, as far as I see it,” Robles grumbled. Earlier, he compared the lack of due process Castillo allegedly faced to Kilmar Abrego Garcia, the Salvadoran national illegally deported by the Trump administration to his home country. “It’s frustrating.”
The more he talked, the more it became evident Robles wants to be seen as the crusader he’s always imagined himself to be and is annoyed that he’s not.
Carson Mayor Albert Robles speaks during a hearing about a proposed $480-million desalination plant in El Segundo in 2019 at the Carson Event Center.
(Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times)
His grievances are many.
He continues to hold a grudge against former L.A. County Dist. Atty. Steve Cooley, whom he described as “corrupt … and I’ll call him that to his face.” Cooley, for his part, told The Times in 2013 that when Robles unsuccessfully ran against him in 2008, he was “probably the most unqualified candidate ever” because of his political past.
Robles bragged that he torpedoed Cooley’s career.
“It’s an exaggeration — over-embellishment — on my part, but I actually take credit for” Cooley losing his 2010 bid to become California attorney general. “Because when I ran against him, I caused him to spend money — money that he otherwise would have had for the AG race. And if [Cooley] had that additional half a million dollars that he had to spend for the DA race, he may have won.”
He thinks Latino politicians need to close ranks like he feels other ethnicities do.
Case in point: Operation Dirty Pond, an L.A. County district attorney probe into a long-delayed Huntington Park aquatic park. In February, investigators raided City Hall and the homes of seven individuals, including two former council members and two current ones. Robles said the probe doesn’t “make sense” and is further proof that Latino politicians are held to a higher standard than other politicians.
“If Esmeralda were Black or Asian, or hell — dare I say — even white, I think it would be reported differently. I honestly believe that. Because those communities are willing to set aside their differences for the better good, because they know that, hey, if one person is being mistreated, we all are.”
Once he realized I wanted to discuss his own political travails as much as of his clients, Robles said the better setting for our chat would’ve been the Albert Robles Center, a water treatment center in Pico Rivera that opened in 2019.
“That structure, you know, everyone loves it now. Everyone celebrates that it’s there. But surprise, surprise: not one environmental group, not one came out and supported our effort to build it up. … Nobody fought more for that building, for that project, than me.”
This set off more grievances.
Robles was bitter that L.A.’s “Latino power elite” hadn’t listened to him and invested more time and effort in the South Bay, where Latinos make up a majority of the population in many cities but have little political representation.
“They just see us as differently and the resources to organize and build up that political power base never materialized,” he said. “I don’t know if they see it as ‘Oh, those are more affluent communities, they don’t need our help.’ I don’t know.”
He was also “disheartened” by Black residents that opposed district elections in Carson that would have probably brought more Latinos onto the council. They were introduced in 2020 after a lawsuit alleged Latino voters were disenfranchised in the city. Since then, there hasn’t been a Latino elected to the City Council.
“We would have members of the African American community come up and say, ‘Well, we have a Latino mayor. We don’t need districts. Latinos should vote — stop speaking Spanish, and learn to vote.’ And then I would say, ‘You know, everything you’re saying is what whites said about Blacks in the South. And they’re like, ‘That’s not true.’ So, like, some forgot their history and now we seem to have fallen into the politics of, ‘If it’s not us, it can’t be them.’”
We climbed upstairs to the Porsche Experience Center’s viewing deck so Robles could pose for photos. Workers at the venue’s restaurant greeted him, drawing the first genuine smile Robles had flashed all afternoon.
He then mentioned that somewhere in the building was his name. I thought it would be on a plaque commemorating the debut of the Porsche Experience Center in 2016, when Robles was mayor. But it turned out to be his John Hancock alongside a bunch of others on a whiteboard in a room facing the parking lot.
The room was locked.
Robles wondered out loud if he should ask the staff to open it so we could take a better look. Instead, we peered through a window.
“It’s right there,” he told me, trying to describe where exactly it was among all the other signatures. “Well, you’re not familiar with it so you probably can’t see it.”
The investigation was launched by Garcia and more than a dozen members of L.A.’s congressional delegation in February after L.A. County sent a series of faulty evacuation alerts on Jan. 9, urging people across a metropolitan region of 10 million to prepare to evacuate. The faulty alerts came two days after intense firestorms erupted in Pacific Palisades and Altadena.
The alerts, which were intended for a small group of residents near Calabasas, stoked panic and confusion as they were blasted out repeatedly to communities as far as 40 miles away from the evacuation area.
The new report, “Sounding the Alarm: Lessons From the Kenneth Fire False Alerts,” alleged that a technical flaw by Genasys, the software company contracted with the county to issue wireless emergency alerts, caused the faulty alert to ping across the sprawling metro region.
It also found that, contrary to accounts of L.A. County officials at the time, multiple echo alerts then went out as cellphone providers experienced overload due to the high volume and long duration of the alerts. Confusion was compounded, the report said, by L.A. County’s vague wording of the original alert.
“It’s clear that there’s still so much reform needed, so that we have operating systems that people can rely on and trust in the future,” Garcia told The Times.
The Times was reaching out to Genasys and county officials for response to the report.
A Long Beach Democrat who sits on the U.S. House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform, Garcia said the stakes were incredibly high.
“We’re talking about loss of life and property, and people’s confidence in our emergency notification systems,” he said. “People need to be able to trust that if there’s a natural disaster, that they’re going to get an alert and it’s going to have correct information, and we have to provide that level of security and comfort across the country.”
To improve emergency warning alert systems, the report urges Congress and the federal government to “act now to close gaps in alerting system performance, certification, and public communication.”
“The lessons from the Kenneth Fire should not only inform reforms,” the report states, “but serve as a catalyst to modernize the nation’s alerting infrastructure before the next disaster strikes.”
The report makes several recommendations. It calls for more federal funding for planning, equipment, training and system maintenance on the Federal Emergency Management Agency’s Integrated Public Alert & Warning System, the national system that provides emergency public alerts through mobile phones using Wireless Emergency Alerts and to radio and television via the Emergency Alert System.
It also urges FEMA to fully complete minimum requirements and improve training to IPAWS that Congress mandated in 2019 after the Hawaii Emergency Management Agency sent out a false warning of an incoming missile attack to millions of residents and vacationers. Five years after Congress required “the standardization, functionality, and interoperability of incident management and warning tools,” the report said, FEMA has yet to finish implementing certification programs for users and third-party software providers. The agency plans to pilot a third-party technology certification program this year.
The report also presses the Federal Communications Commission to establish performance standards and develop measurable goals and monitoring for WEA performance, and ensure mobile providers include location-aware maps by the December 2026 deadline.
But the push for greater oversight is certain to be a challenge at a time when President Trump and U.S. Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem are pushing for FEMA to be dismantled.
In the last few days, the Trump administration fired FEMA’s acting head, Cameron Hamilton, after he told U.S. lawmakers he does not support eliminating the agency. Noem told U.S. Congress members at a hearing last week that Trump believes the agency has “failed the American people, and that FEMA, as it exists today, should be eliminated in empowering states to respond to disasters with federal government support.”
Garcia described the Trump administration’s dismantling of FEMA as “very concerning.”
“We need to have stable FEMA leadership,” Garcia told The Times. “The recent reshuffling and changes that are happening, I hope, do not get in the way of actually making these systems stronger. We need stability at FEMA. We need FEMA to continue to exist. … The sooner that we get the investments in, the sooner that we complete these studies, I think the more safe people are going to feel.”
Garcia said his office was working on drafting legislation that could address some of these issues.
“We really need to push FEMA and we need to push the administration — and Congress absolutely has a role in making sure these systems are stronger,” Garcia said. “Ensuring that we fully fund these systems is critical. … There’s dozens of these systems, and yet there’s no real kind of centralized rules that are modern.”
According to FEMA, more than 40 different commercial providers work in the emergency alert market. But further steps need to be taken, an agency official said, to train local emergency managers and regulate the private software companies and wireless providers that play a pivotal role in safeguarding millions of Americans during severe wildfires, hurricanes, tornadoes, floods and active shooter incidents.
“Ongoing efforts are needed to increase training with alerting authorities, enhance standardization with service providers, and further collaboration with wireless providers to improve the delivery of Wireless Emergency Alerts to the public,” Thomas Breslin, acting associate administrator of FEMA’s Office of National Continuity Programs, said in a letter to Garcia.
Genasys, a San Diego-based company, said in a recent SEC filing that its “ALERT coverage has expanded into cities and counties in 39 states.” “The vast majority of California” is covered by its EVAC system, it said, which continues “to grow into the eastern United States, with covered areas expanding into Texas, South Carolina, and Tennessee.”
Genasys also noted that its ALERT system is an “interactive, cloud-based” software service, raising the possibility of communication disruption. “The information technology systems we and our vendors use are vulnerable to outages, breakdowns or other damage or interruption from service interruptions, system malfunction, natural disasters, terrorism, war, and telecommunication and electrical failures,” it said in its SEC filing.
As part of its investigation into how evacuation warnings were accidentally sent to nearly 10 million L.A. County residents during the L.A. fires, Garcia received responses from Genasys, L.A. County, FEMA and the FCC.
The report said a L.A. County emergency management worker saved an alert correctly with a narrowly defined polygon in the area near the Kenneth fire. But the software did not upload the correct evacuation area polygon to IPAWS, possibly due to a network disruption, the report said. The Genasys system also did not warn the L.A. County emergency management staffer that drafted the alert a targeted polygon was missing in the IPAWS channel before it sent the message, the report found.
Genasys has since added safeguards to its software, but the report noted that Genasys did not provide details about the incident. . It suggested the independent after-action review into the Eaton and Palisades fire response “further investigate Genasys’ claims of what caused the error, and how a network disruption would have occurred or could have blocked the proper upload of a polygon into the IPAWS distribution channel.”
The report commended L.A. County for responding quickly in canceling the alert within 2 minutes and 47 seconds and issuing a corrected message about 20 minutes later, stating the alert was sent “in ERROR.”
But it also criticized the county’s wording of the original alert as vague. Some confusion could have been avoided, it said, if the emergency management staffer who wrote the alert had described the area with more geographic specificity and included timestamps.
The report also found that a series of false echo alerts that went out over the next few days were not caused by cellphone towers coming back online after being knocked down because of the fires, as L.A. County emergency management officials reported. Instead, they were caused by cellphone networks’ technical issues.
One cellphone company attributed the duplicate alerts to a result of “overload, due to high volume and long duration of alerts sent during fires.” While the report said the company installed a temporary patch and was developing a permanent repair, it is unclear if other networks have enabled safeguards to make sure they do not face similar problems.
The report did not delve into the critical delays in electronic emergency alerts sent to areas of Altadena. When flames erupted from Eaton Canyon on Jan. 7, neighborhoods on the east side of Altadena got evacuation orders at 7:26 p.m., but residents to the west did not receive orders until 3:25 a.m. — hours after fires began to destroy their neighborhoods. Seventeen of the 18 people confirmed dead in the Eaton fire were on the west side.
Garcia told The Times that the problems in Altadena appeared to be due to human error, rather than technical errors with emergency alert software. Garcia said he and other L.A. Congress members were anxious to read the McChrystal Group’s after-action review of the response to the Eaton and Palisades fires.
Local, state and federal officials all shared some blame for the problems with alerts in the L.A. fire, Garcia said. Going forward, Congress should press the federal government, he said, to develop a reliable regulatory system for alerts.
“When you have so many operators and you don’t have these IPAWS requirements in place, that is concerning,” Garcia said. “We should have a standard that’s federal, that’s clear.”
Garcia told The Times that emergency alerts were not just a Southern California issue.
“These systems are used around the country,” he said. “This can impact any community, and so it’s in everyone’s best interests to move forward and to work with FEMA, to work with the FCC, to make sure that we make these adjustments and changes. I think it’s very critical.”
Times staff writer Paige St. John contributed to this report.
