Dolores Huerta, the labor leader, civil rights activist and co-founder of the National Farm Workers Association, smiles as delegates take photos at the California Democratic Party's 2025 State Convention at the Anaheim Convention Center in Anaheim on Saturday, May 31, 2025.
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Damian Dovarganes
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AP Photo
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Topline:
Dolores Huerta, who co-founded the United Farm Workers union to improve working conditions in the nation’s fruit and vegetable fields and coined the phrase “Sí, se puede!” that became a widespread rallying cry, has died. She was 96.
Why it matters: She kept a busy schedule well into her 90s, marching in protests and speaking in cities across the country about race, poverty, LGBTQ+ and women’s rights on behalf of her Bakersfield, California-based foundation. Huerta’s resolve cemented her place in history as one of the nation’s most influential labor leaders, civil rights icons and feminist activists. Her three-word Spanish-language slogan — which translates to “Yes, it can be done” — was grounded in the belief that people could affect change.
Homegrown activism: Huerta was born Dolores Clara Fernandez in 1930 in Dawson, New Mexico. Her father was a miner and union activist who went on to win a seat in the state Legislature. Her parents divorced when she was 3, and her mother took her and her brothers to California.
Read on... for more on Huerta's life.
Dolores Huerta, who co-founded the United Farm Workers union to improve working conditions in the nation’s fruit and vegetable fields and coined the phrase “Sí, se puede!” that became a widespread rallying cry, has died. She was 96.
Huerta’s family said in a statement through her foundation that she died Wednesday at home.
She kept a busy schedule well into her 90s, marching in protests and speaking in cities across the country about race, poverty, LGBTQ+ and women’s rights on behalf of her Bakersfield, California-based foundation.
Huerta’s resolve cemented her place in history as one of the nation’s most influential labor leaders, civil rights icons and feminist activists. Her three-word Spanish-language slogan — which translates to “Yes, it can be done” — was grounded in the belief that people could affect change.
Her work over the decades earned her a number of accolades, including the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the nation’s highest civilian honor. When then-President Barack Obama presented the award in 2012, he praised Huerta as a tenacious leader and joked that he had stolen her slogan for his 2008 campaign.
This year, Huerta sent shockwaves through the Latino community when she revealed that she was sexually abused in the 1960s by the farmworker movement’s co-founder, César Chavez, leading to the birth of two children, a secret she kept for 60 years and long after he died.
From the early 1970s on, Huerta’s life partner was Richard Chavez, César’s brother, and together they had four kids. She also had seven children from two earlier marriages.
Huerta said she had kept silent for so long because she feared that coming forward would compromise her life’s work and unravel all the progress made for workers.
When asked during a 2026 interview with the news organization Latino USA about keeping the secret, Huerta said: “It was my personal pain, it was my personal problem and, you know, I think it was worth it because it was my cross to bear. I’ll say it that way.”
Homegrown activism
Huerta was born Dolores Clara Fernandez in 1930 in Dawson, New Mexico. Her father was a miner and union activist who went on to win a seat in the state Legislature. Her parents divorced when she was 3, and her mother took her and her brothers to California.
Immersed in a melting pot of Mexican, Filipino, African American, Japanese and Chinese working families, Huerta learned from her mother — who owned a restaurant and hotel — about independence, compassion and activism.
Huerta was a young, energetic elementary school teacher in the farm-rich San Joaquin Valley when she decided to answer another calling after growing frustrated by her students’ poor living conditions.
“I couldn’t stand seeing kids come to class hungry and needing shoes,” she said in a 2017 PBS Independent Lens documentary on her life. “I thought I could do more by organizing farmworkers than by trying to teach their hungry children.”
Huerta’s early work with a civil rights group in Stockton resulted in her meeting Chavez. The two wanted to focus more on the plight of farmworkers, so in 1962 they started the National Farm Workers Association, which became United Farm Workers of America a few years later. She was a key leader and negotiator for the union for years.
She was among those who joined Filipino grape pickers on the picket line in what became the five-year “Delano Grape Strike.” With Chavez, she negotiated collective bargaining agreements and contracts with big growers, winning the first health and benefit plans for farmworkers.
Chavez, who died in 1993, once described her as fearless, committed to the cause and tough when it came to negotiations.
On the campaign trail
She met U.S. Sen. Robert Kennedy of Massachusetts during his visit to Delano in 1968 and became a volunteer on his presidential campaign, registering Mexican Americans in California to vote. Huerta was on stage with Kennedy after he won the California primary and he publicly thanked her moments before he was shot.
The assassination devastated Huerta, but she kept organizing for farmworkers’ rights.
Huerta was jailed 22 times for union demonstrating. In 1988, she was seriously injured while protesting Republican presidential candidate George H.W. Bush’s opposition to the UFW grape boycott during his visit to San Francisco.
Caught in a crowd, she was struck by a police officer’s baton, suffered three broken ribs and a pulverized spleen, and required more than a dozen blood transfusions. She reached a settlement with the city to resolve her claims.
After a long recovery, Huerta shifted focus and hit the road to campaign for women’s rights and encourage Latinas to run for office.
She also campaigned for Democratic Presidents Bill Clinton, Obama and Joe Biden. California Gov. Gavin Newsom considered her a close friend.
Fueled by courage
Emilio Huerta, one of Dolores’ 13 children, once pointed to his mom’s courage during an interview, saying it was one of the most significant drivers of her life’s work.
“To dedicate your life to building a dream of a union for farmworkers, to take on agriculture, which to this today is still a powerhouse. ... That took a lot of guts,” he had said.
Huerta learned the art of lobbying politicians. She secured financial aid for the unemployed and disability insurance for California farmworkers. She spoke out against toxic pesticides, pushed for amnesty for immigrants in the country illegally and fought federal guest worker programs.
By directing nationwide boycotts of grapes and lettuce in the early 1970s, she helped to create the economic pressure and political climate necessary for California to pass what would be the first state law recognizing farmworkers’ right to collective bargaining.
Her work earned her many accolades. She was the first Latina to be inducted into the National Women’s Hall of Fame and she’s received nine honorary doctorates from U.S. universities.
Schools are named in her honor in California, Texas and Colorado. Her image graces many murals, and streets bear her name, but she didn’t always win favor with more liberal activists.
In 2016 when she endorsed Hillary Clinton instead of Sen. Bernie Sanders of Vermont in the presidential Democratic primary, actor Rosario Dawson — a Sanders supporter who played Huerta in a 2014 movie about César Chavez — said Huerta had become “an instrument of the establishment.”
Dawson and Huerta eventually reconciled.
Guitarist Carlos Santana later oversaw a documentary based on Huerta’s life after the pair had a late-night conversation about music while in Hawaii. Santana, a Miles Davis fan, discovered Huerta was a huge fan of bebop legend Charlie Parker.
“I even met Charlie Parker. That’s my claim to fame,” Huerta joked during an interview with The Associated Press when she was 87.
It was her work as a leader within the labor movement that reverberated through the U.S. and beyond, making her name synonymous with civil rights. In the 2025 documentary “Seeds of Change: The Life and Legacy of Dolores Huerta,” she recounted her decades-long journey in activism and talked about the inspiration she drew from the women’s movement during the 1970s, saying it provided validation that she too could stand on the stage with other labor leaders.
“I hope that my legacy will be one of an organizer that organized to fight injustice,” she said in the film. “We want to give our children an inheritance of justice, right, not jewels or property or money because they’ll just fight over it. So the main thing to do is to give them this love for justice — and that is the greatest gift I think that any of us can have.”
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Associated Press journalist Brian Melley contributed to this report. Former AP journalist Russell Contreras also contributed reporting previously for this story.
Voters fill out their ballots at a vote center at Pacific Beach/Taylor Library in San Diego on June 2, 2026.
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Adriana Heldiz
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CalMatters
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Topline:
The Trump administration is demanding that almost every California county review its claims that noncitizens are registered to vote. Some of the information appears outdated, officials say.
Why now: Election officials from across California questioned the accuracy of the federal government’s methodology for finding noncitizen voters after the Trump administration threatened them with criminal charges last week. The counties on Friday were given 48 hours to commit to working with federal authorities and to segregate ballots from a list of people federal authorities claimed were likely noncitizens.
More details: The letters said the list of names were from the same group of 20,000 people that the Trump administration flagged as noncitizens and then sued California over, demanding that state officials not count those ballots until they verify the voters’ citizenship. State officials have questioned the accuracy of the data and have refused to comply, saying the federal government risks disenfranchising thousands of voters in an attempt to illegally meddle in state elections. On Tuesday, a federal judge appeared skeptical of the Trump administration’s legal arguments.
Read on... for more on the what local election officials found.
Election officials from across California questioned the accuracy of the federal government's methodology for finding noncitizen voters after the Trump administration threatened them with criminal charges last week.
The counties on Friday were given 48 hours to commit to working with federal authorities and to segregate ballots from a list of people federal authorities claimed were likely noncitizens.
The letters said the list of names were from the same group of 20,000 people that the Trump administration flagged as noncitizens and then sued California over, demanding that state officials not count those ballots until they verify the voters’ citizenship.
State officials have questioned the accuracy of the data and have refused to comply, saying the federal government risks disenfranchising thousands of voters in an attempt to illegally meddle in state elections. On Tuesday, a federal judge appeared skeptical of the Trump administration’s legal arguments.
Meanwhile, the letters counties received last week threatened potential criminal charges for election officials who “knowingly tabulate ballots cast by individuals identified by federal agencies as noncitizens.”
Butte County Clerk-Recorder Keaton Denlay said he received one such letter and a demand to not count ballots from a list of 47 people.
“Upon inspection of the list of names, it appeared to be a print screen of a poorly formatted excel spreadsheet with missing and jumbled information,” he said in a statement.
Denlay said he reviewed the list and found that 32 of the people were not on Butte County's active voter rolls and were not sent ballots. Seven others “did not have sufficient information … to match to our voter list with confidence” since the list only contained partial names, partial addresses, no dates of birth, no drivers’ license numbers or Social Security numbers.
Six of the names belonged to people who may not be eligible to vote, but Denlay said California law requires those challenging a voter’s eligibility to have extraordinary levels of proof.
“Given the overall inaccuracy of the list provided and its lack of specificity, I believe the Department of Justice has not met that burden,” Denlay said. “There will be no further action taken at this time.”
Fresno County Registrar of Voters James Kus also received a letter, but he said he couldn't tell how many ballots federal prosecutors wanted him to segregate, since the “not particularly legible” list was a printed sheet, in small font, and “not in a format that facilitates counting or reviewing.” He said the county already follows state and federal voter registration laws.
“We will not be deviating from those legal requirements for this letter,” Kus told CalMatters in an email.
Francisco Diaz, San Benito County registrar of voters, said his office received a demand with 33 names. A preliminary review found that some on the list weren’t registered to vote.
“Hand-delivering a letter via armed federal agents with an arbitrary 48-hour deadline does not circumvent state law,” Diaz said in a statement. “We will not be intimidated by agents with guns for simply doing our jobs, nor will we be rushed into compromising confidential voter data.”
Orange County Registrar of Voters Bob Page said he wasn’t notified of a letter alleging his county had 1,754 “likely aliens” on the voter rolls until after business hours on Friday.
That's because, he told reporters in an email, federal prosecutors had addressed and hand-delivered the letter not to Page but to Orange County Clerk-Recorder Hugh Nguyen, who handles such documents as marriage licenses and property deeds.
On Monday, Page said federal agents delivered a correctly addressed letter to his office, along with a “data storage drive.”
Page planned to respond by the Wednesday deadline, he said.
The messy voter lists counties described fits a pattern, said David Becker, executive director of the Center for Election Innovation & Research, a nonprofit whose mission is to restore trust in the American election system
He noted that the Department of Homeland Security recently claimed that Nevada had nearly 16,000 noncitizens on its voter rolls. DHS sent the state the names of only 185 voters. Nevada officials confirmed the voters had attested they were all U.S. citizens.
Becker said the Trump administration has been making “broad political claims made with great fanfare” only to have them “fall apart as they’re subjected to scrutiny.”
“I’m not entirely sure the DOJ wants to get into court and defend its evidentiary claims because I think they would fall apart, just as we’ve seen in other states,” said Becker, a former U.S. Justice Department attorney.
In federal court on Tuesday, Bill Essayli, the first assistant U.S. attorney in Los Angeles, insisted the federal list of 20,000 people was accurate.
“We stand by the reliability of the information,” he said. “We take our obligations and ethics very seriously.”
Julia Barajas
will be at the Day of the Dead event with LAist.
Published October 28, 2026 9:32 AM
Consuelo G. Flores first learned about the Day of the Dead tradition in the 1980s, at the Self Help Graphics community arts center in Boyle Heights.
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Courtesy of Stephen Blackburn
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Topline:
Consuelo G. Flores, a multidisciplinary artist and curator based in Alhambra, has been preparing for Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, with a group of community members since July. Their creations are now part of a larger community altar on exhibition at Gloria Molina Grand Park in downtown L.A.
About ofrendas: The altars, also called ofrendas in Spanish, feature gifts for the deceased. Often, these gifts are something they loved when they still walked this earth— a favorite drink, or maybe a favorite food.
What's happening Wednesday: Flores will guide community members through the outdoor exhibition. She will also teach them how to make paper flowers.
No experience needed: The flowers are easy to make, she said. After the first few, the process becomes automatic. People start chatting. “It's like a quilting circle,” Flores added. People begin to share stories about their loved ones. Strangers connect through their loss.
Read on... for details on how to join and learn about the process.
Consuelo G. Flores, a multidisciplinary artist and curator based in Alhambra, has been preparing for Día de los Muertos since July.
Over these past few months, she’s hosted workshops to guide community members through the process of making altars in honor of their deceased loved ones.
The altars, also called ofrendas in Spanish, feature gifts for the deceased. Often, these gifts are something they loved when they still walked this earth — a favorite drink, or maybe a favorite food. They’re also part of Día de los Muertos, which is traditionally celebrated in the first two days of November.
Their creations are now part of a larger piece by Flores. The community altar is part of a 10-day cultural exhibition at Gloria Molina Grand Park in downtown L.A., where other artists are making ofrendas of their own.
On Wednesday, Flores will guide community members through the outdoor exhibition. She will also teach them how to make paper flowers.
The flowers are easy to make, she said. After the first few, the process becomes automatic. People start chatting.
“It's like a quilting circle,” she said. People begin to share stories about their loved ones. Strangers connect through their loss.
At her workshops, Flores has taught artists new and seasoned how to make papel picado, a traditional Mexican folk art made by cutting intricate patterns into the paper.
Her small dining room is littered with art supplies: Tissue paper in bold colors. Pipe cleaners. Scissors. Glue.
Flores keeps a permanent altar for her family in the dining room. As she and the community members worked with their hands, Flores shared everything she’s learned about the tradition’s Indigenous roots.
“Everyone I've loved and lost has given me something,” Flores told LAist.
“My dad taught me how to read in Spanish,” she said. “My mom taught me to be strong. My brother taught me about social justice. And my ex-husband, who just died, taught me to really look at things through an artistic lens, and to not hold back.”
Join us!
On Wednesday, Oct. 28, artist and curator Consuelo G. Flores will lead the tour and a paper flower making workshop for LAist readers and listeners.
The event is free and open to the public.
The Ohtli Yollotl Curanderismo Collective, a Southern California-based group of healers practicing traditional Mexican Indigenous healing and ancestral medicine, will offer spiritual cleansings starting at 5:30pm.
There will also be drinks from Café Alegría and pan dulce for all. Get your free tickets here.
Keep up with LAist.
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'Red at Night' captures the spirit of the season at the Nimoy.
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Courtesy CAP UCLA
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In this edition:
Aerosmith and friends at the Bowl, spooky Halloween screenings, Taiwanese dance at USC, pick your pumpkin and don’t forget to vote!
Highlights:
The Hollywood Bowl’s two “Aerosmith and Friends” all-star concerts feature Guns N’ Roses, Billy Idol and Steve Stevens, Heart, the Black Crowes, Sammy Hagar, Tom Morello, Chad Smith, Nuno Bettencourt, Sully Erna and Run-DMC — along with a rare appearance by Aerosmith themselves. If you don’t wanna miss a thing, you have two chances to catch this event; they'll all play the historic venue on both Thursday and Sunday. – Lyndsey Parker
Head to Hollywood’s Bollman House to get a real Halloween horror fix. They’ll use architectural projection mapping to transform the home’s façade all weekend long with animated illusions and tributes to movies including Psycho, The Shining, Frankenstein, Jaws, Nosferatu, 1950s monster classics, and more. The Henry O. Bollman House was designed by Lloyd Wright (Frank Lloyd Wright’s son) in 1922 — a true piece of Hollywood history!
Taiwanese dance company HUNG DANCE, along with their choreographer and artistic director LAI Hung-Chung, make their L.A. debut in BIRDY, which uses a mix of electronic and Chinese classical music to create a unique story that explores the “freedom and limitations” in Taiwan and the journey to modernity through dance.
Trick or treat! Whether you’re dressing up as something silly (maybe grab a friend and go as Aerial Tramway and Red Heart) or scary (pick your favorite political meme), it’s Halloween weekend, so stay safe and have fun.
Plus, don’t let election research get you down — if you haven’t voted yet, there’s still plenty of time to check out our OC and LA Voter Game Plan guides. You can take your mail-in ballot to a drop box, or head directly to the polls on Tuesday. Plus, there are plenty of incentives to cast your ballot; just show your “I Voted” sticker for discounts and freebies like donuts, discounts on food and more at participating local venues.
The L.A. Louver opens its doors again for a special two-day pop-up exhibit of paintings from singer and renaissance woman Joni Mitchell. The 82-year-old songstress and grandmother of folk rock — who's seen a real renaissance onstage the last couple of years, as she's performed with Brandi Carlile and others — is showing 23 paintings in a series called "NEWS," done between 2001 and this year.
Chef Marcus Samuelsson in Conversation with Laurie Ochoa and Sandra Jackson-Dumont
Wednesday, Oct. 28, 7:30 p.m. Hammer Museum 10899 Wilshire Blvd., Westwood COST: FREE; MORE INFO
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Courtesy Hammer Museum
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Chef Marcus Samuelsson’s remarkable story spans from Sweden to Ethiopia to Harlem. He’s sitting down with L.A. Times food editor Laurie Ochoa and cultural strategist Sandra Jackson-Dumont to talk about how “the cross-pollination of cultural traditions in Los Angeles has enriched the food and the art that we make and consume.” Samuelsson will also sign copies of his newest book, Back to Green: Rediscovering a World of Delicious, Healthy Eating.
Aerosmith and Friends: California Dream On
Thursday, Oct. 29, and Sunday, Nov. 1 Hollywood Bowl 2301 Highland Ave., Hollywood Hills COST: SOLD OUT, RESALE AVAILABLE FROM $300; MORE INFO
Steven Tyler and Joe Perry will make their return with a Hollywood Bowl performance.
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Kevin Mazur
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Getty Images
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The Hollywood Bowl’s two “Aerosmith and Friends” all-star concerts feature Guns N’ Roses, Billy Idol and Steve Stevens, Heart, the Black Crowes, Sammy Hagar, Tom Morello, Chad Smith, Nuno Bettencourt, Sully Erna and Run-DMC — along with a rare appearance by Aerosmith themselves. If you don’t wanna miss a thing, you have two chances to catch this event; they'll all play the historic venue on both Thursday and Sunday. – Lyndsey Parker
Día de los Muertos events
Sunday, Nov. 1, 12 p.m. to 3 p.m. Forest Lawn Cemeteries Various locations COST: FREE; MORE INFO
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Courtesy Forest Lawn
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Forest Lawn’s Covina Hills, Cypress and Glendale locations will each host Día de los Muertos events featuring marigolds, handcrafted Catrina and alebrijes (spirit guides), artworks and community ofrendas (altars).
CAP UCLA: Red All Night
Friday, Oct. 30, 8 p.m. The Nimoy 1262 Westwood Blvd., Westwood COST: $19.14; MORE INFO
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Courtesy CAP UCLA
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CAP UCLA kicks off Halloween weekend with a screening of Los Angeles-based artist duo Beck+Col’s latest horror film, Red All Night, at the Nimoy. A traditional slasher turns psychedelic in this unpredictable horror, which will be accompanied by live performance elements. Forest monsters, zombies, the evil Smile and more collide in this surreal alternate universe.
LA Opera: Hercules vs. Vampires with live soundtrack
Friday and Saturday, Oct. 30-31 United Theater on Broadway 929 S. Broadway, Downtown L.A. COST: FROM $56; MORE INFO
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Craig T. Mathew
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LA Opera
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The LA Opera’s annual old-movies-with-creepy-slash-super-cool-operative-orchestration is simply one of the best Halloween nights around. This year, they're taking on the undead with a screening of a cult classic — Mario Bava's 1961 Hercules in the Haunted World — that was revamped (no pun intended) with an operatic score into Hercules vs. Vampires. It will be performed with a live operatic soundtrack at the United Theater on Broadway. Don’t forget your costume; Halloween night features a costume contest with a $10,000 grand prize!
HUNG DANCE: BIRDY
Thursday, Oct. 29, 7 p.m. USC Visions and Voices Bovard Auditorium 3551 Trousdale Pkwy., University Park COST: FREE; MORE INFO
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Ren-Haur Liu
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USC Kaufman School of Dance
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Taiwanese dance company HUNG DANCE, along with their choreographer and artistic director LAI Hung-Chung, make their L.A. debut in BIRDY, which uses a mix of electronic and Chinese classical music to create a unique story that explores the “freedom and limitations” in Taiwan and the journey to modernity through dance.
Hollywood Horror
Thursday to Saturday, Oct. 29-31, 7:30 p.m. to 9:30 p.m. Bollman House 1530 N. Ogden Drive, Hollywood COST: FREE; MORE INFO
Head to Hollywood’s Bollman House to get a real Halloween horror fix. They’ll use architectural projection mapping to transform the home’s façade all weekend long with animated illusions and tributes to movies including Psycho, The Shining, Frankenstein, Jaws, Nosferatu, 1950s monster classics and more. The Henry O. Bollman House was designed by Lloyd Wright (Frank Lloyd Wright’s son) in 1922 — a true piece of Hollywood history!
Jordan Rynning
has reported from MacArthur Park since early 2025, tracking enforcement and talking to people at the park about what they're experiencing.
Published October 28, 2026 5:00 AM
A man in a knit cap uses garbage to burn a fire in MacArthur Park, in the Westlake neighborhood of L.A., on Feb. 11, 2026.
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Jordan Rynning
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LAist
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Topline:
MacArthur Park is a center of L.A.’s overdose crisis — second only to Skid Row in both overdose deaths and violent crime, according to an LAist analysis.
Why it matters: More than 70 people died from drug overdoses in MacArthur Park last year alone, and the blocks in and around the park have averaged at least one new victim of violent crime every day for more than a decade. City leaders have promised change for years. Residents, aid workers and the people using drugs in Fentanyl Alley tell a more complicated story.
Why now: LAist spent more than a year visiting the park, talking to people who make their homes in and near the 35 acres that make up the city's largest urban oasis. Our series, which starts today, traces how decades of disinvestment left one of L.A.’s most densely populated neighborhoods to carry a crisis that observers say more affluent areas would never tolerate.
Few places in Los Angeles hold as much beauty and desperation as MacArthur Park, 35 disheveled acres in one of the West Coast’s most densely populated neighborhoods.
Every morning, crews of service workers walk through the park to hand out naloxone, a drug that reverses overdoses, and to dispose of used syringes left in the grass the night before.
The scene repeats daily. They patrol the park throughout the day, checking on the dozens of people smoking or injecting drugs at nearly any given time, ready to intervene when the next person inevitably begins to overdose.
Last year, 74 people died from drug overdoses in MacArthur Park’s ZIP code, according to the L.A. County Department of Public Health. That is an area smaller than 1 square mile around the park. Nearly 300 people died from overdoses in the five years before that, with only Skid Row losing more people to drug overdoses since 2020.
Those who come to MacArthur Park to use drugs typically gather near Alvarado Street, or half a block east in what locals know as “Fentanyl Alley.”
Across the park to the west, children play on soccer fields and playgrounds while parents look out for any spark of violence.
The need to keep watch is real — the blocks around MacArthur Park have some of the highest rates of violent crime in L.A., according to an LAist analysis of crime data from the Los Angeles Police Department.
As with overdose deaths, the only area that had more reported violent crime in 2025 than MacArthur Park was Skid Row, LAist found.
Some people who live nearby told me they rarely or never go to the park out of fear for their safety. Others are careful about which parts of the park they go to and when.
One father, Luis Escobar, said he feels safe taking his 6-year-old daughter to a playground in the park during the day. Nighttime is a different story, he said, as the park is filled with “zombie people,” what he calls the park’s many fentanyl users because of the way using fentanyl can cause people to hunch over at the waist and move slowly or not at all. Escobar said sometimes he’s seen people in the park get into fistfights or even pull guns.
More than 100 crimes have been committed near the park with knives or guns each year since 2023. Records from the L.A. County Medical Examiner show there were nine homicides within half a block of the park through 2024 and 2025. Four of the victims were stabbed; four were shot. One man was pushed into the lake and drowned.
For more than a decade, there has been an average of at least one new victim of violent crime every day in the park and surrounding blocks. Most crimes in 2025 happened on the east side of the park near Alvarado Street.
I spent more than a year talking to residents, business owners, aid workers and government officials to better understand the issues troubling MacArthur Park.
It quickly became clear that there was more to the story than just drugs and violence.
“Every challenge that urban America has faced is so visible and clear in MacArthur Park,” said Fernando Guerra, founder of the Center for the Study of Los Angeles at Loyola Marymount University. “The history of displacement, the history of movements, all are visible there.”
Many people in the area were hesitant to talk with me because of longstanding fears of retaliation from the gangs in the area. Of those who were willing to speak, some told me they didn’t want to use their names or be seen in front of a microphone or camera. They told me speaking out publicly could bring unwanted trouble, and some knew people who had been threatened or beaten by gang members.
City officials have made multiple attempts at reducing pervasive crime at and near the park, with mixed reviews and success.
“Every challenge that urban America has faced is so visible and clear in MacArthur Park."
— Fernando Guerra, founder of the Center for the Study of Los Angeles at Loyola Marymount University
A man smokes from a glass pipe in MacArthur Park on Apr. 13, 2025.
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Jordan Rynning
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LAist
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A man smokes from a glass pipe in MacArthur Park on Apr. 13, 2025.
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Jordan Rynning
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LAist
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Men prepare to smoke drugs in MacArthur Park on March 24, 2025.
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Jordan Rynning
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LAist
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A young man offers a torch to another man holding a pipe at MacArthur Park on March 24, 2025.
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Jordan Rynning
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LAist
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Men make an exchange at MacArthur Park on Apr. 19, 2025.
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Jordan Rynning
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LAist
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A man crouches near a small fire while others walk away in MacArthur Park on Apr. 19, 2025. People stay in the park late into the night.
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Jordan Rynning
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LAist
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People gather across Alvarado Street from MacArthur Park on May 18, 2026. Drug sales and use are often seen at the intersection of Alvarado Street and Wilshire Boulevard.
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Jordan Rynning
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LAist
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A young woman smokes from a pipe at MacArthur Park as DEA agents and LAPD officers conduct a drug enforcement raid across the street on May 6, 2026.
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Jordan Rynning
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LAist
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People stand on the sidewalk on Wilshire Boulevard on Sept. 2, 2026. As drug enforcement operations increased in MacArthur Park, more people have begun gathering on the nearby streets to use drugs.
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Jordan Rynning
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LAist
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One man talks about the pull of fentanyl
Standing in Fentanyl Alley in February of this year, I spoke with a young man who feels the pull of the drug. He goes by the nickname Deuce.
A note on sources
Some of the people who spoke to me for this series were involved in illegal activities, did not have legal U.S. residency status or feared for their safety if they talked to a reporter. In some cases, people agreed to use a first name or nickname to speak more openly about their situations. Others would only talk to me on the condition that they remain anonymous. I only used information from anonymous sources that was corroborated by others.
As we chatted about his favorite foods to buy from street vendors, he casually took out a thin, straw-like pipe, held the flame of a butane torch against a plastic bottle cap with a tiny dab of white powder inside and began to smoke it.
“I'm smoking fetty,” Deuce said when I asked what it was. “Fetty” is a common street name for fentanyl.
Deuce said getting high on fentanyl gives a sedating effect that feels different from other drugs he’s tried.
He said that people become dependent on fentanyl and feel they “gotta do it.” Even though he knows others are regularly falling into overdoses around the park, Deuce said he’s not afraid that it might happen to him.
“I know what I'm doing,” Deuce said.
On the walk with Deuce back toward the park, he talked about how he gets the money he needs to pay for drugs.
He said he just asks people for money sometimes, and he tries to be honest about what he’s going to use it for.
“If I want food, I'm gonna let them know that I’m gonna get something to eat,” he said. “But sometimes I might be like, ‘I’m just trying to get some drugs, would you be able to spare any change?’”
After walking around the corner to Alvarado Street, Deuce stopped at a storefront and motioned to an employee to ask how much he could get for a watch he had been carrying in his hand.
The employee took the gold-colored watch and handed him a few dollars in return.
“Good sell,” Deuce said.
Along with selling a jacket earlier in the day, he said he’d made $15 — all the money he owned.
According to court documents in a drug enforcement case that details drug prices at the park, that was enough for him to buy around a quarter-gram of the same powder he had just smoked. A recent study by Drug Checking Los Angeles and UCLA found that people who use fentanyl in L.A. County consume, on average, about 1,000 milligrams a day — four times what Deuce could afford that morning.
Far less could kill someone who is not used to the drug.
According to the Drug Enforcement Administration, just 2 milligrams of fentanyl can be lethal to someone who has not built a tolerance to opioids. Even people who use the drug regularly are at risk of fluctuations in the illicit fentanyl’s potency, which can vary wildly.
Within minutes of Deuce trading the watch, two young men came by. One muttered “fetty, fetty, fetty” under his breath, just loud enough for us to hear.
Deuce didn’t buy any this time. Instead, when one of the men saw my camera and accused me of being a snitch, Deuce came to my defense.
The challenges facing MacArthur Park are complex, and longtime observers say no amount of government effort could solve them overnight.
Guerra, who is a professor of political science and an honorary life trustee on LAist's board, told me that issues at the park are deep, driven by immigration policy, land use, access to resources and political representation.
By the late 1990s, the area had long been a notorious underground market.
That evolution, Guerra said, was driven in part by the 1986 Immigration Reform and Control Act. That Reagan-era law granted amnesty to about 3 million undocumented people living in the U.S., putting them on a path to legal status. It also required all workers to provide their employers with proof of their immigration status. That new law spurred a busy fake ID industry at the park.
Then MacArthur Park was hit hard by the crack epidemic. The neighborhood's reputation took more damage during LAPD’s Rampart scandal, in which officers responsible for patrolling the area were found to have framed people and stolen drugs. The scandal led to criminal prosecutions of officers, a consent decree with the Department of Justice and the creation of a special review panel. The takeaway for many observers at the time: At MacArthur Park, even the cops were criminals.
Altogether, Guerra said, the negative perception of the area led local governments and businesses to begin a “complete and total disinvestment” in the community.
It wasn’t just luxury retail stores and restaurants that closed their doors, he said. Local entrepreneurs took their businesses out of the area when they became successful, and even nonprofit organizations turned their attention elsewhere.
Opportunities for local communities to build their economic and political power were pulled out of reach, while the illicit market remained.
For decades, Guerra said local politicians knew about the area’s problems but could ignore them with little political backlash.
What the city is doing — and what residents say hasn’t been enough
For nearly four years, the task of making the park a welcoming place for residents and their families has fallen primarily to Mayor Karen Bass and Councilmember Eunisses Hernandez, who have each committed to making health and safety issues around the park a priority since taking office in December 2022.
Some residents have voiced their frustration with the officials’ lack of progress, and anger that the majority-Latino neighborhood has been left to face dangerous and unsanitary conditions they say would never be tolerated in other parts of the city.
Bass and Hernandez have acknowledged that a strained city budget has made it harder to provide all the services the area needs — even as they’ve promised to find a way.
The mayor’s office has continued to direct LAPD to increase the presence of uniformed officers in the area. Bass has also worked with Hernandez to provide social services and city infrastructure, including streetlight repair, in an effort to make the park safer.
“I wish we had the resources for it to be done overnight,” Bass told me in a February interview this year. “If we had had the resources, much more would've been done, but we are going to continue until the area is completely transformed.”
Hernandez told me she has gathered $27 million of city, state and other funds to support efforts in the park ranging from medical and overdose prevention services to street cleaning and infrastructure improvements.
In a controversial move, the Recreation and Parks Department also plans to start building a wrought-iron fence around the park this November in order to close it at night, which it says will allow city crews to keep up with necessary repairs.
“We can only keep one bathroom open at MacArthur Park at a time,” Hernandez told me, pointing out one example of the kinds of repairs the city has struggled to keep up with. “What tends to happen is that they break into it, so we close it down, and we open up the next bathroom.”
The wear on the park is constant, with new trash and graffiti quickly returning each time it's removed. Hernandez says the park doesn’t get a moment to rest. Fires and overdoses continue through the night, she said, and sometimes people overdose with no one around and are found too late.
“The fence is meant to just give the park a moment to breathe,” Hernandez told me, “so that every day in the morning when the park opens up, everybody — everybody — gets access to a clean, healthy park.”
Cleaning up in an 'underworld'
A short distance from its open-air drug market, MacArthur Park and the surrounding streets are full of restaurants, shops and public events that draw crowds and give local communities’ vibrant cultural and historic roots a chance to shine through.
People come from across L.A. to enjoy free concerts ranging from cumbia to punk rock at Levitt Pavilion, to taste Honduran flavors at Doña Bibi's or wrap their hands around the famous “Number 19” pastrami sandwich at Langer’s Deli.
Others told me they travel to MacArthur Park for help. Like Skid Row, MacArthur Park is a location that offers reliable free services that help provide basic necessities, including medical care and connections to housing. Several community and faith groups regularly offer free meals in the park, another draw in a county where researchers estimate about 22% of unhoused people get four meals or fewer a week.
People stand in line in MacArthur Park during a heat wave on Aug. 23, 2026, to get free food and water from a community organization.
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Jordan Rynning
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LAist
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Jaime Ramos told me it means a lot to have a hot meal and to meet people who want to help. He has been coming to the park during the day looking for housing, after a previous program he was in fell through.
Jaime Ramos stands in what some locals call Fentanyl Alley, near L.A.'s MacArthur Park, on Feb. 28, 2026. Ramos keeps a broom on his cart to help clean the area.
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Jordan Rynning
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LAist
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Like about 78% of unhoused people who come to the park, he spends his nights somewhere else.
Ramos said the park is an “underworld” that becomes too dangerous at night to stay nearby.
People gather next to a chain link fence along Alvarado Street on April 19, 2025.
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Jordan Rynning
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LAist
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He talked about how he got to where he is, and the challenges he hopes to overcome to pursue a better life.
While other young men his age were going off to college or starting careers, Ramos said he was serving an eight-year sentence behind bars.
Life on the outside didn’t stop while he was away, and when he was released, he could see how much he had fallen behind.
"From the age of 18 to now, I don't know how to be a grown man,” he told me. “I don't know how to manage my money, I don't know how to take care of basic necessities that other young men did have the opportunity to — and it's my fault.”
Service workers in the area say it's common for people recently released from jails and prisons to come there, looking for work, housing or other support when a criminal record makes those things much harder to find. Service providers worry that if there isn’t enough support when they get out, more people will return to the dangerous lives they lived before their incarceration, possibly falling even deeper into organized crime or addiction.
Ramos said he’s trying to take ownership of his future. He puts in the extra effort to keep himself clean — washed, shaved and off drugs — even though his surroundings are far from it.
He carries a broom to help with that too.
"From the age of 18 to now, I don't know how to be a grown man... I don't know how to take care of basic necessities that other young men did have the opportunity to — and it's my fault.”
— Jaime Ramos
Ramos said he dreams of becoming a barber, but that’s a lot harder when you’re living on the streets.
“I've gotten my equipment stolen maybe like four times now,” he told me.
Phones, IDs and other valuables are regularly stolen from unhoused people who come to the park, several people told me, and losing your phone or ID can derail attempts to get approved for government housing programs.
Ramos has also kept an eye out for people who may be falling into an overdose. Even with overdose response teams patrolling and Los Angeles Fire Department paramedics regularly responding to calls in the park, it often falls to people like him to step in and help.
“I don't know how many times — numerous times — I've saved people's lives,” Ramos told me.
He recalled a day not long before when he missed his bus and was waiting for the next one to come, when he saw a teenage boy start to overdose.
“I missed my bus for a reason, you know, thank God,” Ramos told me, saying he was able to keep the boy alive.
It was common in conversations with people in the park for them to tell me they had reversed multiple overdoses.
It feels good to bring someone back, Ramos said, but jumping in to give so many people naloxone, rescue breathing or CPR has taken its toll on him.
“I might go sit down somewhere and cry for 10 minutes, because it's emotional,” he said. “I just gave, you know, 10 minutes of my time — my breath — to see this person come back.”
Still, Ramos said that’s not the hardest thing he faces.
“At the end of the day, the biggest thing that I go through is the battle of showing people that I'm still human,” he told me.
