resident

Sept. 29, 2026 2:56 PM PT

WASHINGTON — President Trump’s administration was set to issue a last-minute reprieve Tuesday over the planned closure of a camp in Qatar that houses more than 1,000 Afghans who assisted America’s war effort or are the relatives of U.S. service members.

Secretary of State Marco Rubio is expected to sign off on a diplomatic note to Qatar extending for nine months the life of Camp As Sayliyah, which had been due to close Wednesday at the end of the U.S. budget year, according to two U.S. officials familiar with the matter. The officials spoke to the Associated Press on the condition of anonymity to offer details before the public announcement.

The decision comes months after Rubio told Congress that the U.S. was still in discussions with several third-party countries to take the 1,039 Afghans who worked as interpreters or in other roles helping the American war effort as well as relatives of U.S. service members who have been stranded in Qatar for more than a year.

Rubio’s testimony in June came after the AP and other outlets reported that war-torn Congo was among the countries where the Trump administration was considering resettlement.

The State Department would not immediately comment on Rubio’s extension for the camp but said it “continues to work toward a positive resolution that provides safety for these remaining people to start a new life outside of Afghanistan while upholding the safety and security of the American people.”

The department also repeated its claim that the camp is a legacy of an attempt by President Biden’s administration “to move as many Afghans to America as possible without properly vetting them” — an assertion that has been denied by former officials and refugee advocates.

The group of Afghans in Camp As Sayliyah includes those who fought or worked alongside the U.S. military between 2001 and 2021, with more than 70% of the camp’s residents being women and children, according to statistics from #AfghanEvac. The group has spent the last five years advocating for Washington to make good on its promise to resettle those whose service has put them at risk since the chaotic U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan and the Taliban’s reassertion of control.

“This is a victory for those people, and they’re going to have some semblance of knowing that they’re safe there because they’ve been worried that at any moment somebody’s going to come and rip them out of there,” Shawn VanDiver, a Navy veteran who heads #AfghanEvac, told the AP.

But he added that there needs to be a permanent solution to this years-long crisis.

Despite the camp’s reprieve, which protects those housed there from possible forcible removal to Afghanistan, residents have little hope of being allowed to enter the United States.

Upon entering his second term, Trump, a Republican, paused his Democratic predecessor’s Afghan resettlement program as part of a series of executive orders cracking down on immigration, including dramatically altering refugee admissions to focus on white South Africans. Only five Afghans have been admitted to the U.S. since October 2025, #AfghanEvac says.

The refugee changes left thousands of people who fled war and persecution — and had gone through a sometimes years-long vetting process to start new lives in America — stranded at places worldwide, including the base in Qatar.

Advocates have warned that if there is no alternative, the only other option for the group of residents would be to go back to Afghanistan, where they face likely reprisal from the Taliban.

In the coming nine months, the State Department said it would “continue to work to identify options for voluntary resettlement of all Camp As-Sayliyah residents.” It gave no additional details.

Lee and Amiri write for the Associated Press. Amiri reported from New York.

For Dylan Feierabend, there are few things more life-affirming than fishing for redtail surfperch and smelt at Centerville Beach in rural Humboldt County.

His favorite spot, where the Eel River meets the Pacific Ocean, is a few miles from the main road — too far to walk with fishing poles and an ice chest in tow. He instead gets there by driving a side-by-side, a small off-road vehicle, right onto the sand.

He might not be able to do so much longer.

If the California Coastal Commission has its way, vehicular access will soon be nixed at Centerville Beach County Park outside Ferndale — one of just a handful of beaches along the state’s 840-mile coastline where driving is allowed.

This month, the Coastal Commission approved a request from Humboldt County for a coastal development permit to rebuild a 0.17-mile segment of a storm-battered road adjacent to the fast-eroding beach — but only if the county stops people from driving on the sand.

Coastal Commission staff, in a 78-page report, said motorized vehicles threaten both sensitive vegetation and critical habitat for the federally threatened western snowy plover, a small, white-bellied shorebird.

“California’s dune habitats are particularly rare and important, so where driving could damage these sensitive areas, the Coastal Act requires that we protect them,” commission spokesman Joshua Smith said in a statement to The Times.

However, he said, the agency does not “have a one-size-fits-all policy on driving on the beach.”

But Humboldt County residents and officials decry the move as just the latest example of overregulation and government overreach in liberal California — and of the disconnect between its rural and urban places.

“What you see in Southern California isn’t what we see up here,” resident Joey Sancho told the Coastal Commission during its meeting in Eureka this month. “The beaches aren’t overly populated. They’re not being torn up by ATVs and so forth. But yet, [it’s] just one more thing just to take away from us up here in the North Coast.”

Humboldt County wants to make improvements to Centerville Road.

(Google street view)

Feierabend, a 36-year-old loan officer, told The Times: “It’s about slowly choking out the individuals that utilize the beach and gaining control under the ruse, or the guise, of conservation.”

The discord in Humboldt County comes as the Trump administration is taking aim at what it calls “environmental extremism” in California, with federal officials trying — largely over state objections — to open the treasured coastline to more offshore oil drilling, expanded rocket launches and floating nuclear reactors.

Amid this wider debate, beach driving has emerged as an unexpected flashpoint.

Last month, Republican gubernatorial candidate Steve Hilton called coastal commissioners “idiots” for their years-long effort to end off-road driving at Oceano Dunes State Vehicular Recreation Area, the only state park that allows recreational driving on the beach.

Cars, bikes and pedestrians share the sand at Oceano Dunes State Vehicular Recreation Area near Pismo Beach in February 2021.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

Oceano Dunes, near Pismo Beach in San Luis Obispo County, temporarily closed to off-roaders this spring amid long-running legal battles between recreation advocates and environmentalists who say all-terrain vehicles are tearing through western snowy plover habitat and sending clouds of unhealthy dust into nearby neighborhoods.

“Surprise, the Coastal Commission are trying to shut it down because they’re joyless bureaucrats who don’t want anyone to have fun,” Hilton said in a social media video as he leaned on a bright yellow dune buggy on the sand. “And it’s not just about fun. This is a real economic engine for this community.”

If elected, he said, he would create a state “Office of Fun and Freedom.” Its first task? Protecting off-roading at Oceano Dunes.

The campaign for Xavier Becerra, the Democratic gubernatorial candidate, did not return requests for comment.

In Humboldt County, residents have stressed that rural Centerville Beach is nothing like Oceano Dunes, where thousands of pickup trucks, ATVs and dirt bikes may carve through the sand on a given day.

Centerville Beach’s nearest town, Ferndale, the childhood home of celebrity chef Guy Fieri, has a population of just 1,500. Residents say the beach typically sees a handful of four-wheelers and side-by-sides — with most heading out to fish, not joy-riding.

“Centerville is not a beach anyone can just drive on — you’ve got to know what you’re doing,” said Shawn Griggs, a painter who surfs there most mornings. “It’s a very volatile beach with coarse sand. It’s steep right off the shore; the sand bars are transient.”

A view of Centerville Beach, near where Humboldt County is looking to repair a stretch of Centerville Road.

(Beau Sanders / For The Times)

Griggs, 57, described himself as “an environmentalist at heart” who appreciates efforts to protect threatened species. But he doubts vehicles are doing much harm at Centerville.

“With the amount of sand that is pushed off that beach every year and moved around, it’s hard for me to imagine that beach would be a super stable beach for the snowy plover,” he said.

The Coastal Commission staff report says the area is “moderately suitable for plovers,” but that “heavy human use” has degraded the habitat.

In Humboldt County, driving is allowed on a handful of county-maintained beaches, as well as portions of the Samoa Dunes Recreation Area, which is managed by the federal Bureau of Land Management.

Feierabend, who grew up next to Centerville Beach, said vehicles are not destroying the beach — the ocean is.

“No one’s going too fast,” he told the Coastal Commission. “No one’s driving through dunes. In fact, there are no dunes.”

Centerville Beach, home to some of the state’s fastest-eroding cliffs, has been shrinking for decades. The rising and warming sea has accelerated that process in recent years, and powerful El Niño-charged storms this fall and winter could wreak further havoc on the coastline.

A beach parking lot that once accommodated up to 100 vehicles has already washed away. And Centerville Road — a narrow county thoroughfare that provides access to the beach, a few rural homes and the federally managed Lost Coast Headlands — is so regularly slammed by powerful storm waves that it is often covered with sand and made impassable.

The road is what initially brought Centerville Beach to the Coastal Commission’s attention.

The Humboldt County Department of Public Works applied for a required coastal development permit to repair a short stretch of storm-damaged roadway, a project for which it had already secured federal and state funding.

The county has proposed elevating the road 10 feet and adding a new parking area. It also is looking to build a revetment — a sloping layer of rocks on the sand meant to protect the road from waves, at least for a few decades.

Humboldt County initially pushed to move the roadway farther inland, but faced resistance from private landowners.

According to the Coastal Commission staff report, beach erosion puts Centerville Road at “severe risk of being destroyed” within the next five years.

Given the urgency of the needed repairs, the decision to tie the development permit to beach driving felt like “a backroom deal stuck into the project,” Humboldt County Planning Commissioner Iver Skavdal said at the Coastal Commission meeting.

The commission is “holding the project, the residents and the county hostage,” said Skavdal, noting that seven generations of his family had enjoyed the beach.

Though the commission approved the permit on the condition beach driving will be stopped, it added an amendment after locals pushed back — giving Humboldt County an opportunity to write a plan to allow restricted driving, provided it would not harm sensitive habitats. That plan would have to come back to the commission for approval.

The Humboldt County Board of Supervisors still must decide whether to accept the stipulations of the coastal development permit before any construction begins.

The potential loss of driving on Centerville Beach — a unique attraction in California’s sparsely populated, economically depressed northwest corner — struck a chord with residents, about two dozen of whom sat through several hours of a Coastal Commission meeting on a Wednesday morning to speak about it.

“Families here don’t have a lot to do,” Sue Long, former mayor of the nearby city of Fortuna, told the commission. “There’s not a lot of the kind of entertainment you guys have, with waterslides and Disneyland and all of those things. … We count on nature.”

Mike Astry, who runs a small off-road recovery business pulling out vehicles stuck in sand or mud throughout the region, told the commission most people towed off Centerville Beach are out-of-town tourists who traveled just to drive on the beach.

Stopping vehicular access is “a big deal to a lot of people,” Astry, 49, said in an interview. “People driving from out of town that want to come drive on that beach are not going to come to our town and spend money on hotels and food.”

Astry, who also is an automotive maintenance supervisor for Humboldt County, started the towing business with his souped-up Jeep during the COVID-19 pandemic, when people flocked to outdoor spaces during lockdowns. Now, he typically gets one or two calls a week.

At Centerville Beach, he said, “I’ve had some pretty gnarly tows,” including some “little old ladies who thought, ‘Oh, I thought my Prius could go here,’ and it can’t.”

A few years ago, he yanked a Tesla out of the ocean. Powerful waves ripped off its bumper. The driver was from the Bay Area.

“People are just sick of California, their mandates, and this is just one more thing to add to it,” he said of the coastal commission decision. “It’s just a power trip. We pay our frickin taxes.”

Jennifer Savage — California policy associate director for the Surfrider Foundation, a coastal protection nonprofit — was one of the few speakers at the Coastal Commission meeting who focused on a different aspect of the county’s Centerville Beach proposal: the rock revetment next to the old, crumbling road.

Revetments and sea walls, which generally are not allowed for developments built after the Coastal Act took effect in 1977, “make a beach erode significantly faster,” she told The Times.

Erosion has been a known problem for a long time, she said, and “the failure to prepare doesn’t justify sacrificing the public beach.”

Gov. Gavin Newsom has signed a bill that prohibits third-party brokers from advertising, selling or transferring tee-time reservations at publicly owned golf courses without the written consent of the course operator.

The state legislation is a response to a network of brokers that had sprouted up around Los Angeles municipal golf course tee times.

These brokers, many of whom were in the Korean community, would gobble up tee times, then advertise them on social media, particularly the Korean app KakaoTalk. They charged up to $40 as a booking fee.

Getting tee-time reservations at L.A. municipal golf courses had long been difficult. But after golf influencer Dave Fink revealed evidence of the broker network to his viewers, the problem became public.

“This is an issue that affects everybody who pays taxes in the city, and anybody who plays golf as well, so I just felt like it was my duty to say something,” Fink said in an interview with The Times in March 2024.

After Fink’s videos went viral, the L.A. Department of Recreation and Parks announced an investigation into the practice.

The state has more than 200 municipally owned golf courses, according to Assemblymember Christopher M. Ward (D-San Diego), who authored the bill.

“Public golf courses belong to the public, and residents shouldn’t have to compete with brokers buying up tee times just to turn around and sell them at inflated prices,” he said in a statement Sunday.

The legislation “puts an end,” he said, “to this unfair practice and helps ensure local residents, seniors, students and families can continue accessing the public courses their communities support.”

After his existential suburban horror epic “Weapons” became an Oscar winner (for Amy Madigan’s chilling supporting performance as Aunt Gladys), filmmaker Zach Cregger has dashed off a fun little riff on one of his favorite video games. His “Resident Evil” reboot is the eighth film in the big-screen franchise based on the Japanese zombie survival game, though Cregger’s “Resident Evil” is its own beast — put those Milla Jovovich movies out of your head entirely.

There are, of course, a few shared strands of DNA in the screenplay by Cregger and Shay Hatten: an evil company, Umbrella Corporation, responsible for a virus that mutates humans into zombies and all manner of monsters, located in the lovely Raccoon City. But our hero, Bryan (Austin Abrams), a hapless medical courier, knows none of this when he takes a gig delivering what he thinks is an organ on the snowy mountain roads to the metropolis.

Abrams, who was a standout in the ensemble cast of “Weapons,” has another big movie out this fall in which he stars as the lone protagonist, “Whalefall,” and the two films comprise an apt survival thriller double feature. In “Resident Evil,” Abrams’ Bryan spends much of his lonely mission muttering to himself in annoyance and sometimes victory, much like a gamer would. During one self-reflective moment, Bryan yells, “Yeah! Video games!” elated at how his shooting is improving.

Cregger’s approach to “Resident Evil” is to seamlessly blend the cinematic with a gaming experience and his adaptation best mimics the feeling of playing an actual game or watching someone else play one. At one point, Bryan and a comrade he meets along the way (Paul Walter Hauser) marvel at the shooting skills of Maxine (Kali Reis) as if they’re watching her play the game too.

Immediately, Cregger establishes a camera that follows closely behind Bryan, a similar motif to the cinematography he used in “Weapons.” As Bryan starts to encounter the strange beings who appear on the outskirts of Raccoon City, the game mechanisms click into place. Different characters — villains and helpers — pop up along his journey, as well as different tools and weapons. He frequently encounters locked doors, obstacles and empty spaces that he has to explore. Cregger uses first-person-shooter point-of-view shots, with the long barrel of a rifle or automatic weapon lining up our sights; one running gag sees Bryan, completely hopeless with guns, having to shoot the locks off of gates.

What was already a very darkly funny and incredibly gross film gets even more disturbing as Bryan ventures into the Raccoon City hospital, trying to make his delivery. He encounters monsters that vomit acid or explode with zombie rats; one particular ward is full of undulating sacs of bloody viscera.

Cregger remains one of our finest horror image-makers, creating surreal and snowy landscapes that are as beautiful as they are disturbing: the red and blue lights of a flipped police car in a blizzard, dark pools of blood and mysterious footsteps, tentacles greeting and meeting each other, stomach acid decimating an elevator. With impeccable sound design and an eerie score by Ryan and Hays Holladay, Cregger delivers a textured, wholly realized world.

But our guide is just a regular guy, which lends to the charm. Bryan is dealing with relationship problems that add to the urgency of his desire to survive, but he’s also just a dude with questionable self-preservation instincts, which makes for a good adventure. He has an overwhelming desire to help, which leads to some ridiculous circumstances and is a quality that Cregger plays for laughs. Abrams plays the goofball well and we’re constantly rooting for him, even as his fortunes take a turn in a tragic reversal that we’ve seen in monster movies before.

Cregger wears his influences well and they aren’t just video games but pulled from the history of horror. Still, he blends it all into his own vision so it doesn’t feel derivative. While the unwieldy ending might get away from him, the tightly controlled and efficient stretch that precedes it is the work of a new master, one who delivers imaginative, terrifying and hilarious thrills and chills, whether he’s reanimating a dead franchise or dreaming up his own uncanny vibe. “Resident Evil” might be his most playful — and gooey — film yet.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

The city is also considered one of the most beautiful places in the world

A recent study by Go2Africa named the most overcrowded destinations in the world by analysing the number of visitors and comparing them with population figures. The experts said: “This gives us a better idea of where tourism might be overcrowding local areas.”

The data revealed that Vatican City is the most overcrowded place in Europe, with “an incredible 7,709 tourists to every resident”. The experts explained that “while this ratio is extreme, it comes with context: Vatican City, based within Rome, is just 0.44 square kilometres in size and is a place of pilgrimage and cultural significance for many people around the world”.

They added that its tiny population of 882 “consists mainly of clergy, diplomats, and officials, making it unlike any typical country”.

However, tourists describe the city as “too crowded to enjoy”. On TripAdvisor, one person said: “I have never seen crowds as big. We saw approximately 1,000 people lined up outside waiting to buy tickets.

“We had booked ahead, so we thought we had skipped the queue. We had, but when you get into the Museum, you join a line of more than 1,000 people filtering through, crammed together like sheep. It’s like this for the entire visit. It’s so busy that you don’t even get a chance to stop at any of the exhibits.”

Other people said it was “horrifically crowded” when they visited. “We went to the Vatican museums and Sistine Chapel and could not believe how unbelievably crowded it was.

“There was no way to see, let alone enjoy the art. For about three hours, everyone inched forward, carried by the mass crowd.”

Why are some destinations so overcrowded?

According to experts at Tourism Analytics, one of the main factors is that “the cost of international travel has dropped in recent years, making quick trips more feasible and frequent”.

Budget airlines have kept airfare “artificially cheap,” which encourages “more weekend city-breaks and long-haul vacations”.

At the same time, “accommodations via home-sharing apps are readily available, and package tours remain inexpensive”. This affordability, combined with flexible booking platforms, has lowered barriers to travel, leading to mass tourism.

California prison towns made a grim bargain decades ago.

They built their economies around an industry that relied on an ever-growing prison population, mostly from California’s major metropolitan areas. Then, about 15 years ago, legislators changed sentencing laws in ways that caused the prison population to drop, and the prisons started going away.

Gov. Jerry Brown oversaw massive reductions in California’s prison population in the 2010s. Gov. Gavin Newsom has closed five prisons since taking office in 2019. Now, some of those towns face difficult choices if they’re going to survive. One prison town is still fighting the closure, one is betting on businesses to make up its losses and a third — the town of Susanville — is remote, isolated and in deeper trouble than the rest.

Perched on one of the last major stops before Reno and the desert deep in the Lassen National Forest, Susanville has always been the kind of place California puts the things it doesn’t want to see, hear, smell or really even think about.

“Prisons in communities are not popular, so they tend to be located in areas that are desperate economically,” said Dan Newton, who worked for the city of Susanville for 20 years and was its city manager until recently. “That would describe this area.”

The city’s management was informed in 2021 that the prison was scheduled for closure. They went to court to challenge the closure, arguing the state’s environmental review process hadn’t taken into account the prison closure’s impact on the town. Newsom had a solution: A budget bill that exempted correctional facility closures from the environmental review process.

“There was initially a lot of panic,” said Susanville Mayor Mendy Schuster. “Houses went on the market. People left town. State jobs are good jobs with a good income, and they were going to leave.”

Since the closure announcement, the population of Susanville has fallen from a peak of about 16,000 in 2021, the year Newsom announced the prison would close, to 14,000 in 2024, the last year for which American Community Survey data were available.

Not all of the 1,100 former prison employees left town. Some transferred to a nearby prison, and some retired and stayed in the area. The elementary school lost 10% of its enrolled students between 2021 and the 2025-2026 school year.

The town’s remoteness is also one of its attractions. The surrounding area offers some of the most stunning vistas in far Northern California, sweeping views from highway lookout points over miles of desert rimmed by the mountains of the Cascade Range where it meets the Sierra Nevada.

The history of this area is one of the state or federal government telling its residents that it needs them — to mine for gold, to cut down trees for timber, to guard all the people they sent to prison — and then coming along later to tell residents that their services are no longer needed.

Susanville, the spot on the map, is an immutable intermingling of unique geologic formations. Susanville, the incorporated city, is running out of time.

“We’re heading toward insolvency,” Newton said before he resigned as city manager to take a position in Tehama County government.

The prison building boom

When the state’s three-strikes law still imposed mandatory life sentences on anyone with two or more prior convictions for violent felonies, California needed places like Susanville to put its skyrocketing prison population.

According to Brown University’s Prison Proliferation Project, states and the federal government operated 511 prisons in 1970. By the end of the prison building boom in 2000, that number had risen to 1,663.

The prison guards who lived in Susanville coached Little League and bought bread at the bakery downtown. They had steady jobs with top-tier health and retirement benefits; today experienced correctional officers earn $9,650 a month in base pay.

The town benefited from carceral policies that pulled prisoners hundreds of miles from their families, even as Lassen County counted those inmates as residents until 2022 and built around a prison boom that showed no signs of ending.

Until, of course, it did.

In 2006, overcrowding forced some of the state’s 170,000 prisoners to sleep in hallways and multipurpose rooms. But sentencing policies changed in the early 2010s to put more people in jail than prisons, and when people went to prison, they went for shorter sentences. Now, the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation is down to 90,000 prisoners, and has 8,000 more beds available than it has people in custody.

An emergent field of research in the last 15 years has focused on the era of the “prison bust,” when prison closures have outnumbered prison openings. Criminal justice policy researchers have found that the proposed economic benefits of prisons to small, rural communities were probably overstated to begin with.

“A large portion of prison jobs (were) filled by residents of neighboring towns,” wrote the authors of a 2024 article in the journal Punishment & Society. “Even those who moved to the area for prison jobs often settled in adjacent communities, providing little direct benefit to the local economy.”

Not only might prisons not be engines of economic growth, according to a seminal 2010 study from researchers at Washington State University, they might have stymied the development of other industries warded off by the presence of the prison.

Brown University associate sociology professor John Eason, whose book “Big House on the Prairie” focused on a prison in the rural South, found that the economic fate of prison towns is most closely correlated to when they were built, more than where they were built.

“Towns that adopted prisons earlier in the prison boom received a short-term boon compared to those that did not build, but the effects were not lasting,” Eason wrote.

Towns that built a prison early in the boom saw increased median home values and median income, Eason wrote, with reduced poverty and unemployment, but those effects did not last longer than a decade, which he called “a decay effect.”

But the residents and leadership of the city of Blythe, where the shuttered Chuckwalla Valley State Prison was built in 1987, are certain that their economic problems began and ended on the day in 2022 when the prison closed down.

Desert town tried to keep prison open

“We still haven’t got nothing from the state,” said Blythe Mayor Joseph DeConinck. “I hate to say it, but Blythe’s in the middle of nowhere, we’re the furthest from Sacramento, I just hate to say it again, we’re only a few votes out here.”

The mayor of the small desert city in Riverside County near the Arizona border watched the failed lawsuit over the Susanville prison closure and decided against filing their own litigation after Newsom ordered the Blythe prison closed just before Christmas 2022.

Instead, Blythe chose honey over vinegar and launched a lobbying effort to convince state legislators and the governor that the town needed some kind of economic rescue.

It has, so far, failed to produce results.

“We took these prisons when nobody else wanted them,” DeConinck said. “And we adapted to them because they became a strong economic generator for our area.”

Blythe’s population of 18,000 in 2022 had fallen to 17,400 by 2024, the last year for which census statistics are available. A drop of just 3% of the population might not sound drastic, but Blythe was in trouble long before the prison closed.

The population has been dropping since a peak of about 20,000 in 2010. A Riverside County civil investigation in June 2022 found that the city can’t pay its bills, its population is fleeing to Phoenix or the Coachella Valley, and neither the city nor its residents have bright prospects.

Six months after that investigation, Newsom announced the prison closure.

DeConinck said city leadership flew to Sacramento and tried, in vain, to get any traction. He recalled one meeting between the Blythe city manager and representatives of the governor in which he said the city itself was promised direct financial assistance.

The era of sweet-talking the state is over now, DeConinck said.

“They wouldn’t even have a conversation with us,” said Vice Mayor Johnny Rodriguez. “They’re not doing anything to assist us because they have this political mantra that all prisons are bad.”

Rodriguez said the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation and the Department of General Services sent representatives to a meeting on the future of the shuttered prison site. It didn’t go well.

“We had just one meeting with a potential developer who had some interest in it, and all the state provided was, what you can’t do, what they won’t do,” Rodriguez said. “They won’t give a timeline when they would start talking about it, so what’s that going to do?”

Newsom’s office referred questions to the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation.

Will Matthews, a corrections spokesperson, said in a statement after this article first published that the state sent $995,000 to the Riverside County Workforce Development Division in August 2024.

“State representatives met with local leaders in July 2024 to discuss these resources and other available assistance,” Matthews said. “There was no commitment to providing direct financial assistance to the City of Blythe.”

Matthews said until the Blythe prison site’s infrastructure is separated from neighboring Ironwood State Prison and its bond obligations are resolved, the property can’t move through the state’s process for dispensing with surplus property.

In a March hearing before a Senate budget subcommittee, Corrections Secretary Jeff Macomber said he’s eager to end his agency’s control over closed prison sites.

“I don’t want to hold on to closed facilities,” Macomber said. “Believe it or not, I have to provide a little bit of staffing. It’s unpopular, there’s security risks. We have people break in because who doesn’t want to run in, to break into a closed prison?”

Newsom began closing prisons with the deactivation of the Deuel Vocational Institute in Tracy, followed by the prison in Susanville, and then a prison in Blythe near the Arizona border. The state also ended its contract with a private prison in Kern County, a site now being operated as an immigrant detention center. A prison in Norco, also in Riverside County, is scheduled to close in October.

More prisons probably will close. The Legislature this year passed a budget that called for the state to shut at least one more. Its passage reflected Democratic lawmakers’ desire to save money — about $150 million a year per prison — by eliminating underused correctional facilities.

And some state prisons have astronomical deferred maintenance bills. The state auditor recently released a report estimating that five of them need repairs that would cost $2.4 billion.

Rodriguez is still fighting for a prison on the shuttered site. He has plans to pitch the federal government on opening a women’s prison there to account for the closure of the Federal Correctional Institution in Dublin, which closed after 10 guards were charged with sexually abusing the prisoners.

“Closing Chuckawalla was a mistake,” said Assemblymember Jeff Gonzalez, a Coachella Republican. “For our rural communities, these facilities are critical employers that support local families and local economies.”

Ready for change on edge of Bay Area

If any town was prepared for a prison closure, it was Tracy.

Optimism abounds, even on the city website, which promotes it as “one of the fastest growing suburbs of the San Francisco Bay Area.” The city has for decades been a bedroom community for commuters to the East Bay Area and San José.

The offers are pouring in to fill the abandoned prison site, said San Joaquin County Supervisor Robert Rickman, who was mayor of Tracy from 2016-2020.

“We’ve been in contact with folks in the agricultural industry, the education industry and even some of them who are interested in opening a casino,” Rickman said. “I would say [the prison closure] was neutral. The property isn’t sitting forgotten. South county is a very prosperous portion of our county.”

Prison guards and support staff mainly transferred to the California Health Care Facility in Stockton, Rickman said.

“I guess you’re never really prepared for a closure,” Rickman said, “but the good thing is that nobody lost their jobs.”

Tracy has the advantages that Susanville does not: It’s next to Interstate 5 along a busy commercial corridor in a populated and growing section of the state. Tracy also doesn’t have the drawbacks of Blythe and the Inland Empire desert — the weather never gets too hot, and there is reliable access to water.

Instead of challenging the state government like Blythe, Rickman gets to play host and pitch man to businesses.

Back in Susanville, it’s been a struggle to get any business to return calls.

Hard choices in Susanville

“For the last two years, we’ve adopted deficit budgets,” said Newton, the erstwhile city manager. “We’re deficit spending in order to fill public safety vacancies, and expenditure increases are outpacing our revenue increases.

“It’s going to start eating at our cash reserves.”

The town is hoping some industry — any industry — can come in and save it. City leaders have little hope for state assistance. But the city also has its own limitations.

First, Newton said, it’s hard to make a businesses on the border of California and Nevada choose California, with its higher taxes and stern regulatory environment. That choice in finance terms is known as regulatory arbitrage.

Second, industry needs power, and Susanville doesn’t have a lot of power on the grid, nor the infrastructure to support it. A bad thunderstorm can knock out the lights to half the city. The city’s transmission lines can’t handle the wattage demanded by heavy industry.

Third, the city and county’s limited population is working against it. Prisons force people to work and live in an area, and the state supplies the workforce. But there is no big workforce base on which to draw for any industry. When the prisons close, the guards transfer to new locations or retire and leave the rural, geographically isolated area.

The pandemic didn’t help. Downtown businesses were already struggling when people started buying more retail goods online, a trend that didn’t abate when lockdowns ended, Schuster said.

Now, some of the largest tax generators in town are on sales from online shopping and fuel taxes — people stop in town to get gas because Susanville has the only gas stations for 20 miles in any direction.

A baseball grandstand burned down last year, and in March, a lumber mill that employed about 30 people caught fire. No one was injured, but the mill burned to the ground.

Now the 8,000 people in this remote corner of California have to ask themselves what more they can wring from the land, what more they can take and what more it can yield. One idea includes a new truck stop.

Whatever salvation comes for the town, if any salvation comes at all, won’t be at the hands of the state government that built a prison and then took it away, Newton said.

“No one is coming to save us.”

This article was updated to include information that the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation shared after publication.

Duara writes for CalMatters.

Los Angeles County launched a probe into Farmers Insurance Company’s handling of claims by policyholders impacted by last year’s devastating Eaton and Palisades wildfires, after a growing number of residents complained of delays, denials and underpayments.

In a letter sent to Farmers on Wednesday, the county’s lawyers said if the company is engaging in any unlawful or unfair business practices, it must immediately stop.

“Eaton Fire survivors did everything right—responsibly paying their premiums year after year—but when disaster hit, Farmers left them with a contaminated home and refused to pay for testing and cleanup,” said Los Angeles County Supervisor Kathryn Barger, who represents Altadena, in a statement.

“My constituents shouldn’t have to walk back into homes with lead and asbestos because an insurance company won’t pay for the test that would prove it’s there,” she added.

Farmers disputed the county’s claims.

“As always, we operate in accordance with applicable laws and regulations,” the insurer said in a Thursday statement. “We do not believe the inquiry accurately characterizes our actions or practices and will cooperate through the appropriate process.”

“Serving our customers during difficult times is at the heart of what we do, which is why each claim is reviewed individually, taking into account the specific circumstances of the loss and the coverage provided under the policy,” the company said. “We remain focused on handling claims with care, consistency and attention to each customer’s unique situation.”

County officials said that at a recent meeting with Eaton fire survivors, those with Farmers policies said the insurer had been slow or resistant to pay for toxin testing by qualified industrial hygienists, forcing residents to pay for it themselves.

The testing revealed that many homes were contaminated with unsafe levels of lead, asbestos, chromium, and other toxic substances, the county said.

The residents also told the county that Farmers has refused to pay for adequate remediation of the contaminants and declined to cover ongoing living expenses.

“After paying millions of dollars in premiums, policyholders deserve the benefits and support they paid for,” said Supervisor Lindsey Horvath, whose district includes Pacific Palisades. “Families whose homes survived the Palisades and Eaton Fires but remain damaged or contaminated should not be forced to choose between returning to an unsafe home and financial devastation.”

The new investigation comes after the county filed a lawsuit against State Farm on Aug. 31 for its handling of Eaton and Palisades fire claims. The county claims State Farm engaged in illegal and deceptive business practices that kept victims from receiving what they were entitled to under their policies. State Farm denied the county’s claims.