The Brief

When Alberto Román was a boy growing up in the Mexican state of Durango, his father was often far from home. Most times, he’d be gone for months.

Román’s father, Javier, had a third-grade education. And when work was scarce in Mexico, he’d venture north to the United Sates and take whatever job he could find.

Javier washed cars. He worked in factories. He picked crops. He built houses.

“He was a guy you would find at Home Depot,” Román told LAist. “He did whatever it took to put food on the table and provide [his family] with shelter.”

Román missed his father terribly, and he relished the time alone with him. When his father would return to Mexico, they'd hike to a majestic statue of the revolutionary Pancho Villa, where Román and his father could also look out at their city.

Román did not know it then but, soon, that view would become a memory. When he was eight, his father returned; but, this time, Javier took his son, his daughter, and his wife with him back to the U.S. The family settled in Rialto, in California's Inland Empire. Suddenly, Román had a new home and new challenges to contend with.

A young Alberto Román (right) with his sister, mother and father in Durango, Mexico.

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Courtesy Alberto Román

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The move to Rialto unfurled a series of labels and experiences. Román became undocumented; an “English language learner”; a teenage father; a parenting student. With time, he became a naturalized U.S. citizen and, then, a first-generation college graduate who would one day earn a doctorate.

Today, Román serves as chancellor of the Los Angeles Community College District, which includes nine campuses and more than 200,000 students.

A lot of these students are parents like he was, Román said, and the vast majority of them have to work to help put themselves through school.

And many of them are also immigrants.

Leading LACCD's response to immigration policy

Román was appointed chancellor last May. Soon after, the Trump administration unleashed its militarized mass deportation effort, which included raids and a show of force throughout L.A. County.

One of the chancellor’s responsibilities is managing LACCD’s response to the Trump administration.

Undocumented college students in the U.S. are racially and ethnically diverse. California has an estimated 100,000 undocumented students, who make up a small percentage of the overall higher ed population. The majority of those undocumented students are enrolled in community colleges.

In conversation with LAist, Román referred to the ongoing raids and immigration detentions as “inhumane.” He also described the experience of a student whose father didn’t come home one night. After being detained by immigration agents, Román said, the student’s family “didn't know where he was for two months.”

The student was 20 years old when her father was taken. Overnight, she became the head of her household. Now, on top of fulfilling her responsibilities at school, she has to figure out how to keep herself and her younger siblings housed and fed.

To support students in mixed-status families, the district’s Dream Resource Centers provide them with legal support, temporary housing options, additional mental health services and food vouchers.

Alouette Cervantes-Salazar coordinates East Los Angeles College’s Dream Resource Center, which provides support and services for undocumented students; DACA and TPS recipients; and students in mixed-status families.

According to Cervantes-Salazar, the Trump administration’s deportation effort has transformed campus life. When the raids began last summer, she said, “quite a bit” of students who used to take classes in person moved to complete the semester online.

For some, Cervantes-Salazar added, online coursework has become preferable because it enables students to better juggle school and work. For others, the fear of getting to and from campus amid roving immigration patrols has become a decisive factor.

Whether the Dream Resource Centers' support will be enough to meet student needs remains to be seen, but Román takes their stories to heart.

“These are the stories of our community,” he said. “These are the stories of our students. These are the stories of their parents. And they are our stories, because they come to us for an education.”

From 'English language learner' to college graduate  

Román’s story in the U.S. began in the 1980s. After moving to California, it took Román about two years to learn enough English to communicate with his classmates. Until then, his time in school was lonely.

Back then, dual language immersion programs — an educational model that teaches students in English and another language (such as Spanish or Mandarin) to achieve biliteracy — were rare in the U.S. At Román’s elementary school, he said, they were nonexistent.

To help him learn English, Román’s educators placed him in a separate room for about three hours a day. He was given a stack of books. His job was to put on headphones, listen to audio recordings of the texts and do his best to follow along.

When Román tried speaking English, some students made fun of his accent. A bilingual child who struggled with Spanish was tasked with serving as his interpreter.

Román said he cried to his parents. “I'm not happy here,” he told them. "Let's go back.”

His parents made it clear that returning to Mexico was not an option. They’d been poor and had limited schooling, and they wanted something different for their children. Though neither of Román’s parents got to finish high school, he said, they were determined to send their children to college.

Román’s older sister graduated at the top of her class and went on to UCLA. Román aimed to follow in her footsteps.

But, when he was a high school senior, Román learned his girlfriend was pregnant. He was 17, and he wasn’t sure how fatherhood would square with pursuing higher education.

When Román told his parents there was a baby on the way, they remained steadfast. "Now you have all the more reason to go to college," his father told him. That fall, Román enrolled at UC Riverside.

To help provide for his son, Román got a job at Payless ShoeSource, where he worked up to 40 hours a week. When possible, Román stacked his classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, to keep the rest of the week open for work.

“It was tough,” Román said. “I was getting home at 10, 10:30 at night, trying to read, trying to do essays, trying to be a father.”

“In moments of weakness,” he added, he contemplated quitting school. But, like his parents, Román wanted a better life for his son.

Román and his son in the 1990s, when the now-LACCD chancellor was an undergrad at UC Riverside.

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Courtesy Alberto Román

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Román graduated with a bachelor’s degree in political science in 1999. When he crossed the stage at his commencement ceremony, his child, his parents and his sister beamed from the audience.

Today, Román connects his lived experience to that of students at the district, 70% of whom study part-time. “That’s because they're working, because they have families,” he said.

Last spring, Román watched thousands of new graduates embrace their loved ones after receiving their diplomas at a commencement ceremony at the Greek Theatre.

“When I see my students on stage waving their degrees — despite all the challenges they face — that award is so much more meaningful,” he said. “I know what they went through.”

The number of immigrants who have died while in Immigration and Customs Enforcement custody has reached an all-time high this fiscal year.

Twenty-nine people have died in ICE custody since October, the start of the federal government's fiscal year, already surpassing 2004's toll of 28, the previous record, according to government data.

The most recent death was of 27-year-old Aled Damien Carbonell-Betancourt, a Cuban man held in ICE custody in Miami. According to an initial report released by ICE on the evening of April 16, Carbonell-Betancourt was found unresponsive in his cell on the morning of April 12. The report lists the cause of death as a "presumed suicide," but the official cause remains under investigation.

The report said Carbonell-Betancourt entered the United States in 2024 without valid documents and later released into the U.S. via a program known as parole, which allows noncitizens to enter the country without a formal visa, often for humanitarian reasons.

He was arrested for resisting an officer with violence in 2025, and then transferred into ICE custody earlier this year, according to the ICE release.

The rise in deaths comes as detention numbers have skyrocketed during the Trump administration. Detentions are up more than 70% under President Donald Trump compared to the first year of the Biden administration. The Trump administration has carried out an unprecedented crackdown on immigration. Immigration officers have arrested and detained criminals in the country illegally, as well as many people without a criminal record and some migrants who are in the country with temporary protections from deportation.

There are about 60,000 people currently in immigration detention.

In a statement to NPR, DHS denied there's been a spike in deaths and attributed the increase to the large number of people in detention. DHS said as of April 16, "death rates in custody under the Trump administration are 0.009% of the detained population."

The agency added that ICE provides migrants with access to medical care.

"For many illegal aliens this is the best healthcare they have received their entire lives," the statement said. The statement went on to encourage detainees to self-deport. "Being in detention is a choice. We encourage all illegal aliens to take control of their departure with the CBP Home App," the statement said.

During a congressional hearing also on Thursday, acting ICE Director Todd Lyons said there are a high number of deaths this fiscal year "because we do have the highest amount in detention that ICE has ever had since its inception in 2003." Lyons added that the agency spent "almost half a billion dollars last fiscal year … to ensure that people have proper care."

He reiterated details noted by other DHS officials: that detainees get a complete physical within 14 days and are seen by a medical professional within 24 hours of being admitted.

"No death is what we want. We don't want anyone to die in custody," Lyons, who handed in his resignation hours after testifying, said. "I hope that's a policy of anyone that has to be tasked with detaining someone."

When asked how many people were still working in the Office of Detention Oversight, he was not able to provide a number.

Lyons was also asked about the delay in public reporting and tracking detainee deaths. On April 13, Georgia Democratic Sens. Jon Ossoff and Raphael Warnock sent a letter to Lyons and DHS Secretary Markwayne Mullin raising concern over the rising number of detainee deaths and noted that of the 49 deaths in custody at the time since January 2025, "ICE has issued an interim death notice within 48 hours in only 15 cases" and argued that reports contained less details.

"We are reporting. We are working on that timeline," Lyons said during the House hearing, agreeing that the detainee death reports were considered essential work even during the agency's funding lapse.

Facilities in Texas and California are the deadliest

Adelanto ICE Processing Center in Adelanto, Calif., and Camp East Montana in El Paso, Texas have each reported the deaths of three detainees, the most out of ICE's sprawling detention operation. 

According to ICE's initial reports, the deaths of the six immigrant detainees were attributed to a number of causes, including suicide, alcohol withdrawal, liver failure and kidney failure. Other detainees displayed symptoms like shortness of breath.

One of the deaths at Camp East Montana was ruled a homicide by the El Paso County Medical Examiner's Office.

Initially, DHS said that Geraldo Lunas Campos had died in Camp East Montana after experiencing "medical distress." It also claimed Lunas Campos had become "disruptive while in line for medication" and was placed in segregation. But later, the El Paso Medical Examiner's Office ruled his death a homicide due to "asphyxia due to neck and torso compression." The FBI is now investigating the death.Chris Benoit, an attorney representing the family, told NPR Lunas Campos came to the U.S. in the mid-1990s as part of a wave of Cubans immigrants during the balsero crisis after the fall of the Soviet Union.

"For all sense and purposes he is an American," Benoit said. "He's lived here for decades and raised his family here and his kids love him and miss him."

According to DHS, Lunas Campos had been convicted of multiple crimes, including petty larceny, unlawful possession of a weapon during a robbery and sexual contact with a child under 11.

In a court petition seeking eyewitness testimony, Lunas Campos' three children said they planned to file a wrongful death lawsuit.

Rahul Mukherjee contributed to this report.
Copyright 2026 NPR

Combatting bacterial and viral infections is getting tougher because of their growing resistance to drugs. Antibiotic drugs can no longer be counted on to conquer nasty bacteria. Antivirals don't always overpower the viruses. This is a huge problem but it is one that widely acknowledged and researched.

There's an additional medical challenge though, that matters a lot. Namely, drug-resistant fungi.

Yep, fungi.

It's a topic that doesn't get discussed much — and that worries Paul Verweij, professor of clinical mycology at Radboud University Medical Center in Nijmegen, the Netherlands. He says there's a "silence surge" in drug-resistant fungi and that it's mostly happening under-the-radar.

This is a particular challenge in lower-income countries.

"Look at, for instance, Candida auris [a type of yeast that can cause severe infections and is often drug-resistant] -- you need very, very strict infection control measures in hospitals, you need good diagnostics, good infection control, you have to follow-up with patients and that's just not available in these lower- middle-income countries," he says. "People will die, and you won't know they have a fungal infection. You wouldn't know if it was resistant."

Verweij teamed up with 50 scientists around the world – from Brazil to Nigeria to China — to call for action against drug‑resistant fungi in Nature Medicine this week.

NPR spoke with Verweij, who's been working on this issue for more than 20 years. His interview has been edited for length and clarity.

What's the link between agriculture and drug-resistant fungi?

Fungicides are used to protect plants against fungal disease. Everything — watermelons, maize, wheat, flowers — use lots of fungicides. If we didn't use the fungicides, you'd probably have a yield loss maybe of 30% or 40%.

The problem is that the fungicides are quite similar to the drugs we give to patients. So the fungus becomes resistant to the fungicide and, at the same time, our medical azoles [a class of antifungal drugs] do not work as well anymore.

The fungi which cause disease in humans are not causing disease in plants. So this is an unintended effect.

How does the resistance get from farms to hospitals? 

So the molds – the hairy fungi – have spores which are released into the air. These spores travel long distances. It's not really well-understood but the idea is that they go right up to these jet streams, very high into the atmosphere and then can travel for continents. We inhale the spores all the time.

How serious are fungal infections?

With fungi you have two types of infections. First, we have very severe infections, and they usually occur in [hospitalized] patients who have some kind of defect in their immunity. So, yeast found in the bloodstream or mold in the lungs. Second, we have infections of the skin, the hair and the nails, which are irritating but are not life threatening.

In the past 10 to 20 years, we see more and more resistance in fungi in both those categories.

There are very few studies looking at the clinical impact. We did a study in the Netherlands, and we found that if you compare an infection [where azole antifungal drugs work] and where it's resistant. There's about a 20% difference in mortality — you're 20% more likely to die. So that's a significant impact. And there's the new skin disease [Trichophyton indotineae] where you don't have mortality but we've had patients who have been on treatment for four years and are still suffering from the infection.

Why is it hard to create new antifungals?

The main challenge is that fungi, if you look at the cell structure — how they are built up — it's very similar to the human cell. This is different from bacteria, because bacteria are much simpler. And viruses are even more simple because they don't even have a cell.

For fungi, because they're similar to human cells, it's quite difficult to find a drug which kills the fungus but does not harm the human cell. So in the past 75 years, we have developed only five classes of antifungals. The azoles are, by far, the most important.

The problem is that if you can't use one of these classes then maybe you'll have one alternative left. It's already causing problems. For instance, if the fungus is in the brain, you have a very few drugs which actually get into the brain.

What can be done?

At a mycology meeting we found a global community who wanted to collaborate [on this issue].

For example, you really want to know what people are using [on crops] and see if you can reduce that or if there's any unnecessary use. Another important factor is: If you introduce new fungicides, they [should] undergo an assessment to see their impact on human fungal pathogens. It's important to establish if there's a risk for cross resistance.

Are you optimistic? 

I've worked in this field for a long time, and I think that it is changing.

WHO published a fungal pathogen list in 2022 for the first time — that had a major impact. A decade ago, when the World Health Organization came out with its global action plan against antimicrobial resistance, fungi were only mentioned twice. Now, after 10 years, it is being revised. And as a mycology community, we feel it is really important now that fungi are addressed.

The problem is, in fungi, we need to do the basic stuff: Develop the tools. Do the surveillance. Set up the [laboratory] networks. And it's sometimes difficult to get these basic things funded.

But overall, I think it's really changing. People are realizing this is not a local problem — it's really global.

On Wednesday, a federal jury found that Live Nation engaged in anticompetitive practices that stifle competition and harm the live music industry. The verdict marked a major victory for more than two dozen states in the antitrust trial against the live entertainment company, and has the potential to transform the concert ecosystem in the U.S.

Live Nation owns, operates or works with hundreds of venues across the country. It also manages artists, promotes concerts, books tours and owns Ticketmaster, which is one of the largest ticketing companies in the world. Throughout the trial, an attorney representing 33 states and the District of Columbia argued that Live Nation wielded too much power over the industry at the expense of fans, venues and artists. Live Nation repeatedly denied those accusations, but the jury ultimately sided with the states, declaring that the company had an unfair dominance in the industry.

Afterward, Live Nation issued a statement saying the verdict "is not the last word on this matter" and pointed to several pending motions that the court still has to rule on. The company said it plans to appeal any "unfavorable rulings."

Several artists and organizers NPR spoke with say they don't expect to see any immediate changes in the live music industry — but they see this is a first step in the right direction.

Having this scale of a win is a huge development for artists.Downtown Boys member and UMAW co-founder Joey La Neve DeFrancesco
Joey La Neve DeFrancesco is a guitarist and vocalist in the Providence, R.I. punk band Downtown Boys. In 2020, as the COVID-19 pandemic wreaked havoc on the music industry, DeFrancesco founded the United Musicians and Allied Workers (UMAW), a grassroots union advocating for the wellbeing of artists. Since then, the group has organized campaigns focused on increasing streaming royalties, merchandising payouts and SXSW payment rates for musicians. DeFrancesco says UMAW heavily supported the antitrust lawsuit against Live Nation and was closely monitoring the trial.

"We were all ecstatic. It's been decades that artists have been fighting this company," DeFrancesco says, citing Pearl Jam's boycott of Ticketmaster in the early 1990s. "It remains to be seen what the judge is going to do with this verdict — if we're going to truly break apart this Live Nation-Ticketmaster monopoly. But having this scale of a win is a huge development for artists."

More than just ticket prices 

The Live Nation verdict comes at a time when many working musicians say they're struggling to make ends meet. As the value of recorded music has decreased with streaming, there's an increased emphasis on touring and merch sales to make up the difference. But artists NPR spoke with say the rising costs of transportation, lodging, food and other factors required to put on shows are creating an untenable situation.

Conor Murphy is a St. Louis, Mo. based musician who spent more than a decade as the lead vocalist of the emo band Foxing and now continues to perform as Smidley. In the fall, Foxing announced it would be going on an indefinite hiatus. Murphy says there's a multitude of reasons for the break, but one of the leading factors is how financially unsustainable it's become to be a full-time musician. He says it's especially frustrating, then, to see fans spending more than ever on concert tickets. (As part of the Live Nation verdict, the jury found that Ticketmaster had overcharged fans in some states by $1.72 per ticket).

"My bands in particular, from my experience, we're not seeing the benefits of ticket prices being more expensive," he says. "We're not taking home more money at the end of tours."

Murphy's not alone Damon Krukowski is a writer, UMAW organizer and one-half of the indie-folk duo Damon & Naomi. He says he and his wife Naomi Yang recently sold out three performances in London, and still ended up in the negative.

"Three nights at our favorite club, sold out, and we lost money because expenses are so high right now," he says. "It's not the club's fault. We love that club and they're transparent about money and everything. It's not the fans' fault. But it's like, if you're charging normal money at a decent, normal club, it's not adding up right now."

Krukowski says he thinks the problem is a wider consolidation of power across the industry — that includes Live Nation, but also extends to streaming giants and recorded music companies. He says the industry looks completely different today than it did when he started playing music in Boston in the 1980s.

"We used to have such a wide variety of partners to work with as independent artists. We had venues that were independently owned. We had record stores that were independently owned," he says. "We had a network on the radio that was community and college radio stations, and we had a way of touring that didn't depend on these huge companies that are backed by enormous capital."

Impact on local scenes

All of the artists NPR spoke with say they hope the Live Nation verdict leads to lower ticket fees for fans as well as more robust competition and investment in small, local music scenes across the country. A study conducted by the National Independent Venue Association (NIVA) found that 64% of independent venues, promoters and festivals were not profitable in 2024.

It's a win for the fans and the artists that have suffered under Live Nation for way too long.Stephen Parker, executive director of the National Independent Venue Association (NIVA)
Stephen Parker, executive director of NIVA, tells NPR that the verdict is incredibly meaningful at a time when so many venues are struggling.

"It's not just a win for the states. It's a win for the small businesses and nonprofits that I represent," he says. "It's a win for the fans and the artists that have suffered under Live Nation for way too long."

In past statements to NPR, Live Nation has said that it promotes thousands of shows in independent venues across the country.

In Boston, Krukowski says the local landscape has shifted dramatically in recent years. Two major venues with over 3,500 capacity have been built in the city since the pandemic; one is operated by Live Nation and the other is owned by a partner of AEG Presents, which is Live Nation's biggest competitor. But small clubs and independent venues with much lower capacities have shuttered across the city.

"That means that my friends who play adventurous, independent music or improvised music have nowhere to play in Boston. So they don't," he says. "They go on tour and they don't play here."

Krukowski's not the only one who's noticed a shift. Online, some music fans on Reddit have posted about certain bands skipping Boston on tour, and touring in smaller markets instead. Krukowski says one such place booking notable lineups is Portland, Maine.

There, the Maine Music Alliance — a coalition of artists, venues, music industry workers and community members — has been leading a fight against Live Nation's proposal to build a 3,300-seat concert hall in the city. So far, the group has succeeded in getting a temporary moratorium on large venues in Portland, which was recently extended until September.

Scott Mohler is executive director and co-founder of the Maine Music Alliance. He says the verdict comes at a crucial moment for the group's ongoing battle against Live Nation.

"This is incredible legitimacy added to what I think a lot of people have thought are just a bunch of hippies and hipsters shouting about the corporation for the past year," he says. "I do think that it's going to certainly create more engagement and the council will be hearing from voices that they hadn't heard from before."

In the meantime, individual artists are doing what they can. Pop-rock singer Caroline Rose says they've been avoiding working with Live Nation as much as possible in recent years. They say the verdict is "a pretty amazing milestone" for now, but they're curious about what will actually happen next.

"We'll see how it pans out. I have a general distrust that things ever turn out in artists' favor," Rose says, laughing. "We've just been burned so many times."

In 2025, Rose released their album year of the slug exclusively on Bandcamp and in physical format. Since then, they've been focused on smaller solo tours in independent venues across the country. They say playing intimate rooms creates an incredibly rewarding, almost spiritual connection with the audience — and they say it's been refreshing to focus on those interpersonal connections rather than constantly trying to size up to the next biggest possible venue.

"By far, the most positive and nourishing experience has been working with the venue staff and the promoters that work at these independent clubs," Rose says. "It's a totally different type of show and a totally different type of experience, as opposed to when you get into the bigger rooms and you have better sound systems and maybe there's not a bathroom with no seats on the toilets anymore. But I do think it's important to pay homage to those venues and actively support them and treat them with respect."

This post first appeared on The LA Local.

A coalition of community activists and supporters held a vigil Thursday evening near the Home Depot on Century Boulevard to acknowledge those who were detained by masked agents earlier this year.

The vigil was organized by ING Fellowship, a grassroots organization founded in 2018 to address issues affecting Inglewood residents, where about 25 people gathered in the parking lot with flowers, candles and signs that read, “Boycott Home Depot” and “Inglewood Unidos.” Each person briefly talked about why they came to the vigil. 

“As a customer of Home Depot, I am outraged. We have normalized racial profiling on this parking lot,” Mars Marvilla said during the vigil. She told The LA Local that she now helps patrol the area near Home Depot when she’s driving for a rideshare company. 

The event was part of the group’s week of action to demand stronger protections for immigrant families and more accountability from city leaders in the wake of ongoing federal immigration enforcement. 

As part of their ongoing efforts in the city, activists are asking city officials to adopt the “Inglewood For All Act,” creating sanctuary city-style protections because “we felt like our local governments weren’t doing enough, so we started gathering to provide and fill those gaps,” said Yaritza Gonzalez, ING Fellowship co-founder. 

The protections include ordinances that would prohibit city resources from being used in immigration enforcement, limiting any collaboration with immigration authorities and Inglewood Police Department and restricting access for immigration authorities to non-public areas of city property.

“With this policy, we’re hoping that the city would be more welcoming to not just residents, but to all the people who will be coming to Inglewood for major events like the World Cup, the Super Bowl and the Olympics,” Gonzalez told The LA Local. 

A coalition of community activists and supporters held a vigil Thursday evening near the Home Depot on Century Boulevard to acknowledge those who were detained by masked agents earlier this year.

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LaMonica Peters

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The LA Local

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The coalition is also encouraging residents to participate in know-your-rights workshops, rapid-response networks and demonstrations intended to show solidarity with those impacted. 

The “Inglewood For All” campaign comes months after incidents like the Jan. 13 operation where  masked federal agents detained workers outside a Superior Grocers construction site. The coalition of activists, including the Hill Network, said they have since tracked dozens of detentions in and around Inglewood, including near day labor hubs and retail centers.  

“On January 13, 2026, our cousin was taken under false [pretenses] from Inglewood,” said Maritza Medina, an Inglewood resident. “Since then, I’ve committed myself to be more involved in our city and be as supportive as I can.” 

The LA Local reached out to Inglewood Mayor James Butts for a response to ING Fellowship’s week of action but received no response.  

The Inglewood For All Act also signals a growing grassroots movement, where community patrols, advocacy groups and informal networks have taken on the role of documenting enforcement activity and supporting affected families — even without formal backing from the city.

“This is just the start of this,” Gonzalez said during the vigil. “It’s an election year, and we’re hoping there is change.” 

A protest at Inglewood City Hall took also place Friday after months of trying to meet with city officials, ING Fellowship said.