mother

A brother of veteran NFL star Calais Campbell has been charged with the murder of their mother in her Atlanta home on Tuesday.

Ciarre Campbell, one of the Baltimore Ravens defensive end’s seven siblings, faces two counts of murder as well as aggravated assault, and possession of a knife during the commission of a felony in connection with the death of his 71-year-old mother Nateal Campbell, according to the affidavits for his arrest issued by the magistrate court of Fulton County, Ga.

“We are devastated to share that the Campbell Family has lost its matriarch, Mrs. Nateal Campbell,” the family said in a statement. “While the details of her passing are still being investigated, we take comfort in knowing she is reunited with our father, her beloved Chuck, and in the arms of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We ask for privacy at this time so that we may honor her and share in our overwhelming grief privately and as a family.”

According to the Atlanta Police Department, officers responded Tuesday at around 12:36 p.m. to a welfare check at Nateal Campbell’s address. They found a male, later identified as Ciarre Campbell, 41, who “appeared to have barricaded himself inside the home.”

Nateal Campbell was found unresponsive inside the home and was pronounced dead at the scene by EMS services. Ciarre Campbell was detained by the officers and transported to the Fulton County Jail, where he was held without bond. He waived his initial court hearing Wednesday.

A booking photo of Ciarre Campbell provided by the Fulton County Sheriff’s Office on Wednesday.

(Fulton County Sheriff’s Office Via Associated Press)

WSB-TV in Atlanta reports that Ciarre Campbell is being represented by defense attorney Jay Abt, who told the station that his client is innocent.

“We look forward to his day in court,” Abt said. “I’m honored to defend him and, most importantly, the Campbell family.”

In a 911 call released by police, a man said he was calling for authorities to check on his mother at her house. He said he was there with his sister and brother-in-law but they couldn’t get inside. According to the caller, his brother — whom the caller says is “mentally ill” — had been staying at the house and was seen driving their mother’s car, “which is very unusual [because] he doesn’t drive at all.”

The caller said his brother was inside the house and told them their mother had left, even though video footage from a neighbor showed that wasn’t the case.

The affidavit for arrest stated that Ciarre Campbell created “incisions upon the victim’s neck causing her to be nearly decapitated.”

Atlanta police say they have received at least 10 calls for service at that address since September, including one in April reporting arson. According to a police report from that incident, Kimba Blaylock had called 911 because her brother, identified in the report as Ciarrie Campbell, had started a fire to rid the house of demons.”

Firefighters found no one inside the house.

Another police report from May 26 states that police were dispatched to the address on a dispute call. The responding officer wrote that a neighbor told him that her neighbor’s son, identified in the report as Ciarri Campbell, “was acting crazy and putting stuff in her trash and yelling at her.” She told the officer that the neighbor’s son had just been released from a hospital “for mental issues” a couple of days earlier.

The neighbor also said that Nateal Campbell had told her that her son “was a good kid.”

Calais Campbell is a five-time Pro Bowl selection who has played 18 seasons in the NFL for the Arizona Cardinals, Jacksonville Jaguars, Miami Dolphins, Atlanta Falcons and Ravens. He was named the Walter Payton NFL Man of the Year in 2019.

“We are incredibly saddened to learn about the passing of Calais Campbell’s mother,” the Ravens said Wednesday in a statement. “We extend our deepest condolences and full support to Calais and his family during this difficult time.”

The Associated Press contributed to this report.

Morocco’s Ismael Saibari embraced his mother after scoring the winning penalty against Netherlands to reach the World Cup last 16. The players danced and cheered in the dressing room after the dramatic win in Monterrey, Mexico.

WASHINGTON — Holiday gatherings and major life events have come with an empty seat. Certain dates on the calendar meant time at a cemetery, standing before granite stones.

They are a relatively small group of people, scattered across different states, but they share a common bond that stretches decades: Each had a family member die violently in the struggle for voting and civil rights, victims on a long and difficult path marked by blood that ended when the country seemed to mature into the nation of its creed.

But 61 years later, and as the country approaches its 250th anniversary this weekend, those sacrifices are in question. In a series of decisions over the last dozen years, including one in April, the Supreme Court has essentially dismantled the law that their family members died to see enacted, the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

“My mother’s blood is on that bill. We were always proud of that, and now it’s gone,” said Anthony Liuzzo, whose mother, Viola Liuzzo, died on an Alabama highway between Selma and Montgomery while driving marchers in 1965.

Critics of the law contend that times have changed, an argument Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. made in a 2013 decision that was the first major step in rolling back the law.

Survivors of lost loved ones disagree, pointing to the speed with which Republican-led state legislatures eliminated majority-Black congressional districts after the court’s April ruling, which severely weakened a section of the law that had protected voting rights for minority communities. They feel anger and sadness that a milestone political victory decades ago has been reversed, but they are committed to keep fighting.

A church bombing and a chunk of concrete

Lisa McNair was born Sept. 19, 1964. Her older sister, Denise, died in the Sept 15, 1963, bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Ala. The church had been a central organizing point for civil rights protest.

The explosion killed Denise McNair, 11, and 14-year-olds Addie Mae Collins, Carole Robertson and Cynthia Morris Wesley. Nearly two dozen others were injured. Three Ku Klux Klansmen were convicted years later.

One of Lisa McNair’s early memories of her sister was of the box that their grandmother kept from the funeral home. It included Denise McNair’s shoes, a purse and a rock-sized piece of concrete that had been embedded in her skull.

The crime brought the civil rights struggle onto the national stage and outraged President Kennedy.

The times were tumultuous, McNair said, but it seemed the nation was heading in the right direction. Most of her life, “I’ve seen advances” on television, in commercials, with interracial marriages, civil rights and voting rights, “a plethora of rights that we got over the greater part of my lifetime.” But that has changed, she said.

McNair, 61, said she is “physically sick” about the Supreme Court decision and subsequent actions by lower courts and legislatures.

“I am constantly working to pray my way through it, so I can get up and go to work in the morning and do what I need to do. But I just want to ask every white person I see, ‘What more do you want?;” she said. “‘Why do you hate us so?’”

They left for Freedom Summer and never came home

Michael Schwerner, known as Mickey, came from a family in which human rights activism and challenging social norms were expected. He was in Mississippi in 1964 as part of Freedom Summer when he, Andrew Goodman and James Chaney vanished one day in June while investigating a bombing at a Black church.

Their bodies were found weeks later, buried in an earthen dam in a rural area of Neshoba County. Schwerner, 24, and Goodman, 20, were white; Chaney, 21, was Black.

Stephen Schwerner, who died earlier this year and was a social activist in his own right, told the Associated Press in a 2023 interview that as soon as the family heard his younger brother and the other men were missing, they knew they were dead.

“Our family was very out front in the media that the only reason there was international attention was two of the young men were white,” said Stephen’s daughter, Cassie Schwerner. “Had all three of those young men been Black, they would have ended up absent from our history and our narrative.”

The executive director of Morningside Center for Teaching Social Responsibility, Cassie Schwerner, said her family has followed voting rights through their ups and downs. That includes the 2013 Supreme Court decision that allowed states and counties with a history of discriminatory voting rules to make changes without prior approval from the Department of Justice.

The court’s April decision, she said, brought rage “and a good deal of sadness — not for me and my family, but for this country.” There is, she said, work to be done on multiple fronts.

Rights paid for in blood turned out to be fragile

Tamara Orange said among her many thoughts when she heard of the Supreme Court decision in this year’s Voting Rights Act case, there was relief — “relief that my dad is not here to see that; that Jimmie Lee Jackson is not here to see it; that Viola Liuzzo is not here to see it,” she said. “I’m relieved for them because to me, it’s as though the sacrifices that were made were done in vain.”

Her father, James Orange, was working with the Southern Christian Leadership Conference to organize voting rights protests in Marion and Perry County, Ala., in 1965. When juveniles joined the effort, he was arrested for contributing to the delinquency of minors. Concern arose that Orange was going to be taken out of the jail and lynched.

A protest to intervene ended with Jackson, a 26-year-old Black church deacon, being shot in the stomach by a state trooper while Jackson tried to shield his mother and grandfather.

His death was the catalyst for what became the Selma-to-Montgomery march and “Bloody Sunday.”

Orange stayed in the movement all his life and died in 2008, Tamara Orange said. But even after the Voting Rights Act passed, “he would say, ‘Be careful or we’re going to lose it.’”

‘We got bad news for you’

Anthony Liuzzo had just turned 10 when his mother, 39, left their middle-class neighborhood in Michigan and headed for Selma. She had cried as she watched scenes from “Bloody Sunday” on television.

Viola Liuzzo participated in a portion of the second march and then helped drive other civil rights protesters around the Black Belt region of the state. On March 25, 1965, she was driving one protester between Selma and Montgomery when a vehicle pulled alongside and fired into the car.

The phone call came around midnight. Anthony Liuzzo remembers the caller asking his dad, “Is your wife Viola? We got bad news for you. She’s been shot.” When his father asked whether she was all right, the caller said, “No, she’s dead,” and then hung up.

An informant for the FBI quickly identified members of the Ku Klux Klan as her killers. The three men charged would escape conviction on state charges but be convicted in federal court.

Anthony Liuzzo and his siblings lived with the lost birthdays and other missed milestones. His comfort was that the voting rights she had died for had become a reality. But the April ruling by the Supreme Court and the subsequent rush by Republican-led legislatures in several Southern states to eliminate congressional districts represented by Black lawmakers left him angry and distraught.

Even so, he said he is still proud his mother had the courage to go to Selma “when others sat in their pretty little houses.”

One morning, the Klan returned

The inscription at the bottom of Vernon Dahmer Sr.’s tombstone reads simply: “If you don’t vote, you don’t count.”

It is a message that embodies his life’s work and the story behind his death.

Even after President Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act, not every state was eager to implement the new law. In Mississippi, it came with a poll tax. The amount was $2, but in a world where a farmworker’s wages might only be $5 a day, that was substantial, said Dahmer’s son, Dennis Dahmer Sr.

The elder Dahmer, 57 at the time of his death, was a successful businessman who owned a store, sawmill and farm near Hattiesburg. He also was a civil rights leader and NAACP president in Ford County. He offered to pay the $2 for Black residents who wanted to register to vote.

He had already been under scrutiny by the local Ku Klux Klan. There was harassment and there were threatening phone calls. The windows were shot out of his store, but no one challenged him directly because his sons were always present and armed.

That seemed to tail off after Johnson signed the law.

“The Klan quit calling,” Dennis Dahmer said. “They quit shooting out the windows, so my family thought that all of this was behind us.”

That changed in the early hours of Jan. 10, 1966, when two carloads of Klansmen showed up. They firebombed the house and adjacent grocery store and began shooting at the house. The elder Dahmer shot back, using his ample arsenal to fight off the attack.

His wife and the three children who were home survived, but he suffered severe injuries from inhaling the smoke and fumes from the flames. He died later that day.

Dennis Dahmer was 12 as he stood next to his dad’s hospital bed. He wondered why some people wanted his father dead just for trying to help Black people vote.

A former Imperial Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, Sam Bowers, was convicted in 1998 for the attack and sentenced to life in prison.

Like the families of other survivors, Dennis Dahmer’s family has witnessed the methodical dismantling of the Voting Rights Act.

“Finally, they basically turned it into a relic,” he said.

His plan now is activism, to speak out and promote the need for a massive voter turnout. He also wants to remind people of the price that certain families paid for everyone to have the right to vote and be represented by someone of their choosing.

“We’re living in a time when America has a lot of the same characteristics of the 1960s that I grew up in,” he said. “People say, ‘Are we going back?’ Hell, we’re already there.”

Fields writes for the Associated Press.

Kericho, Kenya – When Lona Chepkemoi walked into a technical college classroom in 2023, she found something she had rarely experienced during her years in school: She could understand what the teacher was saying.

After leaving primary school in 2008, Chepkemoi had failed her final exam, and her family could not afford to send her to secondary school. For years, the dream of becoming a fashion designer seemed out of reach.

Then a scholarship from her local member of parliament gave her a second chance.

But what surprised the now 33-year-old mother of five was not returning to education. It was hearing lessons delivered partly in Kalenjin, her mother tongue, she said.

“When I got to college, I felt at home because the language of instruction was my mother tongue [Kalenjin], and was mixed with a bit of Swahili and English, unlike in school when teachers only taught in English and exams were strictly only in English. Language here was accommodating, and it made me feel happy because I understood the concept quite well,” she told Al Jazeera.

For Chepkemoi, the difference went beyond comfort, it was comprehension.

Her experience reflects a wider global reality. According to UNESCO’s Global Education Monitoring (GEM) reports, about 40 percent of learners worldwide are not taught in a language they understand well, rising to about 90 percent in some low- and middle-income countries.

A second chance through familiar language

In Kenya, education policy provides for mother-tongue instruction in the early years of primary school, typically up to grade 3, before English becomes the main language of instruction from grade 4, with Kiswahili also widely used. In practice, however, classrooms often shift between languages depending on region, teacher capacity and student background.

Across much of Africa, the language of schooling still reflects colonial legacy systems, where English, French or Portuguese dominate classrooms even when children grow up speaking entirely different languages at home.

UNESCO’s Global Education Monitoring work shows multilingual classrooms are now the norm in many countries. The organisation has consistently argued that children learn best in a language they understand, describing mother-tongue-based multilingual education as key to improving literacy and learning outcomes.

When English meets the classroom reality

Chepkemoi was not alone in finding confidence through familiar language. Her husband, Philemon Tonui, enrolled at the same institution to study building and construction.

Although Tonui completed secondary school, he was unable to sit his final examinations because his family could not afford the fees, leaving him without a certificate.

For Tonui, the use of Kalenjin alongside English and Kiswahili made a significant difference.

“Nothing could beat that. I felt like if every level of education were instructed in their mother tongue, many people would excel in their education,” he told Al Jazeera.

Ismael Kiplang’at, a 28-year-old mason, also studied at the same institution. He recalls instructors making a deliberate effort to teach in languages students could understand.

“Our college was in a town with many communities in it, and even though the instructors did not understand all languages, at least they repeated their words in almost three languages just to make sure everyone was on board and understood the content. And those who came from other tribes always expressed satisfaction, saying that they really felt involved and not left out,” he said.

Now working as a mason three years after graduating, he credits that approach with helping him succeed.

“If education meant those tired English classes that we were taken through earlier in school, I would not have achieved my passion in masonry and earned a living,” he told Al Jazeera.

Between understanding and opportunity

Yet Kenya’s education system, like many across Africa, continues to face a structural tension: Early learning is most effective in familiar languages, but English remains essential for higher education, formal employment and global mobility.

Kiplang’at says he now practises English daily because he hopes to study further and work abroad.

For Shadrack Tonui, national chairperson of the Kenya Association of Technical Training Institutions, the challenge is not choosing between languages, but balancing them in multilingual classrooms.

“Generally, the mode of training is in English as the language of instruction and learning within the institutions. But of course, with the need to understand the flexibility of learning, there can be emphasis and use of a language that the learner will be able to understand at lower levels,” he told Al Jazeera.

He adds that institutions bring together students from diverse linguistic backgrounds, making it impractical to rely on one local language, while also stressing the need for English proficiency in the labour market.

The challenge is not unique to Kenya. UNESCO’s Global Education Monitoring work shows multilingual classrooms are now the norm in many countries, and education systems often struggle with teacher preparation, learning materials in local languages, and competing expectations from parents and employers over the role of English.

‘Why must we learn in another language?’

As for Chepkemoi, she is less concerned with policy than with practice. Most of her clients speak Kalenjin, while Kiswahili allows her to communicate with a wider customer base.

“Even though we were lucky to have teachers who would bring a point home while in college, we also had classmates from other communities who did not speak Kalenjin, and the teachers would explain it to them in Kiswahili,” she said.

For Kiplang’at, however, the debate ultimately comes down to one question: understanding.

“I ask myself sometimes why someone in Europe, Asia, or America learns in a language they grew up speaking, while we are expected to compete in theirs,” he said.

In “The Little Sister,” a teenager tries to hide in plain sight. Although everyone comments on her beauty, 17-year-old Fatima prefers to tie her hair back in a ponytail, her bright eyes buried underneath a black ball cap, her body concealed in unflattering tracksuits. As played by first-timer Nadia Melliti, who won the actress award at last year’s Cannes Film Festival, Fatima is encased in a kind of armor, an outward manifestation of her hesitancy to share her sexual orientation with a world she knows will judge her. This graceful film chronicles the process by which Fatima gradually sheds that reserve.

Adapted from Fatima Daas’ 2020 novel “The Last One,” a work of autofiction detailing the French author’s own coming out, “The Little Sister” takes place over five seasons, observing Fatima as she completes grade school and begins attending university. An adept athlete with a tomboyish demeanor, Fatima disappears inside a friend group consisting of immature teen boys who treat her like one of the guys, including her in their raunchy sex talk. Fatima has a boyfriend, Adel (Ahmed Kheloufi), but the relationship feels vestigial, with him constantly complaining that she should dress more feminine. Just as upsetting to Adel: When he tells Fatima that he loves her, she doesn’t respond in kind.

This is the third feature from French actor and director Hafsia Herzi, who herself made an acting splash in 2007’s “The Secret of the Grain.” For “The Little Sister,” Herzi takes a cue from Daas’ book, mapping Fatima’s inner journey as a modest series of tentative steps forward and anxious steps back. Fatima has reason to be skittish. The youngest of three daughters in a loving French-Algerian Muslim family, she conceals any hint of her sexuality from her mother, father and sisters, anticipating their disapproval. Many queer coming-of-age movies position the character’s awakening as an act of defiance. For Fatima, a practicing Muslim who adores her parents, the stakes feel even higher. Melliti’s performance is one of silent suffering, illustrating Fatima’s deference to her family.

But as much as she smothers her desires, others can sense them. An altercation between her friends and a gay male classmate gets heated once the classmate accuses her of being closeted, which she vehemently (and violently) denies. Soon after, Fatima secretly joins a dating app, hoping to understand her queerness. Her first date, in which she uses a fake name, focuses on learning terminology such as scissoring, and she approaches each new encounter like a fact-finding mission. Melliti keeps the shy teenager’s reactions neutral, Fatima’s stoicism a strategy to prevent exposing her inexperience.

That’s when she meets Ji-Na (Park Ji-min, the free spirit of “Return to Seoul”), a physician’s assistant who practically glows in her presence, overwhelming Fatima’s cautious nature. Ji-Na and Fatima’s love story — its blossoming, its unraveling, its possible resuscitation — forms the heart of “The Little Sister,” which also received the Queer Palm at Cannes. Melliti and Park exude a frisky, lusty chemistry, but it’s a film as much about self-love, as Fatima seeks to become comfortable in her own skin. Ji-Na is open and confident while Fatima remains closed off, her shame about her sexuality deeply culturally ingrained. When our main character starts lowering her defenses, however, that’s when she’s hit by a jolt that sends her spiraling.

Herzi’s slender, unassuming drama contains few emotional crescendos or grand insights, although this is the rare French film to center on a Muslim lesbian as its protagonist. “The Little Sister” grows even more intriguing once the love affair runs aground, forcing Fatima to flounder in her heartache. Her odyssey will lead to threesomes and lonely nights, but also difficult questions regarding how her faith and family may leave her perpetually adrift.

“The Little Sister” leaves much unspoken, which is fitting for a protagonist who rarely expresses herself in clear terms. Even during a touching scene near the finale, as Fatima sits at the dinner table weeping, upset over the end of a relationship, she and her mother (Amina Ben Mohamed) engage in a nimble dance: Fatima doesn’t feel safe explaining precisely why she’s crying, while her supportive mom chooses her words carefully, perhaps knowing more about her daughter than she dares say aloud. But despite the character’s rocky path to sexual awakening, Herzi navigates toward a hopeful conclusion that doesn’t peddle phony uplift. Fatima still faces a community that won’t embrace her true self. But maybe, at last, she’s willing to be seen.

At this year’s Sundance Film Festival, filmmaker William D. Caballero won the NEXT Special Jury Award for Creative Expression for his intensely personal, multimedia feature debut, “TheyDream.” During his acceptance speech, he made a powerful statement.

“In case ICE were ever to harm me or kill me, this film will serve as the truth of who I am, and who my family is, before Fox News or this administration ever makes us out to be the villain[s],” he recalls paraphrasing during a recent interview.

Blending live action footage with different animation techniques — as well as the 3-D-printed miniatures that have been a fixture of Caballero’s work for more than a decade — “TheyDream” honors the filmmaker’s Puerto Rican loved ones, particularly his mother, Milly.

She collaborated with him in the making of this one-of-a-kind portrait of loss, resilience and shared healing. Their heartfelt exchanges throughout this process are also shared on-screen.

“Seeing her light up and become transformed throughout was just invigorating, because it allowed us to talk about heavy things and bond throughout the process of creating a story that’s personal [for us] both,” Caballero says. “It’s like, ‘Let’s guide each other and instead of me taking your stories and making magic with them, let’s make this magic together.’”

The brilliantly unconventional piece of autobiographical storytelling will screen as the closing night film of the Los Angeles Latino International Film Festival (LALIFF) on Sunday. Recently, John Leguizamo and Ben DeJesus joined the film as executive producers.

Starting with his 2013 short film “How You Doin,’ Boy? Voicemails From Gran’pa,” Caballero has used miniatures to immortalize his loved ones. That bite-sized introduction to his Boricua grandfather’s humorous wisdom evolved into the HBO Latino show, “Gran’pa Knows Best.”

“When I started working on ‘Gran’pa Knows Best,’ I knew that 3-D printing was this new technique,” he says. “But I’d never seen anyone that looked or sounded like my grandfather in it. I realized that it could be a really creative method to preserve his voice and his story. “

Then came the 2017 short “Victor & Isolina” about his grandparents’ relationship, and more recently in 2022, he debuted “Chilly and Milly,” which focused on his parents. Some of the sets from these shorts, tiny replicas of places familiar to Caballero, and a few of the miniature characters were reused in “TheyDream.”

“Being able to create these things in miniature is almost like getting back in touch with the idea of play,” Caballero explains. “As a child, you invent lots of stories all the time. But now as an artist, I’m able to tell stories that touch upon reality and painful memories, but also hopes and dreams in a way that hearkens back to the innocence of childhood.”

Filmmaker William D. Caballero will screen “TheyDream” on Sunday at the Los Angeles Latino International Film Festival (LALIFF).

(William D. Caballero)

“TheyDream” is a culmination of the eclectic and nimble artistic practice that Caballero has developed since he studied digital art at the Pratt Institute in Brooklyn.

“I’d always just been attracted to new ways of expressing myself and expressing stories. And I say this both in a way that brings me pride, but also brings me a bit of a headache, because I don’t think I’ll ever be a conventional filmmaker,” he says, laughing.

Still, working outside the margins of traditional moviemaking requires great adaptability.

When Caballero received funding for “TheyDream” in 2021, the money wasn’t enough to conceive it as he had originally envisioned it: entirely told with 3-D-printed figures in physical sets. The lack of resources forced him to rethink his approach, and he opted for hiring two Puerto Rican animators, Julisse Tinoco and Frank Martinez, each of whom animate in distinct styles, to help him create some of the sequences needed.

“This all goes back to the resourcefulness that I learned when I was young,” Caballero says. “When you’re born Latino and low-income in this society, you can’t let yourself be written off or you’re already defeated before you even begin.”

Caballero grew up in housing projects in New York City, and later in a trailer in his grandmother’s backyard in Fayetteville, N.C. Both of his parents were disabled.

Filmmaker William D. Caballero poses as his father for a reference shot in the making of his 2026 film “TheyDream.”

For Caballero, he says the arts have provided an escape that he “needed in order to survive and not feel weighed down by American consumerism, by poverty and by feeling trapped.” Whenever grief has perturbed him, Caballero has processed it through creativity.

With “TheyDream,” he wished to extend that vehicle for self-reflection to his mother. The film addresses complicated familial bonds and his mother’s experience caring for others.

“Throughout the years, we’ve lost several of my family members that we were both close to, but my mother especially,” he says. “She feels their absence much stronger than I do. I live in Los Angeles, my mother still lives in North Carolina. Knowing that she was alone in the mobile home, it just made me feel like, ‘That can’t be good for her.’”

His mother, he says, deals with self-esteem issues because her identity has for so long been reduced to being a caretaker for elderly relatives, who, inevitably, pass away — leaving her feeling like a failure. In reality, it was thanks to her devotion that they added years of life.

Caballero’s mother was at the Sundance premiere of “TheyDream,” where she witnessed how others saw her through the film she helped her son craft.

“I wanted her to feel like, ‘Mom, look at all these people that are clapping for you. They’re clapping for you because you are a hero. You deserve to hold yourself high and be strong and know that there’s something incredible in your story that’s indicative of the stories of many low-income Americans, regardless of race,’” Caballero says, visibly moved.

A prolific and highly regarded artist (he is a 2018 Guggenheim Fellow), Caballero has several other projects in the works that he’s trying to shop around. One of them is an episodic series titled “Second Fiddle,” about a 15-year-old Latino boy who gets accepted to a prestigious summer youth orchestra camp — and whose overbearing mother decides she’s going to stay in the camp with him.

Caballero’s mother, Milly, got the animated treatment in “TheyDream.”

“I never saw a Latino playing violin on TV or the big screen. I didn’t see any quirky, nerdy, artsy Latino kids like I was,” he says. “And I felt in my core that [it] was just wrong and something that I could change.”

Another project, “Raúl Playing Game,” is “an adult version of Pixar’s ‘Inside Out,’ ” that takes place in the mind of a closeted bisexual man. Caballero himself is bisexual. In 2022, “Raúl Playing Game” was selected for the LALIFF Inclusion Fellowship, which provided support for a short film version that serves as proof of concept for a potential TV show.

“I always wanted to make sure that I was telling authentic stories even if not necessarily always positive stories,” he says. “I’m very happy that I never lost track of that. Because I do believe that we need to tell our own stories, in our own unique voices, before someone else does it for us.”

Nick Pasqual, the “How I Met Your Mother” actor who was found guilty of attempted murder of his ex-girlfriend last month, faces new legal fire.

Makeup artist Allie Shehorn, Pasqual’s ex-girlfriend, on Tuesday sued the actor for sexual battery, assault and negligence, among other counts, according to a lawsuit submitted in Los Angeles County Superior Court. The 17-page complaint echoes details about the May 2024 stabbing that led to Pasqual’s arrest two years ago and his attempted murder conviction. Pasqual was also convicted of injuring a spouse or partner, first-degree burglary and rape.

Legal representatives for Pasqual did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

According to the lawsuit, Shehorn and Pasqual began dating in 2023 and the actor “engaged in a continuing pattern of controlling, coercive, threatening and physically violent conduct” throughout their relationship. Shehorn alleges Pasqual “used force, threats, coercion and physical retraint” to rape and sexually assault her in April 2024. Pasqual also allegedly continued to engage in “escalating threatening” behavior, the lawsuit said.

The lawsuit resurfaces allegations that Pasqual unlawfully entered Shehorn’s home in Sunland a month after he raped her and stabbed her with a knife more than 20 times, “intending to kill her.” The Times previously reported that Shehorn’s friend Christine White found the makeup artist — who filed a restraining order against her former partner — lying in a pool of blood and that Shehorn underwent emergency surgery and remained in the ICU for several days.

Pasqual was arrested May 31, 2024, at a border checkpoint in Sierra Blanca, Texas. The actor, who met Shehorn on the set of Zack Snyder’s “Rebel Moon,” was convicted after a jury trial and will be sentenced on June 2. He could face a maximum sentence of life in state prison.

Shehorn is also suing Pasqual for gender violence, intentional infliction of emotional distress and violation of the Ralph Civil Rights Act. She seeks an unspecified amount in damages, including medical expenses and lost wages.

Time staff writer Cerys Davies and former Times staff writer Nathan Solis contributed to this report.

Wander Franco is guilty of sexually abusing a 14-year-old girl in 2023, a judge in the Dominican Republic made clear Monday.

Yet in his next breath, the same judge ruled that the former Tampa Bay Rays star shortstop will not be sentenced to prison because he was a victim of blackmail and extortion by the girl’s mother.

Celebrity justice in the D.R. can be perplexing, and Judge José Antonio Núñez admitted as much. But he also contended that the judicial pardon he granted Franco was the result of “logical and legal reasoning.”

“It seems contradictory to declare criminal responsibility and, at the same time, exempt him from punishment,” Núñez said. “The court has granted Wander Franco a judicial pardon due to the particular circumstances that made him a material victim, but not a legal one.”

The court found that the girl’s mother extorted thousands of dollars from Franco. The woman was sentenced to 10 years in prison on charges of commercial sexual exploitation of a minor and money laundering.

The odds are long that Franco will return to Major League Baseball any time soon. The fact that the court found him guilty of repeatedly having sex with a minor puts him squarely in violation of MLB’s Joint Domestic Violence, Sexual Assault and Child Abuse Policy.

The league is in the midst of an investigation into Franco’s conduct.

“We respect the legal process and the decision issued by the court,” the Rays said in a statement. “This is a serious matter, and our thoughts remain with those affected by the case.

“The Rays will continue to cooperate fully with Major League Baseball as it completes its review under the league’s Joint Domestic Violence, Sexual Assault and Child Abuse Policy. Out of respect for the legal process and all parties involved, we will have no further comment at this time.”

Franco’s situation serves as a cautionary tale for MLB teams that hand out long-term contracts years before players become free agents. The Rays signed a 20-year-old Franco to an 11-year, $182 million deal in November 2021 after he batted .288 with 30 extra-base hits in 70 games as a rookie.

Franco appeared on his way to stardom during a stellar 2023 season, but according to court filings he carried on a relationship with the 14-year-old victim for several months.

An investigation was launched in August 2023. Franco was arrested Jan. 1, 2024, after failing to appear before Dominican authorities who sought to interview him.

Tampa Bay placed him on the restricted list early in the 2024 season, voiding his contract.

Franco was found guilty in a June 2025 trial. Although prosecutors sought a five-year prison sentence, he was given only a two-year suspended sentence by Justice Jakayra Veras.

“Look at us, Wander,” Veras said in open court. “Do not approach minors for sexual purposes. If you don’t like people very close to your age, you have to wait your time.”

An appeals court in December ordered a new trial, which took place Monday and resulted in his pardon.

“Thank God for everything,” Franco said as he embraced his mother, Nancy Aybar, after Judge Nuñez announced the pardon.

As he departed the courthouse, Franco was asked by a reporter how he felt.

“I feel calm,” he said.

What do we have here? Some of my very favorite actors — Alfred Molina, Alfre Woodard, Clarke Peters and Geena Davis — starring in an eight-episode, B-grade sci-fi comedy-drama, “The Boroughs,” now streaming on Netflix.

Molina plays Sam Cooper, a retired engineer — that will be important — being brought grumbling to the Boroughs, a posh, city-sized retirement community plopped down in the middle of the Southwestern desert. Sam’s late wife, Lily (Jane Kaczmarek, in flashbacks and dreams), had planned the move, but she died suddenly, while they were dancing to Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road,” which will become a kind of trigger and motif going forth. Still, fate — in the form of daughter Claire (Jena Malone) and son-in-law Neil (Rafael Casal) — has pushed him solo to the Boroughs and a house on a cul-de-sac. (Seen from above, the town is laid out in a series of concentric circles, as EPCOT was meant to be when Walt Disney was alive and it stood for Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow. That has no relation to this show; I’m just throwing it out to the fans.)

Before this happens, however, we get a preamble. Is that Dee Wallace, the mother from “E.T.: The Extraterrestrial,” as Grace, a former occupant of Sam’s new home? (Why, yes it is.) Grabbed one night by something clearly not human, she’ll leave the show before the first credit rolls; but we’ll know from the start that there’s a monster on the loose. And even before Sam has settled in, he’ll be attacked by her now-widowed husband, Edward (Ed Begley Jr.), who has escaped to his old house from the Manor — a memory care unit more reminiscent of something out of “Squid Game” than anywhere you’d want to park a beloved fading parent — muttering “The key is in the light, the owl is in the wall,” and thereby turning Sam detective.

The joint is run by young Blaine Shaw (Seth Numrich), who supposedly took it over from his father, who took it over from his father before him, with Hollywood-blond wife Anneliese (Alice Kremelberg) by his side. (It is perhaps no accident that we’re also served a background clip from “Double Indemnity,” featuring a blond Barbara Stanwyck.) They radiate a kind of vampiric smoothness, and it will take you no longer to realize that something’s up with these two than it takes to say “Something’s up with these two.”

Mired in grief, Sam is initially reluctant to interact with his new neighbors, until former weatherman Jack (Bill Pullman) breaks down his defenses. Judy Daniels (Woodard) used to be a reporter, her husband Art (Peters) is a pot-smoking old hippie who pretends to go golfing but heads off to a ghost town where he grows mushrooms, “searching for proof that there’s more to life than just knockin’ about and hangin’ out.” Wally Baker (Denis O’Hare) used to be a doctor, but now needs one. (It’s cancer, and terminal, though it doesn’t show.) They have complicated relationships, but there’s nothing better for ironing things out than creeping together through dark tunnels by flashlight, hoping that nothing jumps out at you, engaging in weightless banter as you go.

Davis plays Renee Joyce, a former music manager who came to the Boroughs to stay with her mother after Renee’s husband stole her money, and stuck around; I think she’s meant to be younger than the rest, but if you want to look up Davis’ age, I will wait here while you gasp in astonishment. She’ll hook up with friendly young security guard Paz Navarro (Carlos Miranda); he played drums in a band once, and they were both at Glastonbury in 2010 and love Barbra Streisand. (What are the odds?) He’ll have a lot to do when a Scooby Gang — that old, invaluable, incredibly satisfying trope — finally comes together.

The series was created by Jeffrey Addiss and Will Matthews, who were co-writers on the 2018 Henson Co. puppet epic “The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance,” from which they have imported a central plot device regarding vital essences and a magical matriarchal figure. (Called “Mother” there and here.) Their 2020 dying girlfriend film “Life in a Year,” directed by Mitja Okorn, has some thematic mirroring here, as well — death hovers over the story — and it seems probable that somewhere in the series’ gestation, they discussed Ron Howard’s 1985 science-fiction flick “Cocoon,” with its retirement home setting and senior-citizen heroes.

Sewn together from these and other scraps of previous paranormal adventure stories, “The Boroughs” is almost entirely predictable — not a criticism, in this context, since surprises in such a story are liable to bring bad news, and our affection for its heroes ought not to be sacrificed in the name of dramatic effect. That is not the kind of sacrifice the age needs, and this is not that kind of series. Nor is B-grade a pejorative, but rather an honorable tradition, especially when it comes to sci-fi and horror. (We’ll get a glimpse of Roger Corman’s original “Little Shop of Horrors” playing on a TV — cathode ray, of course.) Once you get on its wavering wavelength — sentimental, sincere, sweet, a little silly, not overly concerned with making perfect sense — and realize the show is not out to hurt you, it’s a very enjoyable watch.

Colombian folk music icon Totó La Momposina, known as the “Queen of Cumbia,” has died. She was 85.

The Colombian Ministry of Culture announced the lauded vocalist’s death Tuesday morning.

“Today we bid farewell to the eternal Totó. (1940-2026) To the eternal teacher who traveled the entire world to the rhythm of cumbias, porros, mapalés, and bullerengues born in the heart of our land,” the ministry wrote in an X post. “To the eternal Momposina who spoke of the traditional music of the Caribbean, empowered it, and enriched it for decades to write an entire chapter in the cultural history of our country.”

In an Instagram post from the artist’s official account, her children provided a cause of death.

“With profound sorrow, we, her children Marco Vinicio, Angelica Maria, and Euridice Salome Oyaga Bazanta, announce the passing of our mother, Sonia Bazanta Vides, better known as Totó la Momposina, surrounded by her family in Celaya, Mexico, on Sunday, May 17. Cause of death: myocardial infarction,” the post read.

The children also touched on the enduring legacy that their mother left behind.

“Totó was a woman who, with her voice and extraordinary dedication, carried the culture and memory of the Colombian people to the far corners of the world. Her joy, light, wisdom, talent, generosity, and many other virtues touched the lives of countless people,” they continued in the post. “She shared with the world the music, culture, dances, and essence of Colombia’s Caribbean coast. Her name will forever remain in the memory of those who admired her, accompanied her and loved her.”

Born Sonia Bazanta Vides in 1940 in the Colombian town of Talaigua Nuevo, Totó la Momposina was born to a family with Afro-Colombian and Indigenous roots. Her music was renowned for incorporating the percussive and melodic instruments unique to her cultural identity. Both of her parents were amateur musicians and she began performing on stage at the age of six.

Her musical taste and sound was informed by the Afro-Indigenous rhythms of the traditional mapalé, chalupa, porro, bullerengue and cumbia genres that originated in Columbia and which she studied by visiting musicians in neighboring villages throughout her youth.

After moving to the Colombian capital of Bogotá in the 1960s, she immersed herself in the city’s music scene and began performing as part of a group. Totó la Momposina moved to Paris in the 1980s to study music at the Sorbonne University.

When Colombian author Gabriel García Márquez received the Nobel Prize in literature in 1982, she accompanied him to Stockholm and was among several Colombian artists to perform at the ceremony.

Hot on the heels of some international recognition, Totó la Momposina released her debut solo album “La Verdolaga” in 1983. She would later catapult to greater worldwide fame after she formed an artistic relationship with English musician Peter Gabriel. Under Gabriel’s Real World Records label, Totó la Momposina released her 1993 album “La Candela Viva,” which received international acclaim and a formative text in the cumbia and bullerengue genres.

In 2011, she was award record of the year at the 12th annual Latin Grammy Awards, alongside Calle 13, Susana Baca and Maria Rita for the track “Latinoamérica.” The singer also received a Latin Grammy lifetime achievement award in 2013.

Kaden Tennyson is a high school senior who works at an ice cream shop to make a few bucks to help pay for Uber drives and a veterinarian bill for his injured dog. He’s also a shotputter and discus thrower at Riverside Notre Dame.

He was suffering from a strained tendon in his right ankle resting at home when his ice cream manager called with a request for assistance.

“It was insanely busy,” said Tennyson, who is 6 feet 6 and 300 pounds. “I took an Advil and served birthday cake, brownie, chocolate fudge.”

There was no way Tennyson wouldn’t answer the call for duty.

“It’s my first job as a teenager,” he said. “It’s good for job experience.”

Tennyson never made it to the Southern Section track preliminaries after winning the league title.

“Every throw, it hurt badly,” he said. “I wanted to push through it.”

He made the decision to protect his future, so he passed on a chance to compete at Saturday’s Southern Section track championships.

He’s enjoyed much success in high school, on and off the playing field. He was back-to-back Skyline League champion. His best efforts were 51-10 in the shotput and 145-7 in the discus. He was admitted to 19 colleges. He was recognized by the Riverside Hall of Fame as a top scholar-athlete. He’s a two-time Principal’s Honor Roll recipient.

And yet, all that pales in comparison to what he has been forced to endure while his mother, Janet, twice battled cancer, affecting everyone emotionally and financially.

“As a mother, it’s been humbling to watch the kind of young man he has become through adversity,” Janet said in a letter she wrote honoring her son.

Fighting cancer is exhausting for everyone involved.

“We didn’t a spend a lot of time together, “ Kaden said. “She was mainly asleep. I wanted to be strong at home and not cry to make her sad. My friends helped a lot.”

Some of the senior activities Kaden hoped to participate in were lost for financial reasons, like going to the prom with his girlfriend.

He’s focused on the future.

“One of my dreams is to raise my own successful family,” he said. “In order to do that, you need to be successful yourself.”

He’ll take his 3.8 grade-point average and giant body to study buisness and compete in track and field at UC Irvine.

His mother is recovering. He intends to walk at graduation on June 5.

His mother says, “Kaden’s journey reflects resilience, family, perseverance and the reality that the effects of a serious illness don’t end when treatment does.”

Kaden’s smile continues. Maybe it’s because he works at an ice cream shop.

Asked he if he gets to sample the products, he said, “Sometimes.”

That’s a happy ending on any day.

Vivica A. Fox dreamed of being a model, but in order to receive her mother’s blessing to move to Southern California, where the jobs were, she had to promise her one thing: She’d go to college.

So that’s what she did. At 18, Fox left her hometown of Indianapolis for Huntington Beach, where she attended Golden West College and got an associate’s degree in social sciences. On weekends, she’d drive up to L.A. for auditions, getting her first taste of show business while dancing on Don Cornelius’ iconic television series “Soul Train” and later nabbing her first acting gig as Dr. Stephanie Simmons on “Young and the Restless,” a role she recently reprised after more than 30 years.

In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.

“The rest is kind of history,” says Fox, who went on to star in other hit films including “Kill Bill: Vol. 1,” “Two Can Play That Game,” “Soul Food” and “Set It Off,” which celebrates its 30th anniversary this year.

Her latest project, “Is God Is,” hits theaters Friday. Directed by Aleshea Harris, who wrote the award-winning play of the same name, the film follows twin sisters as they embark on a vengeful quest to find their abusive father, who left them for dead. Fox plays God, the twins’ mother, a burn victim and domestic abuse survivor who gives her daughters a simple yet chilling instruction: “Make your daddy dead. Real dead.” Harris handpicked Fox for the role.

“I just was so honored,” Fox says. “Then when I got the script and dove into it a little bit more, I was like ‘Ooh, this is a way no one has ever seen me. This is going to be challenging.”

She adds, “I was like, ‘Wow. We don’t get things like this,’ so it was honestly, for me, a no-brainer.”

Sundays are the one day of the week where Fox can “do me,” she says. Here’s how she’d spend it in L.A.

This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for length and clarity.

6:30 a.m.: Quick coffee run

I’m usually up by 6:30 or 7 a.m. I’m an early bird because I’m so used to either having to be on set or when my publicist, B.J., was living on the East Coast and I’d have to respond to answer his emails in a timely manner. Once I’m awake and settled, I’d get some Starbucks. I’d order a venti white chocolate mocha with an extra shot of espresso, no whipped cream. I used to order kale bites, which I’d eat with the meat from the sausage and egg sandwich, but they discontinued them so now I just get the sandwich.

8 a.m.: Float in hot springs

I’d head to the Beverly Hot Springs. I would get a body care treatment. It’s awesome because they rub you from head to toe with body oil, then they wash your hair and give you a cucumber and yogurt mask. After that, I would get a facial and float in the water. It is one of the only spas with natural, alkaline hot springs in L.A., so the water is just heavenly.

2 p.m.: Margarita and caviar fries with a view

After that, I would meet with a friend, more than likely B.J., at the rooftop restaurant at Waldorf Astoria. The reason why I love going there is because of the view. On a beautiful, clear day, you can see all of Los Angeles. It has a 360 view that is absolutely incredible. I would start off with the caviar fries and a spicy margarita with a tajin rim. Then I would do either the salmon with spinach or if it was a super cheat day, I’d have a cheeseburger.

4 p.m.: A Broadway show or a sports game

I’d probably go home and take a short nap. But if my godson, Quentin Blanton Junior, is in town, I’d go see him perform at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre. He’s playing little Michael in “MJ: The Musical” at the Pantages Theatre. [Editor’s note: We interviewed Fox before the show ended earlier this month]. I’m so proud of him. But if he’s not performing, I’d go to a Chargers or Lakers game. I’m a sports junkie. I’m from Indiana. We grow up on football and basketball. I’ve always loved the Lakers. I remember going to the games back in the day in Inglewood because I used to live there. I used to walk to the games. That was the golden era of Magic and all those guys, then Kobe and them moved up to Staples, which is now Crypto.

9 p.m.: Nightcap before bed

I’d end my Sunday with a night cap at the Delta Club at the Lakers game. I’d have a glass of wine before heading home, then I’d drink a Lacroix to hydrate. I try to be in the bed definitely before midnight.

“It’s so intimidating to walk through here,” says an arena staffer as she scurries under the sight line of a video camera on a tall tripod. It’s a couple of hours before the Sparks’ home opener against the Las Vegas Aces on Mother’s Day. None of the photographers or videographers or security guards respond. She says it again. Still they don’t react, but they’re not being rude. They’re just all laser-focused on a 6-foot-4 blond wearing a stunning white Alaïa runway set that happens to be both a perfect ab showcase and an unmistakable style gauntlet thrown.

As every WNBA fashion watcher already knows, the blond can only be Sparks forward Cameron Brink, a Vogue favorite and a staple on LeagueFits, the Instagram account that has amassed a million followers since 2018 with a curated stream of tunnel fits. How do they differ from regular off-court attire? These are highly stylized, high-stakes pregame outfits that many professional athletes wear when arriving at the stadium or arena, capitalizing on the opportunity to get seen on their own terms.

Cameron Brink wears an Alaïa top and skirt and Louboutin shoes.

The popular images share a common visual language: The players show up in outfits so expressive they raise an exhilarating middle finger to the very idea of quiet luxury. The backdrops are always drab; concrete floors and metal doors. The stark contrast between the two, and the suggestion of backstage access, make the photos irresistible to fans.

No one skips the tunnel walk. The Sparks rookies are here early, Ta’Niya Latson first, followed by Ji-Hyun Park and then Chance Gray, all arriving while the last section of sparkly black carpet is still being laid down on the literal tunnel, which is finally emblazoned with the team logo. That’s the one they’ll all walk in uniform to get onto the court. We are in the proverbial tunnel, it is the bustling back-of-house that players must traverse on their way to the locker room, which means that all around us the enormous task of staging a pro ballgame is unfolding in a practiced frenzy.

Less than a month ago, Latson went classic Hollywood at the WNBA draft with a glamour girl dress, meticulously laid spit curl and elbow gloves, but today she comes in sporty and fun, in a Puma top and jeans with a folded-down waistband. It’s her very first league game, and the moment is surreal, joyful. “It doesn’t even feel like I’m here, but I am,” she says.

A team staffer pulls a forgotten wad of blue painter’s tape off the floor. A photographer checks her light levels. Three gaffers rush by with heavy coils of electric cord slung over their shoulders. Park is next to arrive. A basketball star in Korea, she’s new to L.A. but already wearing a sweatshirt from a local brand, Madhappy, and does not seem at all intimidated by the cameras, giving them a playful pose, head cocked and leg kicked out. Not long after, Gray, in a plaid mini, is also posing at the photographers’ request, switching effortlessly between signature Gen Z stances, chin resting atop a bent hand. She, too, showed up at the draft in a flawless gown, but today all three rookies seem to have wisely cast themselves in a sort of spirited younger sibling role.

Ta’Niya Latson wears a Puma top and Louis Vuitton bag.

Jihyun Park arrives for her tunnel walk in a Madhappy sweatshirt and Nike sneakers.

Chance Gray wears a Revolve top and shoes, I.am.Gia. skirt and Ganni bag.

Word spreads that Sparks starter Kelsey Plum will be there soon and everyone straightens up. More team staffers rush by. To play basketball you need only a ball and a basket. To magic a WNBA production into existence, you need so much more. A man bearing a dozen brand new jerseys, designed as a callback to the original 1997 uniform, weaves past a line of people going the other way, carrying orange Gatorade coolers and stacks of branded blankets wrapped in thin plastic. An assistant speeds back and forth, loaded down with pallets of snacks, her long hair streaming behind her.

And then Nneka Ogwumike steps into view. After two seasons in Seattle, her return to L.A. is triumphant. As president of the Women’s National Basketball Players Assn., she helped secure a historic new agreement, signed March 24, with salary numbers that mean real money across the board. And in case there were any lingering doubts about her loyalty, she’s made a pointed clothing choice: a pair of custom tapestry pants constructed from a Lakers logo blanket, created by KA Originals designer and former player Kristine Anigwe. The message is simple. “L.A. for life,” says Ogwumike.

Nneka Ogwumike wears custom KA Originals tapestry pants constructed from a Lakers blanket.

Now the rush begins. As we’re talking to Ogwumike, Sania Feagin slips by in a multicolored knit beanie, smile unmissable, holding a bouquet of Mother’s Day flowers from one of the league’s social media managers. Then Emma Cannon embraces the holiday by pulling her son and twin daughters behind her in a wagon. As the family is photographed, several Aces members come in and pause for a brief hug and coo before ducking quickly out of frame. The energy could not be more different from a boxing weigh-in. No spotlight stealing. No antagonistic peacocking.

It is, indisputably, the home team’s turf. And Plum, next to arrive, treats it like her runway. Willy Chavarria sunglasses on, textured Ferragamo trousers glittering with each camera flash, she strides through without pausing. The look has her signature rebel edge, but the guard is working with a new stylist, Karla Welch, who’s known for transforming actors into fashion darlings — her client Greta Lee (“Past Lives”) is the face of Dior’s latest campaign.

Soon after, we get another speed strut from guard Erica Wheeler, whose giant “EW” initial chain from the GLD Shop is the iced out topper to an outfit that’s a master class in artful layering, composed with the assistance of stylist Miguel Moss. Wheeler dipped into Willy Chavarria’s Adidas collab with both her shorts and a pair of black sneakers with a metal-tooled toe in a floral pattern that the designer named after the Compton Cowboys.

WNBA LA Sparks player Emma Cannon with her three children.

Kelsey Plum wears Ferragamo top and pants, Willy Chavarria sunglasses and Jude boots.

The entire time players are walking through, music has been booming through the hallways. Gradually, it becomes clear that the game DJ and host are also getting ready, running through their playlists and patter. When Rae Burrell enters, the game announcer is rehearsing, exhorting the not-yet-arrived crowd to cheer for their team. Burrell may have worked with a shopper to procure options, but she styled herself in this cheer-worthy outfit — a gray minidress that satisfyingly contrasts with a pair of bright white Moon Boots, all pulled together the night before.

Star stylist Brittany Hampton, who has worked with Brink and Plum, says, “historically, [the players] were told to kind of put themselves in a box … to shrink themselves.” The league had very narrow standards for how women were expected to look. But now, according to Hampton, their fashion choices are a projection of power: “It’s an act of their own ownership.”

Before she headed to the locker room, Burrell thanked everyone and called out a cheerful invocation, “Successful first game!” That’s the appeal of the tunnel walk. You cannot stay suspended in pure potential. There is always a ticking clock. A game will be played. Someone will win and someone will lose. None of us know yet that the Sparks are about to get trounced by the Aces, losing by 27 points. It might seem like it would be more sensible for this ritual to take place after the game, for the victors to stage a triumphant, high-style parade and for everyone else to slink out, unnoticed. But where’s the glory in that? To be an athlete is to prove yourself constantly, to always be risking your ego and your body. Without these stakes, without the backdrop of the tunnel and the promise of the competition, it would just be a runway.

In the third quarter, as the Aces’ points keep piling up, the Jumbotron lingers on a fan wearing a simple white T-shirt, probably self-made, emblazoned with an iconic 2024 image of Kelsey Plum in black sunglasses and head-to-toe black leather. Plum is braless, her vest open to reveal a shimmery pile of silver chains, her abs on defiant display. It is a potent, and lasting, assertion of self. The fan in the T-shirt smiles as their image, and Plum’s, looms over the arena.

Dearica Hamby poses with her daughter, Amaya, and wears an Ottolinger set, Steve Madden shoes and Balenciaga.

Rae Burrell wears Prada sunglasses and Diesel bag.

Ariel Atkins wears Zara pants, Charles Keith top, Bape shoes and Ganni bag.

Sania Feagin wears Mnml pants and jacket and Supreme beanie.

Head coach Lynne Roberts.

Jade Chang is the author of the novel “What a Time to Be Alive.”

It’s early in the morning, and Birmingham baseball coach Matt Mowry is at the supermarket looking through the flowers section before classes begin. He’s engaged in an unseen, often undervalued duty as a coach — providing comfort to players and their families.

One of his players, 16-year-old sophomore outfielder JJ Rodriguez, lost his father, Anthony, 53, on a Saturday morning last month when he died in his sleep at home. Mowry is looking for a bouquet of flowers to present to JJ’s mother, Nancy, before his first game back.

There are no easy answers how to help a family dealing with grief. Mowry went through his own tragedy in 2022 when his wife, Amy, died of cancer. He prays for her before each game, looking up to the sky while grasping his wife’s necklace, then kissing a ring that has her fingerprint tattooed on it.

The message Mowry told JJ: “Times are going to be tough There’s moments you’re going to break down. It’s OK. You don’t have to hide it.”

The reason No. 1-seeded Birmingham doesn’t open the City Section Open Division baseball playoffs until Thursday is because Anthony’s funeral is Wednesday, and players and coaches will be there to provide support.

Anthony Rodriguez, the father of Birmingham baseball player JJ Rodriguez, died last month.

(Eric Sondheimer / Los Angeles)

JJ missed a couple days of school and one game after his father’s death. He wanted to be alone and was skeptical about coming back any time soon.

“He would message me and tell me coming here and being around my teammates would make me more comfortable and get my mind off things,” JJ said of Mowry. “I wanted to be alone a little bit because my mind was not in the right place. But the day I came back, I learned these guys are my family.”

JJ has become an important part of his team, starting in left field while batting No. 9 in the order. The Patriots won their first West Valley League title in 20 years and are trying to win their sixth City title under Mowry.

JJ and his mother have appreciated the emotional support, allowing them to try to heal from their sorrow.

His mother told him, “Be strong for everyone else. Your dad will always be proud of you.”

There’s a candle in the room where his father was found.

“I sometimes go there and be alone at night and talk to myself,” he said.

Before games, JJ says a prayer and thinks of his father.

“Every game,” he said. “It’s for you, Dad.”

On May 23, the City final will take place at Dodger Stadium.

Imagine the thrill for players of the two teams who reach the final. They’ll get to walk the infield, put some grass in their pockets, look up into the stands, hang out in the dugout of the two-time defending world champions.

For JJ, his father won’t be able to watch him. Or maybe he will. Every day is a step forward to healing. It’s hard, but he’s got a coach watching over him.

“I talked to him about what my son went through in the same situation,” Mowry said. “I had him get back out with the guys and be there whether he practiced or played.”

JJ is back and thankful to his baseball family.

The problem is not where to find photos on Route 66. The problem is putting down the camera, especially during this centennial year, when the road is dressed up with more lights, banners, murals and fresh paint than it has seen for decades.

Stories, photos and travel recommendations from America’s Mother Road

Travelers may be tempted to just keep snapping. But for better results on every level, say hello and ask questions first. Here are a few more photo tips along with an east-to-west gallery of what our photographers and I found on the road:

• You can’t be everywhere at dusk, when the neon signs blaze, so be strategic (and maybe plan for an early dinner or a late one).
• Use a solid tripod (for long exposures), stay off the road, and be sure to try a variety of exposure times. (Neon is tricky.)
• If you see a roadside image that needs your attention, pull over, park legally and step away from the vehicle. The result will be better and all will be safer.
• Besides the freedom of road-tripping, the spirit of Route 66 is about independent businesses bucking the odds on the road less traveled. If we all take pictures without spending, those businesses won’t last long.

Views from Navy Pier in Chicago.

Millennium Park in Chicago.

Route 66 begins in downtown Chicago at Adams Street and Michigan Avenue. Early alignments put it on Jackson Boulevard. Signs mark the spot across the street from the Art Institute of Chicago.

Art Institute of Chicago.

Cigars and Stripes BBQ in Berwyn, Ill., features a Muffler Man smoking a cigar and holding a jumbo bottle of barbecue sauce.

The Gemini Giant stands along Route 66 in Wilmington, Ill.

Atlanta, Ill., is home to the American Giants Museum — which celebrates the Muffler Men and Uniroyal Gals that were common roadside advertising features in the middle 20th century.

Springfield, Ill., is home to the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Museum and Library. Exhibits takes Lincoln from his Illinois childhood through to the Civil War and his assassination in 1865.

A barn along Route 66 near Carlinville, Ill.

The Wagon Wheel Motel on Route 66 in Cuba, Mo.

The Route 66 Car Museum’s collection includes about 70 vehicles, especially American and European sports cars. Pictured is a 1967 Pontiac Bonneville.

Gary’s Gay Parita, once a service station, won fame over the decades for its hosts’ hospitality. It’s still a popular stop, 25 miles west of Springfield, Mo.

Rockwood Motor Court in Springfield, Mo., dates to 1929. It has been restored and continues to operate.

The Meadow Gold District in Tulsa, Okla.

This fiberglass Rosie the Riveter figure went up on 11th Street in Tulsa in 2025.

Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios occupies a former service station on 11th Street — a.k.a. Route 66 — in Tulsa.

Soda pop bottles line the walls of Pops 66 in Arcadia, Okla.

A car travels down a stretch of the Meadow Gold District in Tulsa, Okla.

The Cyrus Avery Centennial Plaza features a bronze sculpture called “East Meets West,” just off the now-closed Cyrus Avery Route 66 Memorial Bridge.

The Round Barn in Arcadia, Okla., stands along Route 66.

National Route 66 Museum and Elk City Museum Complex, Elk City, Okla.

The fastidiously restored U-Drop Inn, a Streamline Moderne filling station and cafe in Shamrock, Texas, is one of the architectural standouts of Route 66. It doesn’t sell gas, though.

Visitors to the Cadillac Ranch art installation in Amarillo, Texas, are allowed to spray-paint the 10 Cadillacs half-buried in the ground there.

The Midpoint Cafe in Vegas, Texas, celebrates the halfway point along Route 66 between Chicago and Los Angeles.

A license plate spotted in Albuquerque.

La Cita, a sombrero-topped restaurant, is one of the most popular eateries in Tucumcari, N.M. It was founded in 1940 and moved to its current location in 1961.

Motel Safari in Tucumcari, N.M., is one among a handful in town that have renovated and upgraded to attract contemporary travelers along Route 66.

Michela Franceschilli and her mom, Carla, came from Rome for their second trip exploring Route 66. They are standing by the Blue Swallow Motel, in Tucumcari, N.M.

From Old Highway 66 near Laguna, N.M., Casa Blanca Road leads to Enchanted Mesa and Acoma Village.

The exterior of Duran Central Pharmacy in Albuquerque.

The combination plate, Christmas-style, at Duran Central Pharmacy.

El Vado Motel is a rescue-and-recovery story on Central Avenue in Albuquerque.

Signs and murals line the roadside as Old Highway 66 passes through Grants, N.M.

The West Theatre in Grants, N.M.

The Painted Desert Trading Post stand west of Chambers, Ariz. The restored building and a stretch of old Route 66 are on private property behind a gate. Travelers call or text a number on the gate to ask for access.

Signage along old Route 66 in Holbrook, Ariz.

The Painted Desert portion of Petrified Forest National Park includes broad vistas and richly varied mineral colors.

Scenes from Route 66 in Williams, Ariz.

Angel & Vilma Delgadillo’s Original Route 66 Gift Shop on Route 66 through Seligman, Ariz.

Aztec Motel and Creative Space in Seligman, Ariz.

Route 66 merch in Seligman, Ariz.

Tin Can Alley is a compound of five rental Airstream trailers in Kingman, Ariz.

The stretch of old Route 66 between Kingman and Topock in western Arizona is known as “Arizona Sidewinder” for its 191 turns, often without guardrails. The old mining town of Oatman, known for its feral donkeys, is on the way.

Oatman, Ariz., is known for its roaming burros, Old West-style storefronts and busy weekends. It stands on a curvy stretch of Route 66 that attracts many motorcyclists and off-road enthusiasts.

El Rancho Motel Sign on the outskirts of Barstow, Calif.

Wigwam Motel off Route 66.

The iconic Roy’s sign stands over old Route 66 at Amboy, Calif., in San Bernardino County. These days Roy’s operates as a gas station, gift shop and snack bar, not a cafe or motel.

The fiberglass statue known as Chicken Boy stands on the roof of artist, designer and gallerist Amy Inouye’s studio on Figueroa Street in Highland Park.

The interior of the Magic Lamp Inn.

The Magic Lamp Inn in Rancho Cucamonga.

Mitla’s Cafe in San Bernardino.

Foothill Drive-In sign on the campus of Azusa Pacific University.

A portion of Route 66 that runs parallel with I-15.

Signs of Route 66 through the town of Oro Grande, Calif.

Elmer’s Bottle Tree Ranch.

The interior of the Formosa Cafe in West Hollywood.

The historic train car at the Formosa Cafe.

Mel’s Drive-In diner in Santa Monica.

Route 66 memorabilia at Mel’s Drive-in diner.

Route 66 Burger at Mel’s Drive-In, a popular stop for Route 66 travelers.

The Santa Monica Pier, which marks the western end of Route 66.

Memorabilia for sale on the Santa Monica Pier.

Scenes from the Santa Monica Pier and the end of Route 66.

A sign marking the end of Route 66 on the Santa Monica Pier.

The entrance to the Santa Monica Pier.

The Santa Monica Pier at dusk.

Two-thousand, four-hundred and forty-eight miles. That was the span of Route 66 when highway officials stitched it together to link Chicago, Los Angeles and countless cities and towns in between. But as an enduring American symbol, this highway reaches much further than that, inspiring books, songs, movies and countless road trips.

It turns 100 this year, so with summer coming, we drove it all.

Across eight states, we scouted out vintage motels, new businesses, neon signs, friendly Muffler Men, road food, vivid characters and 20th century ruins. We also kept our eyes open for hints of the road’s evolution, from the Dust Bowl years, segregation and the postwar boom to the freeway-era slump and the reemergence of Route 66 as a long, winding and living historic landmark.

Now we’re taking you along for the ride. If you’ve ever daydreamed about covering some part of the famous roadway, hop on in and let’s get our kicks, shall we?

Nick Pasqual, an actor who appeared in “How I Met Your Mother,” has been found guilty of the attempted murder of L.A.-based makeup artist Allie Shehorn.

Following a jury trial, Pasqual was also convicted of counts of injuring a spouse or partner, first-degree burglary and rape, according to court documents.

The incident occurred in May 2024, when Pasqual repeatedly stabbed Shehorn, his ex-girlfriend, in her Shadow Hills home. Prosecutors claimed that he broke into her home, attacked her with a knife and fled California. Pasqual was later stopped by authorities at a border checkpoint in Sierra Blanca, Texas, the Los Angeles County district attorney’s office said.

At the time, Shehorn’s friends speculated that she had been stabbed more than 20 times. Following the attack, she underwent emergency surgery and spent days in intensive care.

The pair first met on the set of Zack Snyder’s film “Rebel Moon.” Pasqual worked as a background actor, with credits including “How I Met Your Mother” and “Archive 81,” and Shehorn worked as a makeup artist on movies including “Family Switch” and “Babylon.”

Prior to the stabbing, Shehorn had filed a restraining order against Pasqual, which detailed acts of sexual and physical assault.

Pasqual will be sentenced on June 2. He could face a maximum sentence of life in state prison.

Former L.A. Times staff writer Nathan Solis contributed to this report.

For Sarah Gorden, Mother’s Day is special because it’s not just a celebration of motherhood. For her, it’s also a celebration of perseverance, grit and survival.

Especially survival.

Gorden became pregnant during her junior year of college and for most of the next 12 years, she tried to balance her life as a professional soccer player with her responsibilities as a single mother. It wasn’t easy.

“I honestly look back and I have no idea how we got through that,” said Gorden, who made $8,000 as an NWSL rookie with the Chicago Red Stars in 2016, less than the city’s minimum wage. “We’re making no money. We were definitely using government assistance and government aid. And then the help of family and friends.

“I’m impressed and proud of the part of me that got through that. But it was no way to live.”

As the memories come flooding back, so do the tears.

Angel City midfielder Ariadina Alves Borges walks off the pitch with her son, Luca, at BMO Stadium on May 2.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

“It’s so difficult to explain,” said Gorden, now 33 and the captain at Angel City, as she dabbed at the tears with a tissue. “Not having enough money, not having enough time, wondering if I’m being selfish, wondering if I’m making the right decision. Ultimately it came down to: I didn’t feel like I had another [choice].”

A decade later, the NWSL minimum wage is $50,500 and the league’s collective bargaining agreement guarantees mothers job protection, full salary and benefits for the duration of a pregnancy-related absence, stipends for child care and subsidized arrangements for women traveling with children up to age 14.

Angel City, founded by three mothers, has gone beyond what the league has mandated by supporting mothers with perks that include a well-stocked nursery at the team’s training facility on the campus of Cal Lutheran University.

“From the beginning, we always strive to support the whole player. Physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically,” said Julie Uhrman, one of Angel City’s founders and now a principal adviser to the team. “And then to support them if they came in as parents or became parents. That’s not just players. Staff too.”

Uhrman, who raised two children while building a successful career as a media and entertainment executive, speaks from experience.

“They can do both and they can excel at both,” she said of her players. “And we’re going to provide the support and the environment for them to do that.”

On its active roster of 25 players, Angel City has four mothers — the most in the NWSL. The work that went into the infrastructure now in place for them originated with Sarah Smith, the team’s former director of medical and performance.

Smith, who left the club in January and now advises elite athletes — primarily skiers — in Utah, said the support she got from Uhrman and others during her own pregnancy two and a half years ago inspired and informed her work with Angel City.

“Having the leadership of the club and the female leaders in the club, and then wanting to be able to support all of the players through their different journeys, through motherhood, I was really glad to be part of that,” she said. “But it really started with the fact that I had just gone through it, and I was able to share those experiences.”

Angel City forward Sydney Leroux’s 9-year-old son, Cassius, waits for his mom to leave a team huddle at BMO Stadium on May 2.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

The first player she guided through that journey was Scottish forward Claire Emslie, who gave birth to a son in December.

“I’ll be honest. Having seen how much she wanted to do for moms in the game made me excited to become a mom,” Emslie said. “We weren’t even thinking about having a kid. But knowing what she wanted to do if there was a pregnant player made me want to have a kid because I knew that this is the best place I could possibly be.”

Emslie, 32, was cleared to suit up for Angel City’s game with San Diego on Saturday — the day before Mother’s Day — after missing the past 12 months on maternity leave. But she continued to train until just before giving birth and that, combined with the year off from the weekly pounding of professional soccer and the physiological changes her body went through during pregnancy, have made her better, she says.

“I feel better. I’m different,” she said. “I got a lot stronger and that’s something you can’t build while you’re in competition. My speed is back. I think I’m actually faster. And there’s also sort of an effect where you’ve got more red blood cells in your system now. So they say your cardio is actually better.”

The prime years for a women’s soccer player — between the ages of 25 and 29 — overlap with their prime reproductive years. Until recently, however, women had to make a choice between a family and a career. Now many are choosing to do both.

Sophia Wilson, a former NWSL scoring champion and MVP, and Mallory Swanson, her teammate on the U.S. Women’s National Team, both missed play in 2025 to give birth. They are among the 28 mothers in the league, and more are coming with the most recent NWSL availability report showing six teams missing players going on maternity leave.

Angel City player Claire Emslie, who is pregnant, tours a nursery the team built for players.

(Courtesy of Angel City FC)

Emslie’s own experiences tell her those numbers will continue to grow.

“I got to a point where I need[ed] to start thinking about life after football. And if I want to have a family, because of the biological clock, I need to start trying soon,” Emslie said. “It’s now kind of a normal thing to have a baby and come back.”

“Now I wish I’d done it younger,” she added. “Having a baby and continuing to play, they’re on the journey with you. So to have, say, five, six years professional football with a family, that’s amazing.”

Smith believes the willingness of star players such as Wilson and Swanson — and before them, Alex Morgan and Manchester United’s Hannah Blundell — has brought important focus to the issue of motherhood in soccer.

“That is where the game is going. I think you probably can see it across the league, the number of mothers,” Smith said. “And that’s a variety of circumstances. It may be mothers whose partners have carried children. It may be also players that are thinking about having children later and want to freeze their eggs. What I wanted to make sure is that we, we supported all of those different circumstances.”

That included designing and stocking the nursery at the training facility Angel City inherited from the NFL’s Rams in the fall of 2024.

“We put stuff in there for Caiden, for Sarah’s son, because it wasn’t just for Claire,” Smith said. “We wanted to make sure that all of the players and their partners felt good and comfortable. You just want to take a little bit of stress off of the players.”

Angel City captain Sarah Gorden with her oldest son, Caiden, during a photo shoot.

(Courtesy of Angel City FC)

When the club inherited the nine-acre practice facility in 2024 from the Rams, Angel City designated the largest of the offices for the nursery. The office belonged to head coach Sean McVay, and now it features walls painted pink and light blue and a crib, a changing table and a menagerie of stuffed animals.

“We want players to come to Angel City because we are the absolute best place for you to grow as an athlete, as a human,” Uhrman said. “And, you know, thinking about the fact that they might want to become mothers at some time or they’re coming in as mothers is really important.”

Gorden remembers a time not so long ago when that wasn’t the case. Early in her career in Chicago, she said she had to bring her son to a team meeting and was punished by being benched. Another time she couldn’t find child care on the day of a game — a Mother’s Day game.

“I just remember bawling all morning and just feeling so stressed,” she said.

Gorden has a fiance who is helping with parenting and her son Caiden, now in middle school, has grown into a sweet, empathetic boy.

“So yeah,” Gorden said, smiling through the tears, “a lot of progress. The league gets it now.”

On Mother’s Day, let’s salute two single mothers who became the No. 1 fans for their sports-playing sons and stayed by their side through good and bad times.

Sylmar pitcher Matthew Torres has tried to make it through life without a father after his parents’ separation when he was 12.

“He’s not been to any high school games,” Torres said.

Enter his mother, Roxanne, who has raised four boys and one girl by multitasking and embracing sports activities. She intervened to help Matthew make it through tough times.

“Her bringing me to church and getting to know God has made me the man I am today,” the 6-foot-3, 185-pound senior said.

Torres became the No. 1 pitcher in the Valley Mission League this season with an 8-0 record while also hitting .488. He helped Sylmar win the league title and become the No. 1 seed for the City Section Division I playoffs.

He has a secret plan scheduled for Sunday to salute his mother. Who doesn’t like surprises?

At Carson High, All-City quarterback Chris Fields has a mother, Shere Fletcher, who could play or coach football the way she has dived headfirst into learning the sport to be at the side of her son.

There were once tough times as a family. Fields said the family was “impoverished.” Mom worked multiple jobs while also studying but sacrificed everything to make sure her son and daughter could have a bright future. She became a paralegal and never misses a practice or game. She should be called “Coach Fletcher” but prefers mom.

“I’ve been through everything with my mom,” Fields said.

Her Mother’s Day gift since the 49ers are her favorite team is a vintage Jerry Rice jersey and a trip to Santa Anita.

There are plenty of moms who’ve spent countless hours driving, feeding and motivating their sports-playing sons and daughters through highs and lows.

Happy Mother’s Day to all.

This is a daily look at the positive happenings in high school sports. To submit any news, please email eric.sondheimer@latimes.com.

It’s hard to believe, as Matt Damon noted in his monologue in this week’s “Saturday Night Live,” that the actor of this summer’s “The Odyssey” has only guest hosted three times during his lengthy career. (In case you’re wondering, his frequent writing and acting partner Ben Affleck has hosted five times.)

That’s a shame because Damon checks all the boxes for what an A-list actor should do when they host the show: be super present, take every opportunity to do the silliest sketches without seeming uncomfortable, and bring at least some of their acting chops to bear to give otherwise lightweight sketches a little extra gravitas or emotion.

Damon did all that and helped start the show off with an extra jolt of energy by returning as Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh in the cold open, along with last week’s ringer, Aziz Ansari as FBI Director Kash Patel.

Not every sketch worked, like an early Godzilla parody set in a command center that was simply a series of increasingly anticipated spit takes on poor Mikey Day. Things improved when Damon played himself in a pre-taped sketch about a movie made just for moms ahead of Mother’s Day; mom’s fantasy? No conflict among the kids and a blissful marriage to Matt Damon.

Damon also played one of a trio of middle-aged men (including Marcello Hernández and Kenan Thompson) constantly getting beat up by “tough guys” who are sometimes just children. He also played a frustrated dad in a strange cat litter commercial, a substitute teacher trying to get a classroom of students to dance (unsuccessfully) and, memorably, an auctioneer in a fight with his auctioneer wife (Sarah Sherman). In these sketches in particular, Damon’s acting skills helped elevate the characters he played, grounding them in sadness or frustration. It definitely helped.

The “Odyssey” might turn out to be the summer’s biggest movie hit. If that’s the case, let’s hope Matt Damon isn’t kept from hosting “SNL” for so long after this week’s solid job.

Musical guest Noah Kahan performed “The Great Divide” and “Doors.”

At Martin’s Tavern in Washington, D.C., Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth (Colin Jost) returned yet again to shout-bark at those around him, brag about the Iran War he claims he started and, of course, talk about drinking alcohol. But this time, he was joined by his apparent drinking buddy Kavanaugh, who held a gavel and immediately ordered a “six-three decision” (six beers, three shots of Jameson whiskey). Glowing in their victories, Hegseth bellowed, “Can you believe I just started a war?” Kavanaugh replied, “Can you believe I ended abortion? Your body, my choice!” Kavanaugh went on to show off what at first looked like a dinosaur-shaped district map for Tennessee before revealing it’s his field sobriety test, when he was asked to draw a circle. Kavanaugh bemoaned the male loneliness crisis just before they were joined by Patel, who cried, “Does this bar take Kaaaaash?” Patel showed off the bourbon that bears his name. (“Somehow this is a real thing that I, the FBI director, have made. This is real!”) Kavanaugh revealed a secret: that the court is going to let Trump do a third term. “Trump found the original Constitution and on the end, he wrote, ‘Psych!’ ” The three ended the sketch by singing Chumbawamba’s “Tubthumbing” with its callouts of their drink orders.

Damon previewed his upcoming film, even though he had to mention several times that “The Odyssey” won’t be out for another nine weeks. He also had to break the news that the lovely “SNL” tradition of bringing on moms of cast members wouldn’t be happening this year due to Spirit Airlines shutting down. It turns out, after an audience member (“SNL” writer Jack Bensinger) asks, that only Hernández’s mom was able to make it. Damon then recorded a video message to moms out there for anyone who didn’t get a gift for them. “You deserve a night out… nine weekends from now,” he said, suggesting the movie would make a great date night.

Best sketch of the night: Do I hear best sketch of the night? Sold!

A sketch as gimmicky as this one — in which the premise is two auctioneers (Damon and Sherman) are having a marriage-ending fight — only works if the performers are up to the task, and luckily both Damon and Sherman navigated the super-fast dialogue expertly and without looking like they were eyeing cue cards the entire time. The two went back and forth, auctioneering a discussion about weight, infidelity, drinking, their sex life and, eventually, terms of their divorce in front of their four young sons (who, adorably, hold up little numbered signs. Yes, they were played by adult cast members.). Even for “SNL” and for the last-sketch-of-the-night slot, it was a bold sketch for live TV and Damon and Sherman expertly walked the tightrope on this one.

Also good: Your mom will only make it through 23 minutes of this

“SNL” is no stranger to spiky sketch comedy takes on motherhood: remember “Mom Jeans?” For this year’s Mother’s Day take, it presented “Mom: The Movie,” a film devoid of conflict or dramatic tension because “Moms have enough stress. Why not let them feel good for a day?” Ashley Padilla plays the mom in the film, enjoying argument-free time with her kids (Jeremy Culhane, Tommy Brennan and Veronika Slowikowska), who only deliver good news. She’s married to Matt Damon, making her Rhonda Damon, and they met when he noticed her giant turquoise necklace after a movie screening. The film is streaming where moms are expected to find it: on HomeGoods Plus.

‘Weekend Update’ winner: This ‘Update’ segment is bananas — the round kind

This week’s “Update” featured three guest segments. Hernández and Day played kamikaze dolphins who work for the government, giving them a sense of porpoise (their joke, not mine). Jane Wickline expressed her anger at people caring that she’s always late in a funny musical rant. But Culhane’s return as Tucker Carlson continued a dead-on impersonation that covered several topics, including the Met Gala’s wild outfits, the new Michael Jackson biopic, and why eating round bananas is less gay than eating traditionally shaped ones. Culhane’s impression is a thing of beauty, and this time it leaned harder into Carlson’s tendency to express things from a very white point of view. In describing ASAP Rocky’s pink robe from the Met Gala, he said the performer was, “Wearing my least favorite color … African-American.”

It is Ramadan, and Bintu Suleiman, a 55-year-old mother and trader from Ngoshe in Borno State, North East Nigeria, is about to break her fast with her family.

Then, the gunshots begin, and within the hour, her home is on fire. As the terrorists round people up, she manages to slip away with her children and grandchildren into the bush. Later, she realises four of them did not make it with her. They are somewhere up in the mountains.

In this episode of #VOV, we see that, after the attack, Bintu, now displaced, is sheltering at a government primary school in Pulka and has no news of her children and grandchildren.

Reported by Sabiqah Bello

Voice acting by Rukayya Saeed

Multimedia editor is Anthony Asemota

Executive producer is Ahmad Salkida

May 6 (UPI) — Dominican journalist Yolaine Díaz, a former fashion and beauty editor for People en Español magazine, and her mother died in a fire at a residential building in New York City that also left a third person dead, 14 injured and more than 100 displaced.

The fire began shortly after 12:30 a.m. Saturday in a six-story building on Dyckman Street near Broadway in the Inwood section of Manhattan, according to the Fire Department of New York and the New York City Police Department.

Díaz, 49, had emigrated from the Dominican Republic to New York City as a teenager and studied journalism at Lehman College in the Bronx. She joined People en Español as an intern and later worked as a fashion and beauty writer and digital editor. During her career, she interviewed celebrities including Eva Longoria, Shakira and Jennifer Lopez.

Former editor-in-chief Armando Correa remembered Díaz, who continued to contribute to the magazine, in a statement that read “Yolaine had a unique authenticity and intensity. I want to remember her always camera-ready, with her style and her smile.”

According to People en Español, Díaz and her mother, Ana Mirtha Lantigua, attempted to escape through the building’s interior stairwell, but smoke blocked the exit and both became trapped. The journalist’s stepfather managed to flee through the exterior fire escape.

Authorities said the flames started on the lower levels of the building and quickly spread through the interior stairwell to the roof. More than 200 firefighters were deployed to contain the blaze.

The fire left scenes of chaos among residents, many of them members of Latino families living in the mixed residential and commercial building, which was constructed in 1910.

“I was sleeping and what woke me up was the smell and the alarms,” resident Michael Jimenez told local media. “When I went to open the hallway door, everything was on fire. There wasn’t time to grab the extinguisher or anything.”

Another resident told WNYW-Ch. 5 she had to flee via the fire escape after a neighbor opened the hallway door and found “black smoke as far as the eye could see.”

Marty Mejia, of the New York Fire Foundation, said one of the main mistakes during the evacuation was leaving doors open, which allowed the fire and smoke to spread rapidly throughout the building, according to reports by NBC New York.

Firefighters said apartments whose doors remained closed sustained minimal damage, in line with public safety campaigns begun after another deadly fire in the Bronx days earlier.

The American Red Cross assisted evacuees with blankets and logistical support, while dozens of families remained at hospitals awaiting news about injured relatives, some suffering from burns.

The cause of the fire remains under investigation. According to The New York Times, the city’s housing department database listed more than 100 violations at the building.