Frank Stoltze
is a veteran reporter who covers local politics and examines how democracy is and, at times, is not working.
Published October 3, 2024 3:49 PM
Former Los Angeles detective Stephanie Lazarus appears in court in Los Angeles in 2009.
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Al Seib/AP
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Pool Los Angeles Times
)
Topline:
A state parole board Wednesday rescinded parole for Stephanie Lazarus, a former Los Angeles police detective who murdered her ex-boyfriend’s wife in 1986. Lazarus, 64, spent more than two decades with the department before she was arrested for the murder in 2009.
The backstory: The case attracted national attention when detectives used DNA to identify her as the killer 23 years after the murder of Sherri Rasmussen. Lazarus was a 25-year-old patrol officer at the time of the killing. The case centered on DNA from a bite mark Lazarus left on Rasmussen’s arm.
The murder: Lazarus shot Rasmussen three times in the chest in the Van Nuys apartment Rasmussen shared with her husband John Ruetten, according to prosecutors. Lazarus had warned her ex-boyfriend not to marry Rasmussen, a 29-year-old hospital nursing director.
Governor intervenes: In November, a state parole board granted parole to Lazarus, but Gov. Gavin Newsom, under pressure from Rasmussen’s family and supporters, asked for an en banc hearing by the full board. The board ordered a rescission hearing.
The hearing: Lazarus spoke at the hearing. When asking for parole, she told he board: “Today I have learned that I cannot control anyone but myself, and I am responsible for my decisions.”
Rasmussen’s friends and family pleaded with the board to keep Lazarus locked up. At a previous hearing, one of the LAPD detectives who investigated Lazarus, John Taylor, said he believes Lazarus remains “fully capable of the level of savagery and violence that she perpetrated on Sherri.”
Next hearing: Lazarus will be up for another parole hearing within 120 days.
Topline:
A state parole board Wednesday rescinded parole for Stephanie Lazarus, a former Los Angeles police detective who murdered her ex-boyfriend’s wife in 1986. Lazarus, 64, spent more than two decades with the department before she was arrested for the murder in 2009.
The backstory: The case attracted national attention when detectives used DNA to identify her as the killer 23 years after the murder of Sherri Rasmussen. Lazarus was a 25-year-old patrol officer at the time of the killing. The case centered on DNA from a bite mark Lazarus left on Rasmussen’s arm.
The murder: Lazarus shot Rasmussen three times in the chest in the Van Nuys apartment Rasmussen shared with her husband John Ruetten, according to prosecutors. Lazarus had warned her ex-boyfriend not to marry Rasmussen, a 29-year-old hospital nursing director.
Governor intervenes: In November, a state parole board granted parole to Lazarus, but Gov. Gavin Newsom, under pressure from Rasmussen’s family and supporters, asked for an en banc hearing by the full board. The board ordered a rescission hearing.
Listen
0:44
Parole rescinded for former LAPD detective convicted of murder
The hearing: Lazarus spoke at the hearing. When asking for parole, she told he board: “Today I have learned that I cannot control anyone but myself, and I am responsible for my decisions.”
Rasmussen’s friends and family pleaded with the board to keep Lazarus locked up. At a previous hearing, one of the LAPD detectives who investigated Lazarus, John Taylor, said he believes Lazarus remains “fully capable of the level of savagery and violence that she perpetrated on Sherri.”
Next hearing: Lazarus will be up for another parole hearing within 120 days.
Adolfo Guzman-Lopez
is an arts and general assignment reporter on LAist's Explore LA team.
Published January 3, 2026 5:00 AM
Rebecca Gonzales was a groundbreaking mariachi musician in California whose professional career spanned nearly 50 years.
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Rebecca Gonzales collection, courtesy Mary Alfaro Velasco
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Topline:
Rebecca Gonzales was a trailblazer as first woman to play with a high-profile, all-male mariachi in the 70s. Her oral history is now available to the public at UCLA, one year after her death.
Why it matters: Gonzales had a long career as a mariachi in L.A. From the outside it was a tremendous success, but the interviews give an insight into the determination it took to break into what had been an all-male environment.
Why now: The manager of the UCLA oral history project says Gonzales’ story, and that of other people of color, is more important now than ever before.
The backstory: The founder of L.A. mariachi group Los Camperos saw Gonzales perform and invited her to join the all-male band in 1976. The group was the house band at La Fonda on Wilshire. She went on to have a decades-long career and inspired many musicians.
What's next: Gonzales’ wanted to see women in high-profile mariachis in her lifetime but that did not happen.
As the sole woman in the leading mariachi group Los Camperos de Nati Cano, the house band at famed La Fonda restaurant in the 1970s, and one of a handful of women in the scene at all, she was a rarity. Gonzales was not the first woman to play music in the genre, but she was the first to be asked to join such a high profile all-male mariachi in either the U.S. or Mexico.
A third generation American integrates a very Mexican genre
Rebecca Gonzales was born in 1953 in San Jose, California. Her mother was born in Arizona and her father in Texas. Her grandparents immigrated from Mexico.
“I never learned Spanish… I started taking Spanish at a community college,” she said.
She started playing violin at 10 years-old and would practice at home with her younger sister.
Rebecca Gonzales, center, joined Los Abajenos de Isidro Rivera before joining Los Camperos de Nati Cano in L.A.
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Rebecca Gonzales collection, courtesy Mary Alvaro Velasco.
)
“I was an average student. I mean, the only thing I was really good at was music,” she said.
And she was painfully shy, she said. But that all changed when she was 16 and had her first boyfriend.
“He was a musician, so we had that in common, and we would go to concerts all the time. And back then, there was fantastic concerts going on at the Fillmore in San Francisco, where he was, an hour drive from my house,” Gonzales said. That's where she saw Carlos Santana, Jethro Tull and other late 60s rock stars.
Those experiences fed her love of many musical genres, but her music studies still focused on classical violin.
Mariachi wasn’t part of her cultural upbringing. Her father liked and played norteño, the accordion-focused music played by small musical groups on either side of the U.S.-Mexico border.
But when she signed up for a mariachi class at San Jose City College after graduating high school, it was a revelation. The joy and smiles on the faces of the students in that class were contagious, a far cry from the serious face she made, she said, when playing classical music.
“I'll never forget coming home to let my father know that night. I said, 'You know what? This music is really great… I think this is going to be a big part of my life,'" Gonzales said.
She began playing and singing in local Mariachi bands. But that wasn't enough to leave classical music just yet. She transferred to Cal State L.A. and Cal State Northridge to continue studying classical music.
Her big break in L.A.
Mariachi’s pull, however, continued in L.A. The leader of a local mariachi ensemble asked her to join and she jumped at the chance. She also visited La Fonda, to hear what was arguably the best mariachi group outside Mexico at that time, Los Camperos de Nati Cano, the house band at the club on Wilshire Blvd.
Rebecca Gonzales, front-left, was the first woman to join an established all-male mariachi in 1976 in either the U.S. or Mexico.
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Rebecca Gonzales collection, courtesy Mary Alfaro Velasco
)
“My big break came when I… went there one night to visit,and there was my friend that I worked with in the mariachi in San Jose," who was playing for Los Camperos, she said.
The friend asked Gonzales to come up on stage. A few more impromptu performances followed, until the group's manager asked her to come back again so the founder, Nati Cano, could see her.
“He hired me that night,” she said.
Gonzales was not even 25 years old.
“That took a lot of guts. That's inspiring," said Mary Alfaro Velasco, an L.A. based bolero and mariachi performer who interviewed Gonzales for the archive. “That she went into this all-male, paisa-man environment, as a young Mexican American girl, pochita, that didn't even speak the language."
Gonzales spent eight years playing with Los Camperos, where she became a celebrity of sorts in the U.S. mariachi scene.
“A lot of movie stars used to come to La Fonda,” Gonzales said, noting actors Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Montgomery, and former Beatle George Harrison, who brought his Latina wife, Olivia.
There’s even a photo of her in a mariachi outfit dancing with President Ronald Reagan.
Rebecca Gonzales, left, dances with Ronald Reagan in a photo dated 1982, when Reagan was U.S. President.
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Rebecca Gonzales collection, courtesy Mary Alfaro Velasco
)
But it was not always glamorous. Gonzales told Velasco about some of the painful parts of being the first woman in such a famous all-male mariachi band.
“I remember her describing what it was like, playing in restaurants [when she was a young woman] and literally being assaulted, men touching her,” Alfaro Velasco said.
La Fonda’s house mariachi made it a tourist destination, including visitors from Japan. The group’s leaders recognized that and included songs outside the Mexican repertoire, like Sakura, a Japanese folk song that’s become representative of Japan.
“I would sing it… and they loved it because we're connecting with their culture,” Gonzales said.
Eight years of performing at La Fonda ultimately took its toll on her health. Patrons smoked inside La Fonda because it had not been banned yet. She began feeling sick, and asked that ventilation be put in. But, she said, the managers refused.
“That was one of the things that turned me off and made me want to leave the group,” she said.
With her story now in the UCLA archives, it's part of the historical record.
“[Mariachi] is such an important form… everybody who lives in L.A. hears mariachi music and nobody really knows very much about it in terms of the general public,” said Jane Collings, the project manager for the series.
The oral histories of Mexican Americans and other non-white people, she said, are very important in this day and age.
“There's a clear attempt [by the Trump administration] to erase this history and that makes the work of an archive such as this ever more important,” Collings said.
And it's the mission of the UCLA archive, she said, to keep those stories alive for current and future generations.
Fiona Ng
is LAist's deputy managing editor and leads a team of reporters who explore food, culture, history, events and more.
Published January 3, 2026 5:00 AM
Kevin Cooley and his family's lot in Altadena. They lost their house in the Eaton Fire a year ago.
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Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
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Topline:
Photographer Kevin Cooley takes photographs of wildfires for a living. A year ago, he and his family lost their home in the Eaton Fire.
The story: LAist has been following Cooley's life in the year since the January fire, as he ponders the long road ahead. The photographs he has taken in Altadena have helped to keep him anchored. He'd drive up to the neighborhood as many as several times a week to shoot anything that caught his eyes.
The context: It began with wildflowers and plants that pushed out from the fire rubble. And recently, Cooley has turned his lens on some of the folks who are living on their lots in makeshift dwellings. They call themselves, he said, "the homesteaders."
Read on ... for the story and to see the photographs that have led Cooley home.
The pull of Altadena has never let up for Kevin Cooley and his family — through fire, debris and the long, current stretch where the lot that once held their house on El Molino Avenue has sat barren.
"There's no more fire debris. It's all gone. I mean, there's certainly a reminder of the fire everywhere," Cooley said. "It's just all construction ... and lots that are for sale."
A rock denoting Kevin Cooley's home in front of his lot in Altadena. Cooley lost his house in the Eaton Fire a year before.
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Fiona Ng
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LAist
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The Altadena lot where Kevin Cooley and his family's house once sat before the Eaton Fire.
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Fiona Ng
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LAist
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Kevin Cooley sitting next to his cleared lot in Altadena.
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Fiona Ng
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LAist
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'Like a rollercoaster'
"It's been a lot of fluctuation, like a rollercoaster," Cooley said of the decision-making process. "Just not knowing what the right thing to do is."
The January fire wiped out nearly a decade's worth of life he and his family built in Altadena, confronting them with what Cooley called a "blank slate."
In a whirlwind year of trying to put their lives back together, the thought of whether it's just easier — and less costly — to start anew elsewhere has crossed their minds.
"It's daunting but also kind of interesting to think about all the possibilities that you could have," Cooley said.
Along the way, Cooley, a photographer, turned to his art to make sense of all that was lost — and ended up forging an even deeper relationship with this place.
A picture of roses found growing on a lot on Calaveras Street in Altadena. Cooley says this photo best encapsulates his intention for the series.
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Kevin Cooley
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He told me about his first impression of Altadena — how it seemed "impossibly far away." How the interminable drive that day up Lake Avenue deposited him on the Echo Mountain trail — "one of the most beautiful hikes I've ever been on." How the neighborhood quickly became their entire world after he and his wife bought the place on El Molino, some eight years later.
" I walked my kid to school. My wife, Bridget, she would ride her bike to work," he said. " I mean, that's not what you think of as living in Los Angeles, but yet, it's so close in a lot of ways to everything in L.A."
Home sick
Since the fire, Cooley has been coming up to Altadena, sometimes as many as several times a week. He would drive around the neighborhood, over and over again, to take pictures of whatever might catch his eyes.
His route always begins at his lot on El Molino.
Aloe on Harriet Street.
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Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
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" It seems like a natural starting point and also a place to reflect on coming back, to seeing if it's really a place that I want to rebuild my life again," Cooley said.
About six months ago, he told me he was photographing flowers and plants that rose out of the fire's impossible ruins and burnt trees that managed to sprout new growth.
A redwood palm on Palm Street.
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Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
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A ponytail palm on Athens Street.
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Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
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The 'homesteaders'
Since Thanksgiving, he started to fix his lens on some of the folks living in temporary dwellings on their lots.
"They call themselves the 'homesteaders,'" Cooley said.
Homesteader Tom in Altadena.
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Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
)
Cooley took me on a drive, pointing out an Airstream on one block ... then a tiny box of an ADU down another ... then a trailer the size of a school bus ... then a tent ... then a giant RV. A sign in front of it says, "My entire life burned in Altadena and all I got was a stupid sign."
"They're all intending on coming back in a permanent way, but in the meantime, they have many different reasons for being here," Cooley said.
For some, they simply could not stay away.
An Airstream in Altadena.
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Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
)
"Being elsewhere has been really hard on them," he said. " They want to feel a connection to this place. They want to be back in Altadena."
Cooley photographed the homesteaders the same way as the wildflowers and the trees, with strobe lights illuminating his subjects against a darkened backdrop at dusk.
Homesteaders Michael and Brooke in Altadena.
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Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
)
" Those homesteaders are like the human equivalent of what the plants are doing," he said. " My idea was to have them match conceptually and visually."
As we drove around, with the majestic mountains sporting a dense coat of Kelly green as our constant North Star, it's impossible to miss the new phase Altadena has entered — as debris and wreckage gave way to neat, empty lots and "For sale" signs to now the wooden frames sprouting into shape on many blocks, all within a year's time.
A fact of life
And these in-between moments of resiliency — be it the plants or the homesteaders — are disappearing quickly.
"People are building so fast and some people have already built, finished and have moved in. Photographing people in these temporary conditions is almost, again, a race against time," he said.
But their resolve, their longing to be rooted, has reaffirmed his own decision to stay.
A rusted, beat-up VW bus in Altadena
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Kevin Cooley
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Courtesy Kevin Cooley
)
Cooley and his wife still will rebuild. They now need to settle on one of the two companies on their shortlist for the job.
This time, the family will have a home tailored to their needs. For Cooley, that means a proper art studio space, instead of working out of the garage like he did before.
Above all, their new house will be built with the next fire in mind.
" Wildfires are a fact of life in California," he has told me every time we meet. "That would mean building the most fire-hardened house possible."
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Multiple explosions and fires are being reported around Caracas. It is not immediately clear what is the cause of the blasts.
Where things stand: Videos circulating on social media platforms and first-person accounts indicate the explosions began at around 2 am local time (1 am EST.)
The backstory: The explosions come as the United States has been increasing pressure on the Venezuelan government of Nicolás Maduro, who the Trump administration accuses of leading a drug cartel dubbed Los Soles v— The Suns — Cartel.
Updated January 03, 2026 at 05:50 AM ET
This is a developing story.
President Trump claimed overnight that the United States carried out airstrikes in Venezuela and captured President Nicolás Maduro, following a series of explosions and fires reported around Caracas in the early hours of the morning.
In a post on Truth Social published early Saturday morning, Trump said the U.S. had "successfully carried out a large-scale strike against Venezuela and its leader, President Nicolas Maduro," adding that Maduro and his wife had been captured and flown out of the country. Trump said the operation was conducted "in conjunction with U.S. Law Enforcement" and announced a news conference for 11 a.m.EST at Mar-a-Lago.
The Venezuelan government swiftly accused the United States of launching what it called a "grave military aggression" against the country. In a statement posted on Telegram, the government said U.S. forces targeted civilian and military locations in Caracas as well as in the nearby states of Miranda, Aragua, and La Guaira, calling the alleged attack a "flagrant violation" of the United Nations Charter.
Videos circulating on social media platforms and first-person accounts indicate the blasts began around 2 a.m. local time (1 a.m. EST).
A journalist in Caracas, who NPR are not naming for safety reasons, told me they woke up to two explosions at La Carlota military airport, located across the street from their home. They saw two fires on the runway that were quickly extinguished. Immediately afterward, they reported hearing similar detonations in other parts of the city and planes flying low over Caracas for at least an hour.
Pedestrians run after explosions and low-flying aircraft were heard in Caracas, Venezuela, Saturday, Jan. 3, 2026.
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Matias Delacroix
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AP
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Many Venezuelan's have been sharing videos — which NPR has not independently verified — showing multiple explosions across the metropolitan area, including near a military base close to the presidential palace, Miraflores.
The explosions come as the United States has been increasing pressure on the government of Nicolás Maduro. The Trump administration has accused Maduro of leading a drug-trafficking organization known as the Cartel de los Soles, or Cartel of the Suns.
Since late August, the U.S. has deployed aircraft carriers and warships to the Caribbean. The U.S. military has struck dozens of small boats in the Caribbean and the Pacific it claimed were transporting drugs toward the U.S. At least 115 people have been killed in at least 35 known strikes on the vessels.
Maduro has repeatedly accused Washington of attempting to remove him from power in order to gain access to Venezuela's vast oil reserves, among the largest in the world.
Regional reaction has been swift. Cuba's President Miguel Díaz-Canel, a close ally of Venezuela that depends heavily on its oil, denounced the attack as "criminal." Colombia's President Gustavo Petro said his forces are deploying to the Venezuelan border and promised additional support "in the event of a massive influx of refugees." By contrast, Argentina's President Javier Milei, a Trump ally, praised the operation, posting on X: "Freedom lives."
Cato Hernández
covers important issues that affect the everyday lives of Southern Californians.
Published January 2, 2026 5:38 PM
The lawsuit claims Councilmember Hugo Soto-Martinez levereged his political influence to hurt the swap meet's business.
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Samanta Helou Hernandez
/
LAist
)
Topline:
The owners of the Los Angeles City College Swap Meet are suing the city for over $30 million in damages. They claim Councilmember Hugo Soto-Martinez is interfering with their business.
Why now? The lawsuit claims the councilmember has been trying to force one of the owners out for years to help local street vendors who regularly set up on sidewalks near the college. The owners say Soto-Martinez is using his influence to block enforcement of the city’s sidewalk vending law, which prohibits vendors near swap meets.
The background: Street vending grew near the college during the COVID-19 pandemic when the swap meet shut down. Many didn’t go back when it reopened.
The response: Soto-Martinez didn’t respond directly to the allegations but told LAist in a statement that as the son of street vendors, he believes they play a vital role in culture and the economy. He said he wants to see a system that supports safe vending and respects the swap meet.
Read on ... to learn more about the lawsuit.
LACC Swap Meet has been running in Los Angeles City College’s parking lot for nearly 30 years, but one of its owners says city officials are trying to destroy the business to support street vendors.
The owners are suing the city of L.A. for allegedly interfering with business and contractual relations at the swap meet. They claim the problems stem from Councilmember Hugo Soto-Martinez, who they say blocked sidewalk vending enforcement and other requests for help from the owners.
If they succeed with the lawsuit, which was filed in L.A. County Superior Court last week, they are asking for more than $30 million in damages.
Soto-Martinez told LAist he wants a solution for street vendors and the swap meet.
L.A. City Attorney’s Office did not immediately respond to LAist’s requests for comment.
Why the lawsuit is happening
According to the lawsuit, the swap meet owners claim that Soto-Martinez has a “personal vendetta” against the swap meet’s co-owner, Phillip Dane, and is trying to get him removed from managing the swap meet.
They allege that Soto-Martinez used his influence to allow the vendors to keep working outside the venue even though city law prohibits them from doing so near swap meets.
“The vendors were encouraged to do this and were even assisted in doing this, by the City and its officials, including City Councilmember Hugo Soto-Martinez,” the lawsuit reads.
It also says Dane called the Los Angeles Police Department multiple times to respond to problems with the street vendors, but his requests were blocked. His applications for temporary parking restrictions were denied as well.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, several vendors left the then-closed swap meet to set up on the sidewalk. As LAist reported, many didn’t return to the swap meet after it reopened, choosing to stay outside the college.
Some claimed Dane harassed them for doing so.
Sidewalk vending near L.A. City College has grown since then. Dane told LAist vendors are now on Marathon and Monroe streets, as well as Madison and Vermont avenues — too close to the college, he said.
Dane has asked the city to make the vendors move, which has upset some residents in the community. Since taking over, he’s faced allegations of being a gentrifier against street vendors.
Dane disagrees.
“Show me. How am I anti-street vending? By asking a vendor to please not set up right in front of the swap meet because you’re hurting your friends?” he told LAist.
The lawsuit claims that street vendors, led by Soto-Martinez, have left trash on the property and caused other problems creating “several million dollars” in damages each year.
The excessive foot traffic and cars drew away business, according to the lawsuit, lowering profits for the swap meet. It also says the owners have paid lower rent as a result, which Dane said has been happening for three years. Their rent is an unfixed amount based on profits.
The councilmember’s reaction
Nick Barnes-Batista, a spokesperson for Soto-Martinez, said his office wasn’t aware of the lawsuit until LAist reached out Friday.
The councilmember didn’t respond to specific claims in the suit but told LAist in a statement that as a son of street vendors, he understands the role they play in culture and the economy.
“It’s essential to bring together residents, vendors from inside and outside the swap meet, and LACC to build a system that supports safe vending while respecting the needs of the local community and the swap meet itself,” he said.
