orange county

Several airports in California have refused to play a video featuring U.S. Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem blaming Democrats for delays due to the federal government shutdown.

The video, playing for travelers waiting in Transportation Security Administration security lines at airports across the country, comes as the government entered a third week of a shutdown after Congress failed to reach an agreement on funding legislation.

“It is TSA’s top priority to make sure you have the most pleasant and efficient airport experience as possible while we keep you safe,” Noem says in the video. “However, Democrats in Congress refuse to fund the federal government and because of this many of our operations are impacted, and most of our TSA employees are working without pay.”

Officials at multiple airports in California say they are not playing the video at their locations. They include: John Wayne Airport in Orange County, Hollywood Burbank Airport, San Diego International Airport, San José Mineta International Airport, Sacramento International Airport, Oakland San Francisco Bay Airport and San Francisco International Airport.

Officials from Los Angeles International Airport did respond to questions on whether the video was being played there.

Some airport officials have refused to play the video, calling it inappropriate. On Tuesday, the ranking member of the U.S. Senate’s Committee on Commerce, Science and Transportation called for Noem to be investigated for possibly breaking the Hatch Act by asking airports to play the video.

“Recent reports indicate DHS is using taxpayer dollars and federal assets to produce and air a video message featuring Secretary Noem, in her official capacity, making political attacks against Democratic Members of Congress,” Sen. Maria Cantwell (D-Washington) wrote in a letter addressed to the Office of Special Counsel and reviewed by The Times. “This message is not just false; it appears to violate the prohibitions contained in the Hatch Act.”

The act, according to the U.S. Office of Special Counsel, is to “ensure that federal programs are administered in a nonpartisan fashion,” as well as protect federal employees from political coercion at work.

Noem’s video was received by airports on Thursday and was followed up by a verbal request from DHS officials to play it at security checkpoints, multiple airport officials told The Times.

The reasons the video is not being shown for California fliers varies.

In Orange County, airport spokesperson AnnaSophia Servin said that Homeland Security requested, to the airport’s director, that the video be played, but a final decision has not yet been made. In Burbank, political messaging is prohibited, officials said. In San José, an airport spokesperson said there have been no shutdown impacts and therefore no reason to play the video.

At San Francisco International Airport, officials determined that the video wasn’t helpful.

“SFO limits messaging at our security checkpoints to information intended to help passengers be prepared to go through the security screening process,” a spokesperson said in an email. “Any content, whether in video or print form, which does not meet this standard, will not be shown.”

When The Times asked Homeland Security officials to respond to airports not playing Noem’s video, spokesperson Tricia McLaughlin responded with Noem’s video statement blaming Democrats.

But California airports aren’t the only locations choosing not to play Noem’s message.

Airports in Oregon, Las Vegas, Charlotte, Atlanta, Phoenix, Seattle have also opted not to play it.

“We did not consent to playing the video in its current form, as we believe the Hatch Act clearly prohibits use of public assets for political purposes and messaging,” said Molly Prescott, a spokesperson for the Port of Portland, which manages Portland International Airport, said in a statement.

Oregon law also prohibits public employees from politicking on the job.

“We believe consenting to playing this video on Port assets would violate Oregon law,” she said.

Officials in New York also pushed back against airing the video.

“It is inappropriate, unacceptable, and inconsistent with the values we expect from our nation’s top public officials,” New York’s Westchester County Executive Ken Jenkins said in a statement. “The [Public Service Announcement] politicizes the impacts of a federal government shutdown on TSA Operations, and the County finds the tone to be unnecessarily alarmist.”

According to the Homeland Security website, more than 61,000 TSA employees continue to work despite a lapse in appropriations, and a lack of a paycheck to employees.

Despite a handful of popular Día de los Muertos events facing cancellation due to community fears surrounding ICE operations, many annual celebrations throughout Southern California will continue to honor the dearly departed as planned.

Organizers for the Oct. 18 El Sereno Día de los Muertos Festival are working with Councilwoman Ysabel Jurado and her team to ensure the safety of its attendees during a precarious time for immigrant communities. Others, like the Museum of Latin American Art’s Day of the Dead Family Festival on Oct. 26, are placing an added emphasis on resilience.

This year, De Los is hosting a free community celebration to commemorate the holiday on Oct. 25 from 2 to 10 p.m. at the Las Fotos Project. Attendees can enjoy a community altar, a skull decorating workshop, face painting and more.

De Los will also be accepting submissions for our annual digital altar from Oct. 15 to Nov. 2. Community members can submit a photograph or memento to honor the memory of their dearly departed — pets included.

Here is a list of other Día de los Muertos observations and events taking place across Southern California.

Karen Garcia contributed to this reporting.

Until recently, no one would have mistaken Arianna Barrios for a wokosa.

The Orange city council member comes from O.C. Republican royalty. Her grandfather, Cruz, was a Mexican immigrant and civil rights pioneer who registered with the GOP in the late 1940s after Democratic leaders wouldn’t help him and other activists fight school segregation against Mexican American students in Orange County. Her second cousin, Steve Ambriz, was a rising GOP star serving on the Orange City Council when he was killed by wrong-way driver in 2006.

The 55-year-old has helped Republicans on policy and handled communications for the Orange County Taxpayers Assn. and the Richard Nixon Foundation. Friendly, smart, quick-witted and a total goodie-goodie, she corrected me last fall when I introduced her to my Chapman University history students as a Republican. To my surprise, the Orange native proclaimed that she has never been a Republican — she started out as a Democrat and is now an independent.

And that’s not the first surprise she’s sprung on me. Her recent rise as one of O.C.’s most vocal politicians opposing President Trump’s deportation machine has been unexpected — and welcome.

She called out her council colleagues in July for not approving a resolution that would have required federal immigration agents to remove their masks and wear IDs within city limits. She connects young activists to legal and financial resources and has participated in neighborhood patrols alerting people that la migra is coming. She has accompanied Orange residents to hearings at Adelanto’s immigration court and hosted a two-part video series for the civic affairs group Orange County Forum on how the U.S. got to this moment in immigration.

Why, Barrios has become so radicalized that she used the hash tag #brownwar throughout the summer and into the fall when posting immigration-related stories on Facebook. That stopped after her husband, an anti-Trump Republican, suggested it was a bit much.

You would expect this of a politician from an O.C. city with a progressive streak, like Santa Ana, Anaheim or even Laguna Woods. But not from Orange, whose city fathers have long cast it as a slice of small-town Americana free from big-city problems or national issues.

And definitely not from Barrios, whose demeanor is usually more baseball mom than strident activist.

“I’ve been asked multiple times, ‘What’s up with Arianna? This is not her,’” said Orange Councilmember Ana Gutierrez, who has seen ICE agents invade her street twice. “Well, when she cares about something, she’s loud.”

Working with Barrios on pro-immigrant actions is “like talking to a young person,” said 20-year-old Chapman student Bianey Chavez, who belongs to a local youth activist group. The two connected at a protest in their hometown’s picturesque Orange Circle. “It’s fresh air for someone of her age and power to be so open-minded and helpful.”

Anaheim Councilmember Natalie Rubalcava, who has known Barrios for over a decade, said she had “never heard Arianna speak on any issue like this in the past. But it’s great. Maybe she just felt empowered at this point. Maybe anger just boiled up in her, and she couldn’t be quiet anymore.”

That’s exactly what happened, Barrios told me over breakfast at a Mexican café in Old Towne.

The immigration raids that have rocked Orange County as hard as L.A. “just hit all of those buttons,” she said. Wearing a blouse decorated with orange poppies, the bespectacled Barrios looked every bit the polite pol that O.C. leaders had taken her to be. “Not only is it just patently unfair, it’s just so wrong. And it’s so inhumane.

“And one of the things that I can’t stand — and one of things I taught my kids — is if you see a kid being bullied, my expectation of you is that you go up to that kid and you go protect them.”

She credits what her father jokes is “an overactive sense of justice” to her grandparents, who ran a corner store in Santa Ana in the 1940s. Barrios Market became a meeting place for the families who helped organize the 1946 lawsuit that ended Mexican-only schools in California.

Their granddaughter didn’t know any of that history until her 20s, because her upbringing in 1980s Orange County was “like a John Hughes movie.”

“We didn’t even really think of ourselves really as, like, Hispanic — I mean, we all were, but it wasn’t the end-all be-all,” Barrios said. “We were all trying to be Valley girls.”

Living in Nacogdoches, Texas, for a few years in the 1990s “woke her up” to anti-Latino racism. But after returning home to find county and state officials passing anti-immigrant laws, she didn’t join the resistance, as many Latinos of that era did. Instead, Barrios focused on starting on her career in communications and later raising two sons.

“I remember even having my own stereotypical thoughts about [illegal immigration], not really understanding what the experience was, how people got here,” she said.

Things began to change as Barrios worked for school districts “making sure that kids had access. I didn’t care about their status.” It became personal once she was appointed to the Rancho Santiago Community College District Board of Trustees in 2011 and met refugees as well as recipients of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, which grants a reprieve from deportation to some immigrants who came to the U.S. as children. She hired some at her PR firm.

The council member brought up the 1986 immigration amnesty that Ronald Reagan signed and an unsuccessful 2001 bill co-sponsored by the late U.S. Senator Orrin Hatch (R-Utah) that would have created a pathway to citizenship for people who came to this country without papers as minors.

“That’s what’s so odd about where we are right now,” Barrios said. “The two biggest programs, to get people to protected status and to legal resident status, came out from under Republicans.”

After winning another four-year term in 2024, Barrios figured she’d spend her time trying to fix Orange’s fiscal crisis, especially because she thought “so much of what [Trump] was promising on immigration was rhetoric.”

An onslaught of federal immigration raids in the L.A. area starting in June made her realize things would be different. What finally sparked her furor was when federal agents handcuffed U.S. Sen. Alex Padilla after he crashed a June news conference featuring Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem.

“All of this garbage about [Noem claiming], ‘I didn’t know who he was and he didn’t identify himself’ was bulls—,” she said. “It was just bulls—. But if you’re willing to do that, you’re willing to do anything. There are no limits.”

She admits to sometimes “los[ing] my cool” while speaking out against Trump and his deportation deluge, arguing it’s necessary to spark change in a place like Orange, which has a long history of anti-Latino sentiment. Within walking distance from her home is a former movie theater where Latinos were forced to sit in the balcony into the 1950s. In 2010, the City Council tried to ban day laborers and voted to support an Arizona law that made it legal for local law enforcement to question people about their immigration status.

It’s history Barrios knows and cites now but that barely registered with her back then.

“If people want to be nasty to me, I can’t stop them,” she said. “But I can try and explain where I’m coming from so that, as I told my sister once, it’s not for the person I’m talking to, it’s [for] everybody who’s watching the fight.”

Her husband — who joined her at a No Kings rally during the summer and will join her this weekend at one she helped organized — feels “nervous” about her newfound advocacy, she said.

But her late grandfather and her father, a Democrat who was the first Latino elected to the Orange Unified school board, wouldn’t have hesitated to protest against Trump’s cruelty, she said. “They wouldn’t even think twice about it.”

Barrios asked for a to-go box for her chorizo and eggs, which she barely touched during our hourlong chat. Then she reached into a cream-colored Kate Spade purse to pull out red cards.

“Know Your Rights,” they read, delineating what people can and can’t do if la migra asks them questions.

“I carry these all the time,” she said, leaving some on the table. “I see people and go, ‘Here you go. Just take some, OK?’”

Some other year, under some other president, Republican Young Kim might have been a shoo-in to represent a majority-minority congressional district containing pieces of Orange, Los Angeles and San Bernardino counties.

Kim’s profile is as compelling as it is rare for someone running under the GOP banner: an immigrant, an Asian American and, perhaps most important, a woman in a year when female voter enthusiasm is surging. If she wins, she would be the first Korean American woman elected to Congress.

All of these facets might help her navigate the demographic changes that have been eroding Republican support for decades in the 39th Congressional District, where roughly two-thirds of residents are either Asian or Latino and immigrants make up about a third of the population.

But in this year’s tough midterm election, likely to be a referendum on Donald Trump’s divisive presidency, Kim will be forced to stitch together a majority out of disparate factions: die-hard Trump supporters, Trump-averse minorities and affluent suburban women. Kim, 55, finds herself in a race that’s virtually tied in a district where retiring GOP incumbent Ed Royce won the last three elections by double digits.

Republicans face big risks in contested California races as Democrats fight for control of the House »

On the campaign trail, she says, she’s faced questions about the president — his tweets, his policies, his tone. Kim says that Trump’s rhetoric concerns her and that his disparaging remarks about immigrants and women can be frustrating.

“I try to tell them I’m not running to be his spokesperson or represent Donald Trump in the White House,” she says.

Many GOP House candidates — in similarly diverse districts from the Virginia exurbs outside Washington to the bedroom communities east of Denver — share her plight.

In Southern California, Republicans’ tactics for dealing with Trump range from avoidance, as with two-term Rep. Mimi Walters of Laguna Beach, to a full embrace by Diane Harkey, who is running for a seat left open by retiring Rep. Darrell Issa of Vista.

Kim’s 39th Congressional District includes Chino Hills, Fullerton, Yorba Linda — the birthplace of Richard Nixon — and Diamond Bar.

Here, a taqueria can share a parking lot with a Taiwanese cafe. Spanish, Korean, Mandarin and Tagalog can be heard along with English in the upscale ethnic supermarkets that dot the area.

Will California flip the House? The key races to watch »

As she travels the region, Kim has tried to drive home two major points: that people living here know her, and that she understands their stories. She’s spent decades in the public arena, first as a longtime district staffer to Royce and then as a one-term state assemblywoman. She was once a TV talk show host on Korean-language television.

Kim speaks with a knowing ease about the sacrifices immigrants make for a shot at prosperity.

She often shares memories of interpreting for her parents and picking up cans and bottles on the beaches of Guam — a way station between Seoul and Hawaii, where her family later settled — to help raise money for their church.

“My personal experience of being an immigrant, having gone through what this diverse immigrant community has gone through, struggling,” Kim said. “Those are real life experiences that really helped me understand … the district.”

Kim, who owns a government affairs consulting business, moved to Southern California 37 years ago to attend USC. She lives in Fullerton with her husband, Charles; they have four adult children.

One recent Saturday at a campaign office in Rowland Heights, Kim bowed and greeted supporters with “Annyeonghaseyo!” — “Hello!” in Korean — before Saga Conroy took the stage.

“President Trump is not on the ballot, but his agenda is totally in this midterm election,” said Conroy, trying to pump up volunteers. “If we lose the majority in Congress, everything he achieved could be lost.”

It was a departure from Kim’s attempts to cast herself as an independent voice who will call out the president when she disagrees but is willing to work with him on policies that help the district. Kim’s campaign manager, wincing at the remarks, felt compelled to point out that Conroy isn’t a staffer but a volunteer coordinator for the California Republican Party.

“Voters want somebody to stand up to Trump and put a check on him,” said Ben Tulchin, a veteran pollster helping strategize for Kim’s opponent, Democrat Gil Cisneros. “A Republican who worked for a Republican member of Congress is not the person they’re looking for.”

As supporters snacked on spicy Korean rice cakes and egg rolls at the campaign office, one young woman approached Kim with a contribution and an invitation to speak at the next Rotary Club meeting in Fullerton.

“There’s three rotary clubs in Fullerton, so which one?” Kim said without missing a beat. “The main one,” the woman replied.

Kim insists that her strategy of showing up to dozens of groundbreakings, cultural fairs and community events will insulate her from national politics in a way she couldn’t manage in 2016, when she sought reelection to her Assembly seat.

Her Democratic opponent plastered the district with mailers featuring Kim’s face alongside the polarizing GOP presidential nominee and even released an ad disguised as a music video featuring lyrics declaring “Young Kim is like Donald Trump.” It contributed to her loss in the swing district.

Back then, Kim tried to sidestep the issue, saying she’d never met Trump and calling the tactic “desperate.” This time, she’s drawing sharper distinctions between her views and the president’s.

In an interview, Kim maintained that her party has not been captured by one man. “There is no party of Trump,” she said, banging her hand on a table. She’s running, she said, “because I’ve been here, I’ve been working here, I’ve raised my family here, I know the district…. I’m not running for the party of Trump.”

Still, Trump so dominates political discussion these days Kim can’t help but be drawn into the conversation. Her strategy is to ignore the president and his serial controversies as best she can. Kim, for instance, declined this week to comment on Trump’s mocking of Christine Blasey Ford, who accused Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh of sexual assault.

Coverage of California politics »

Kim has sought to carve out her own identity on issues by opposing, for instance, Trump’s policy of separating children from their parents who crossed the border illegally, saying it “does not live up” to American values. She vows to fight for a pathway to citizenship for young people brought to the country illegally as children.

She also breaks with Trump by supporting what he refers to as “chain migration,” which allows citizens to sponsor family members to join them. Like many in her district, Kim’s family has benefited from the long-standing policy. Kim’s adult sister, who had married an American serviceman and joined the military herself, was able to sponsor her, both of her parents and four siblings.

But Kim echoes Trump in other ways.

She called California’s so-called sanctuary state law an “affront to law-abiding citizens and a threat to public safety.” She praised a decision by the Trump administration to weigh in on a lawsuit against Harvard that alleges the university’s admissions policies discriminate against Asian Americans.

One of her first campaign ads emphasized how her family came to the country legally “and not because we wanted handouts.”

Those positions may help Kim hold on to support from the Republican base, but they alienate others who want no part of Trump and his presidency. There are frequent reminders of the fine line she walks.

Bernie Overland, a 78-year-old Republican, opened his door in Fullerton one recent Saturday when Cisneros, the Democrat, came knocking. Cisneros was there to speak to Overland’s wife, who’s a Democrat, but he first asked Bernie what issues he cares about most.

“Well, Trump is certainly one,” he said with a laugh.

He’s angry about Trump’s plans to build a border wall (he called it “a waste”) and is incensed by the risk of ballooning national debt from recently passed tax cuts.

“I just think he is taking this country down the garden path to disaster,” Overland said in an interview later. Overland says that he wants to send a message to Trump in this midterm election and that nothing Kim does and says will change his mind.

His plan: Vote for any candidate who is not a Republican.

[email protected]

Twitter: @cmaiduc

Rev. Jason Cook, a minister at Tapestry, a Unitarian Universalist congregation, wore his traditional white collar and a colorful stole resembling stained glass when he arrived at immigration court in Santa Ana last Friday.

For several weeks, Cook and clergy members from a cross section of religions have been showing up at courtrooms in Orange County, Los Angeles, San Francisco and San Diego to stand with immigrants during their deportation hearings. The practice was launched after faith leaders learned that many immigrants seeking asylum were being whisked away by federal agents after what had been billed as routine court appearances, and locked up in remote detention facilities without a chance to prepare or say goodbye to family.

They have sought to use their presence to comfort migrants and lend a sense of moral authority to the proceedings. They have also taken to the courtroom benches to bear witness with silent prayer.

On Friday, clergy members roamed the courthouse halls in search of Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents. If plainclothes agents sat outside a courtroom, it was a good indication that the migrants inside had been targeted for expedited removal once their cases were heard.

Cook knows the presence of clergy won’t necessarily change the outcome of the legal proceedings — though in at least one instance last month, ICE agents scattered when clergy showed up at a courthouse in San Diego. If nothing else, they hope to offer spiritual comfort, so the immigrants know they’re not forgotten.

“There’s a big piece of [our faith] that’s about welcoming the stranger, about treating immigrants with compassion and care,” Cook said. “We’re there trying to appeal to a higher authority than ICE.”

Many of the immigrants being detained at immigration court are asylum seekers who came into the country using the CBP One mobile app that the Biden administration had employed since early 2023 to create a more orderly process of applying for asylum. Migrants could use the app once they reached Mexican soil to schedule appointments with U.S. authorities at legal ports of entry to present their bids for asylum and provide biographical information for screening.

President Trump shut down the CBP One app hours after taking office in January. His administration has given ICE officials the power to quickly deport tens of thousands of immigrants who were granted legal entry to the U.S. for up to two years through the CBP One program, and is waging legal battles to roll back protections for hundreds of thousands of migrants from Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua and Venezuela who were granted temporary parole while seeking asylum.

Faith leaders say the work is an extension of their services for immigrants, who often attend their churches in sizable numbers. In the past, some places of worship have opened up their doors to shelter undocumented immigrants at risk of being deported. In L.A., faith leaders have organized food drives for immigrants afraid to leave their homes, as well as vigils and peaceful marches at the downtown Los Angeles federal building.

In the Inland Empire, clergy members have gone into grape fields to hand out “Know Your Rights” cards.

“Throughout history, across the world, clergy and faith leaders and spiritual leaders have played a really catalytic role in bending the arc toward moral justice,” said Joseph Tomás Mckellar, executive director of PICO California, the largest faith-based community organizing network in the state. “When they do it right, they leave space for others to walk the walk, as well.”

On June 11, the Catholic Diocese of San Diego reached out to area clergy to ask for help in expanding efforts to accompany migrants to their hearings.

Father Scott Santarosa, of Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish, said the letter garnered so much interest, they had to limit the number of clergy who could attend. That Friday, which also coincided with World Refugee Day, they held a Mass before arriving at immigration court.

“We weren’t planning to block or get in the way or do anything to disrupt. We just planned to be present and observe and say with our presence to migrants and refugees, ‘Hey, you’re not alone,’” he said.

One Venezuelan asylum seeker, who asked not to be identified for fear of retribution if she is deported back to her home country, had a hearing scheduled in L.A. County in early June with her children. She arrived in the U.S. in December after entering through the CBP One app. The June hearing would be her first.

She knew she was at risk of deportation and wondered whether to attend her hearing. She shared her fears with an area pastor, who offered to go with her. On the morning of her hearing, she arrived at court accompanied by three pastors and a translator. She felt protected, she said, when the judge granted a future court hearing and she was allowed to leave.

“Everything went well,” she said. “I feel as if it was because of the Christian support that I had at that moment.”

Cook, the Unitarian Universalist minister in Orange County, said he attends court at least twice a week.

Initially, ICE agents seemed averse to confronting religious leaders, and in some cases, left the courthouse when clergy members arrived.

But over time, Cook said, the agents have gotten more confrontational, telling clergy they must stay 10 feet away from agents. He said he watched one ICE agent push a clergy member against the wall after she tried to escort an immigrant out of court.

They have carried on, he said, because the work feels important and aligned with their mission of faith.

“What we are is conscience on display for these folks, and if that triggers shame or reflection, that’s a good thing,” Cook said outside a courtroom, not far from ICE agents.

Dave Gibbons, founder of the Newsong Church in Santa Ana, said he took a break from court visits after a Central American couple he was escorting got pulled away and detained in front of their child. He broke down in tears recounting the episode for his congregation. But he was determined to return.

“We believe it’s at the heart of the gospel,” Gibbons said. “There’s nothing more sacred than standing alongside those being marginalized.”

Rev. Terry LePage, a community minister in Orange County, has attended immigration hearings nearly daily. She spent Friday morning handing out fliers that notified migrants headed to hearings of their rights and warning that ICE agents were present.

That morning, clergy members encountered a Haitian man who had been granted temporary protected status during the Biden administration. He arrived for his asylum hearing without an attorney. He wore a crisp white shirt and carried his documents in a black case.

Clergy leaders urged him to contact his family and let them know that he might be detained. But the man, who spoke Spanish, was sure he would be allowed to return home.

Inside the courtroom, a Department of Homeland Security attorney argued that the man’s case should be dismissed, a request the judge granted despite the migrant’s pleas. Seated in the audience, Thomas Crisp, an Orange County chaplain, watched in dismay and offered a few last words of comfort: “May God bless you.”

The Haitian man made it two steps out of the courtroom before he was swarmed by federal agents and ushered down an emergency exit stairwell.

This article is part of The Times’ equity reporting initiative, funded by the James Irvine Foundation, exploring the challenges facing low-income workers and the efforts being made to address California’s economic divide.

Cleo Street Beach in Laguna Beach is a quiet coastal retreat just south of the bustling Main Beach. A favorite among divers, it’s home to the Cleo Street Barge (Foss 125), which sank in 1958 and now rests 50 feet underwater. Covered in sea life and corals, the barge is easily reached with a short swim from shore and lies within the Laguna Beach State Marine Reserve, an observation-only zone. Divers often spot Garibaldi, striped bass and leopard sharks exploring its preserved interior.

Though small, Cleo Street offers a peaceful escape, especially during low tide when more sandy space is available. From here, you can stroll north to Main Beach’s lively shops and restaurants or south to discover more secluded coves. Whether diving or relaxing, Cleo Street is a unique slice of beach life that blends tranquility with underwater adventure.

Construction, including replacing the stairs and building a landing spot at street level that’s ADA-accessible, is slated to begin after Labor Day and continue through May 2026. During construction, beachgoers can visit Cleo Street Beach by walking from St. Ann’s Beach to the south or Sleepy Hollow Beach to the north.

Best for: Diving, sunbathing on low tide

Parking: Street and metered parking are available.

Dog-friendly: Dogs are not allowed off leash at any time and are not permitted on the beach between 9 a.m. and 6 p.m. from June 15 through Sept. 10.

ADA-accessible: Not accessible. Head to Main Beach, where one manual and one motorized wheelchair are available on a first come, first served basis, from 7:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. at the lifeguard station. For more information, call (949) 497-0310.

What’s nearby: Enjoy breakfast or lunch at the Orange Inn. For casual Mexican food, head to the Taco Stand. Nearby, find surf gear at California Surf N Paddle and Costa Azul.

It’s a bitter feud the likes of which are seldom seen in law enforcement circles — or at least those that boil over into public view.

For over seven years now, Orange County’s top prosecutor and a decorated former cop have been locked in an acrimonious dispute that shows little sign of abating. Both parties have accused the other of fractured ethics and corruption, and even an independent arbitrator likened the situation to a simmering cauldron.

Damon Tucker, a former supervising investigator for the county, has alleged in a lawsuit that he uncovered potential evidence of money laundering, terrorist threats and extortion by his then-boss, Orange County Dist. Atty. Todd Spitzer. Tucker claims in his lawsuit that Spitzer and others quashed the probe and then fired the investigator as an act of retaliation, leaving him humiliated and shunned by law enforcement.

Spitzer has publicly called Tucker a “dirty cop,” and accused him of working with his opponents — including former Orange County Dist. Atty. Tony Rackauckas — to launch an investigation to hurt him politically. Tucker’s behavior, Spitzer says, was a “disgrace to the badge.”

Now, in yet another escalation of this Orange County drama, Tucker has called on the California attorney general, the U.S. Department of Justice, the State Bar of California and other agencies to investigate Spitzer; the OCDA Bureau of Investigation Chief Paul Walters; and former Chief Assistant Dist. Atty. Shawn Nelson, who is now an Orange County Superior Court judge.

“These allegations must be fully investigated,” Tucker wrote in a letter to those agencies.“Failure to investigate these men casts a shadow over our system of justice.”

Tucker’s call for an investigation of events dating back nearly a decade comes as the district attorney’s office is already facing increased scrutiny over its treatment of employees. Both Spitzer and Nelson face a potential civil trial next week over accusations they retaliated against female employees who say they were sexually harassed by former Senior Assistant Dist. Atty. Gary LoGalbo, a onetime friend of Spitzer’s who is now deceased.

Spitzer and Walters have declined to discuss Tucker’s accusations with The Times. Nelson, through a court spokesperson, also declined, saying judges were prohibited by ethical rules from discussing cases before the court or in media reports.

The California Attorney General’s office confirmed that it is reviewing Tucker’s complaint but would not comment further. The State Bar has also begun a review of the allegations and has requested more information and documentation, according to a letter reviewed by The Times. A spokesperson for the State Bar declined to comment or confirm whether a complaint was received, adding that disciplinary investigations are confidential.

The U.S. Department of Justice would neither comment nor confirm that it had received the letter. Tucker said he also sent a letter to California’s Commission on Judicial Performance. The commission also declined to comment.

A veteran investigator of nearly 30 years, Tucker was fired from the DA’s office in December 2020 over allegations he had initiated a unilateral investigation into Spitzer shortly after he took office.

Tucker sued the county — alleging he was fired and retaliated against for uncovering corruption — and in 2022 he won his job back, along with lost wages. Last year, he received a $2-million out-of court settlement from the county, according to Tucker’s attorney.

Kimberly Edds, a spokesperson for the district attorney’s office, said a non-disparagement agreement signed by Tucker and Spitzer as part of the settlement prevented the office from commenting.

Tucker’s accusations date to an inquiry that was begun in October 2016, when another district attorney investigator, Tom Conklin, was assigned to assist the Fair Political Practices Commission in looking into allegations of campaign finance irregularities by Spitzer, who was at the time an Orange County supervisor but was considering a run for district attorney.

In his recent letter to multiple agencies, as well as in his lawsuit, Tucker alleges the investigation into Spitzer was left unfinished and, even though he and another investigator at one point suggested it should be forwarded to the FBI or state attorney general, the investigation was never referred to an outside agency.

A year after the 2016 investigation began, Conklin’s report was leaked to the Orange County Register, and the newspaper reported that Conklin had been unable to corroborate the allegations.

The leak came at a key time for Spitzer, who had just announced his campaign for district attorney. At the time, he told the Register the investigation had been politically motivated by his political rival, Rackauckas, and that nothing had been found. At the time, a spokesperson for Rackauckas confirmed the investigation but declined to comment on the allegations.

The leak sparked an internal investigation in the district attorney’s office and, when the initial investigator retired, Tucker was ordered to finish the case.

Tucker was tasked with finding out who leaked the report, but after reviewing the case, Tucker concluded that Conklin’s investigation was incomplete.

At least 10 identified witnesses in the case were never interviewed, and several leads had not been followed, according to an investigative summary written by Tucker, and given to a senior deputy district attorney he consulted with in the case.

During his investigation, Tucker reached out to superiors and colleagues at the district attorney’s office and said the allegations against Spitzer needed to be sent out to an outside agency, such as the FBI, for an impartial review.

Tucker said that as he continued to investigate and prepared to send the case to an outside agency, things suddenly changed.

The day after Spitzer was elected district attorney in 2018, Tucker said Walters ordered him to stop digging into the accusations, and to remove any mention of Spitzer’s name from questions in his investigation, according to an investigative summary and sworn depositions, taken in Tucker’s lawsuit against the county. Two days later, Tucker was removed from the case.

In a sworn deposition, Walters confirmed he ordered Tucker to remove questions about Spitzer from his investigation the day Spitzer became the district attorney-elect.

“That’s where I have to tell Tucker, ‘You can’t be asking all these questions about Spitzer,” Walters testfied. “It’s not the case. And I make him redact all that stuff.”

Tucker maintains that, up until the election, Walters supported his investigation.

“I was doing the right thing,” Tucker told The Times. “This should have been sent out.” Walters declined to respond to The Times about that accusation.

However, a spokesperson for the district attorney’s office said it was Tucker who refused to turn over the investigation.

“He was given the opportunity and declined to do so,” said Edds, the D.A’.s spokesperson. “He was offered the opportunity repeatedly.”

Tucker disputes that assertion.

Spitzer has characterized Tucker’s investigation as being politically motivated, and has pointed out in sworn depositions that Tucker had donated to his opponent, Rackauckas, and was friends with Rackauckas’ chief of staff, Susan Kang.

According to county records, Tucker made a $2,000 donation to Rackauckas’ campaign in August 2018, after he’d been assigned to investigate the leak.

Tucker had also been critical of Spitzer during the campaign in multiple Facebook posts, before and after he took up the case.

“I think they sent him off on this fishing expedition to get something on me after the primary election in 2018,” Spitzer said in a deposition. “He’s investigating me while he’s making a major campaign contribution to my opponent? That’s not objective.”