The Brief

On the morning of July 31, James B. Milliken was enjoying a round of golf at the remote Sand Hills club in Western Nebraska when his cellphone buzzed.

Milliken was still days away from taking the helm of the sprawling University of California system, but his new office was on the line with disturbing news: The Trump administration was freezing hundreds of millions of dollars of research funding at the University of California, Los Angeles, UC’s biggest campus. Milliken quickly packed up and made the five-hour drive to Denver to catch the next flight to California.

He landed on the front lines of one of the most confounding cultural battles waged by the Trump administration.

The grant freeze was the latest salvo in the administration’s broader campaign against elite universities, which it has pilloried as purveyors of antisemitism and “woke” indoctrination. Over the next four months, the Justice Department targeted UCLA with its full playbook for bringing colleges to heel, threatening it with multiple discrimination lawsuits, demanding more than $1 billion in fines and pressing for a raft of changes on the conservative wish list for overhauling higher education.

In the months since Milliken’s aborted golf game, much has been written about the Trump administration’s efforts to impose its will on UCLA, part of the nation’s largest and most prestigious public university system. But an investigation by ProPublica and The Chronicle of Higher Education, based on previously unreported documents and interviews with dozens of people involved, reveals the extent to which the government violated legal and procedural norms to gin up its case against the school. It also surfaced something equally alarming: How the UC system’s deep dependence on federal money inhibited its willingness to resist the legally shaky onslaught, a vulnerability the Trump administration’s tactics brought into sharp focus.

According to former DOJ insiders, agency political appointees dispatched teams of career civil rights lawyers to California in March, pressuring them to rapidly “find” evidence backing a preordained conclusion: that the UC system and four of its campuses had illegally tolerated antisemitism, which would violate federal civil rights statutes.

The career attorneys eventually recommended a lawsuit against only UCLA, which had been rocked by pro-Palestinian protests in the spring of 2024. But even that case was weak, the lawyers acknowledged in a previously unreported internal memo we obtained. It documented the extensive steps UCLA had already taken to address antisemitism, many resulting from a Biden administration investigation based on the same incidents. The memo also noted there was no evidence that the harassing behavior that peaked during the protests was still happening.

Nonetheless, investigators sketched out a convoluted legal strategy to justify a new civil rights complaint against UCLA that several former DOJ lawyers called problematic and ethically dubious. Multiple attorneys who worked on it told us they were relieved they’d left the DOJ before they could be asked to sign it.

UCLA seemingly had every reason to push back aggressively. Yet UC system leaders have resisted calls from faculty and labor groups to file suit, fearing the many ways the government could retaliate against not only UCLA, but the entire university system, which relies on federal funds for a full one-third of its revenue. The government has opened probes into all 10 UC campuses, including at least seven that target UC Berkeley alone. “Thankfully, they’ve only f**ked with UCLA at this point,” said one UC insider privy to the system’s thinking.

To tell this story, ProPublica and the Chronicle reviewed public and internal records and interviewed more than 50 people, including DOJ attorneys who worked on the California investigations, UC officials and faculty, former government officials, Jewish leaders and legal experts. Some asked not to be identified, for fear the administration would retaliate or because they hadn’t been authorized to discuss the conflict. The Justice Department and its top officials did not respond to detailed questions and interview requests.

James B. Milliken, a savvy academic administrator, stepped into the challenge of his career in taking over as president of the University of California system.

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Elena Zhukova

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University of California

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Over three decades leading public colleges, Milliken, 68, a dapper onetime Wall Street lawyer who goes by “JB,” has built a reputation as a pragmatist able to work with politicians of all stripes and navigate the culture wars. In an interview, he called the challenges facing the entirety of UC, and UCLA in particular, unparalleled in his career. “There’s nothing like this time,” he said. “This is singular. It’s the toughest.”

On Nov. 14, UC received a temporary reprieve. In response to a complaint brought by the American Association of University Professors, U.S. District Judge Rita F. Lin issued a scathing opinion finding that the Trump administration’s actions against UCLA had “flouted” legal requirements and ordered it to cease all “coercive and retaliatory conduct” against the UC system. Lin had already ordered the release of UCLA’s $584 million in frozen grant funding.

But those orders are preliminary and subject to appeal, and many people at UC fear that more attacks are coming. “Even if this holds, there will simply be another move from this administration,” said Anna Markowitz, an associate professor of education at UCLA and a leader of the campus faculty association, which is among the lawsuit’s plaintiffs. “They have not made it a secret what they wish to do.”

In interviews, UCLA researchers described the damage the school has absorbed so far. Even Jewish faculty members who endured antisemitism said they are aghast at the way the government has weaponized their complaints to justify cutting critical scientific research.

One of them is Ron Avi Astor, a professor of social welfare and education whose description of his treatment at the hands of pro-Palestinian protesters is a prominent part of the lawsuit President Donald Trump’s DOJ recommended against UCLA. But he is dismayed at the cuts to research funds. “These are things that save people’s lives. Why are we messing with that? It’s a tool that anyone who’s a scholar would abhor,” he told us. “It looks like we’re being used.”

For Trump’s Justice Department, the University of California was a juicy target from the start.

With its 10 campuses, nearly 300,000 students, six medical centers and three national labs, UC is a crown jewel of a blue state — one whose governor, Gavin Newsom, has become one of Trump’s most prominent foes.

Its scientists have won 75 Nobel Prizes, including four this year alone. But as a high-powered science hub, it’s deeply dependent on federal funding, getting some $17.3 billion a year in research grants, student financial aid and reimbursements from government health programs. UC also has nothing like the endowment wealth of the Ivy League colleges, including Columbia and Brown, from which the Trump administration has extracted penalties in the tens or hundreds of millions.

Some of Trump’s DOJ appointees arrived with UC already in their crosshairs. Harmeet K. Dhillon, Trump’s assistant attorney general for civil rights, had sued UC officials in 2017 on behalf of two conservative student groups, alleging unfair treatment of conservative speakers they wanted to bring to the Berkeley campus. (UC settled the case a year later, agreeing to modify rules for speakers at Berkeley and pay $70,000 in legal costs.) And Trump had named Leo Terrell, the bombastic former Fox News commentator, to a top DOJ civil rights post where he heads the president’s Task Force to Combat Anti-Semitism. A UCLA School of Law graduate, Terrell had publicly declared in mid-2024 that his alma mater was “a national embarrassment” over its handling of “criminal antisemitic conduct.” Dhillon and Terrell didn’t respond to requests for comment.

In early February, just two weeks after Trump took office, his new attorney general, Pam Bondi, issued a series of directives to the DOJ requiring “zealous advocacy” for Trump’s executive orders, attacks on all forms of “illegal DEI” and aggressive steps to combat antisemitism. Civil rights actions and investigations involving race and sex discrimination, historically the civil rights division’s chief focus, were largely abandoned.

On Feb. 28, Terrell’s task force announced plans to visit 10 U.S. campuses, including UCLA and UC Berkeley, that were alleged to have illegally failed to protect Jewish students and faculty members, to assess “whether remedial action is warranted.”

But by then, the new Justice leadership had already decided to investigate UC schools and already concluded that they were guilty.

In early March, Terrell declared on Fox News that students and employees in “the entire UC system” were “being harassed because of antisemitism.” The administration planned to “sue,” “bankrupt,” and “take away every single federal dollar” from such schools, he said, and the DOJ would file hate crime charges.

A team of about a dozen career DOJ lawyers had been assembled only days earlier to investigate the allegations of antisemitism against UC employees. Under the employment discrimination section of the Civil Rights Act, the occurrence of ugly antisemitic incidents or violence involving professors or staff wasn’t, by itself, enough to merit federal intervention. The legal standard was whether the university had engaged in a “pattern or practice” of tolerating antisemitism.

Before Trump took office, the civil rights division typically took more than a year to complete such a probe, according to DOJ veterans. Investigators would conduct interviews on campus, review reams of documents for compliance with various statutes and assess such complex matters as when hateful speech is protected by the First Amendment. Once a complaint was authorized, the civil rights division would seek voluntary compliance in a process that was meant to find solutions, not punish colleges.

In this case, the Justice Department’s political appointees demanded that investigators wrap things up in far less time — initially, a single month.

Career supervisors say they told their new bosses that they couldn’t, in one month, produce a case that could stand up in court. Still, “North” and “South” teams of lawyers were dispatched for multiday trips to California to dig up facts and interview officials at UC Berkeley, UC Davis, UC San Francisco and UCLA.

“We were told what the outcome will be: ‘You have one month to find evidence to justify a lawsuit and draft a complaint against the UC system,’” said Ejaz Baluch, a senior trial attorney in the civil rights division who worked on the investigation before leaving the Justice Department in May.

“The incredibly short timing of this investigation is just emblematic of the fact that the end goal was never to conduct a thorough, unbiased investigation,” Jen Swedish, who was the deputy chief of Justice’s employment litigation section until May, said in an interview. “The end goal was to file a damn complaint — or have something to threaten the university.”

Trump’s appointee as deputy assistant attorney general for civil rights was Michael Gates, formerly the city attorney in Huntington Beach, California, who assumed the DOJ post vowing to help “win this country back.” “You guys have found a hostile work environment, right?” lawyers on the UC team recall him asking, just three weeks into the investigation.

DOJ investigators said Michael Gates, then deputy assistant attorney general for civil rights, asked them, “You guys have found a hostile work environment, right?” just three weeks into their probe of UC.

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“He seemed upset we were spending so much time investigating,” Dena Robinson, a senior trial attorney, told us. “He didn’t know what the holdup was in getting back to them on which university could be sued.” In an email about six weeks in, Gates suggested there was easily enough in the public record to bring a complaint against at least one of the UC campuses — a notion that horrified the career lawyers. “Why did we even go out there if you’d already made up your mind?” another member of the UC team recalled thinking. Gates, who left the DOJ in November after just 11 months, declined an interview request and offered no comment on detailed questions from ProPublica and the Chronicle.

Lawyers on the team say it soon became apparent that there wasn’t nearly enough evidence to justify an employment discrimination case against UC Davis, UC Berkeley or UCSF, much less the entire UC system. Fearful for their jobs, they agreed on a strategy to “feed the beast,” as one attorney put it: to focus on UCLA, which had experienced the most troubling, and publicly explosive, episodes of antisemitism.

Like many colleges across the country, UCLA had seen a spike in antisemitism amid protests over Israel’s military response in Gaza following the brutal Hamas attack of Oct. 7, 2023.

The campus had experienced dozens of ugly incidents, including swastikas spray-painted on buildings and graffiti reading “Free Palestine, F**k Jews.” Muslim and Arab students and faculty also complained of harassment and that any speech critical of Israel was being branded as antisemitic.

Starting in late April 2024, hundreds of pro-Palestinian protesters set up a barricaded encampment in the center of the campus. Reluctant to summon outside law enforcement, UCLA administrators allowed the encampment to remain for a week, disrupting classes and blocking access to certain buildings. Protesters berated and occasionally physically assaulted anyone who refused to disavow Zionism.

On the night of April 30, masked counterprotesters, armed with poles and pepper spray and shooting fireworks, stormed the encampment, triggering a three-hour melee before police were finally brought in. Dozens of people were injured. It took until 6 a.m. May 2 for Los Angeles police and sheriff’s deputies to empty the site.

Before Trump even took office, however, UCLA — and the federal government — had already taken action to combat antisemitism at the school.

Most significantly, in the waning days of the Biden administration, the UC system had reached a broad civil rights settlement with the Department of Education resolving investigations into student complaints that UC had tolerated both antisemitism and anti-Arab and anti-Muslim discrimination at UCLA and on four other campuses.

The settlement required UC to conduct more thorough investigations of alleged harassment and to submit reports on each campus’ handling of discrimination complaints. Government monitoring was to continue until UC “demonstrated compliance” with “all the terms of this agreement.”

Hundreds of pro-Palestinian protesters maintained a barricaded encampment in the center of the UCLA campus for a week in spring 2024, until a violent melee with counterprotesters finally prompted administrators to send in law enforcement to clear the site.

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The Trump administration disregarded all that. Even as the employee investigation was underway, it launched a new investigation of the same student complaints in early May.

On May 27 on Fox News, Terrell, the head of the antisemitism task force, once again spoke publicly as if the DOJ’s antisemitism inquiries had already been concluded. “Expect massive lawsuits against the UC system,” he declared. “Expect hate crime charges filed by the federal government. …We are going to go after them where it hurts them financially.”

At the time, the lawyers working on the UC employment investigation were still racing to complete their recommendation. They were focused solely on UCLA, having determined there wasn’t adequate evidence to pursue cases at other campuses. Many had distinctly mixed feelings even about bringing that case. “This was not something we would usually litigate,” one lawyer on the team said in an interview. “But everyone understood the front office was demanding this.”

By then, most of the remaining members of the UC team, amid a mass exodus from the civil rights division, were set to leave DOJ at the end of May after accepting the Trump administration’s deferred-resignation offer. “It was comforting to know we were not going to be the ones signing any complaint,” the lawyer said.

In the 47-page recommendation memo the UC team sent on May 29 to Dhillon, the assistant AG for civil rights, the lawyers spelled out their concerns. “We simply do not have strong evidence that the types of harassing acts that happened through spring 2024 are ongoing” — typically a legal requirement for bringing a complaint, the memo acknowledged. Some of the harassment complaints also involved protected First Amendment speech. And because, “as has been frequently noted,” the investigation had been “truncated” to three months, there hadn’t even been time to review some of the documents UC produced, the memo said.

To shore up potential weaknesses in the case, the memo suggested an unusual “hybrid complaint” strategy that would rest partly on new allegations about the ineffectiveness of the university’s complaint process (which was ongoing) and partly on three older faculty grievances.

One of the grievances cited was that of Astor, the professor of social welfare, who describes himself as both a Zionist and a “pro-peace researcher.” His academic work, much of which takes place in Israel, involves studying ways to help students from different religious and ethnic backgrounds peacefully coexist. But after he signed an open letter from Jewish faculty criticizing some pro-Palestinian protesters’ calls for violence, they accused him, in a widely circulated letter of their own, of supporting genocide. When he tried to enter the encampment to talk to students, he told us, a masked protester asked whether he was a Zionist. After he said he believed in Israel’s right to exist, he was blocked from entering or crossing through the central campus.

Astor was targeted again last November, he said, when he and an Arab-Israeli researcher he’d flown in from Hebrew University of Jerusalem tried to discuss their research on preventing school violence in class. “A bunch of students got up and showed pictures of dead babies and chanted and didn’t let us talk,” he recalled. Later heckled on his way to his car, he said he felt threatened and depressed. He lost more than 60 pounds and was granted permission to work from home, but his repeated discrimination complaints to administrators went nowhere.

Astor’s complaints, the employment-section attorneys believed, would support their proposal for a lawsuit against UCLA. Even so, they warned that their case might not hold up in court. In the memo, they recommended seeking a settlement before filing a complaint.

With that message delivered, most of the lawyers who had investigated the University of California departed the Justice Department.

UCLA’s normally peaceful campus was roiled by dozens of ugly — and occasionally violent — incidents in the aftermath of Israel’s response to the brutal Oct. 7 Hamas attack.

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On the morning of July 29, two days before Milliken’s interrupted golf game, the University of California resolved what it surely hoped was among the last of the headaches from the 2024 encampment debacle: It announced a $6.45 million settlement of an antisemitism lawsuit brought by three Jewish students and a faculty member who said protesters blocked them from accessing the library and other campus buildings, creating a “Jew exclusion zone,” and that the university did nothing to help them. UC agreed to an extensive list of new actions, and a chunk of the money went to eight organizations that combat antisemitism and support the UCLA Jewish community. The steps the university had taken, a joint statement declared, “demonstrate real progress in the fight against antisemitism.”

The Trump administration had a different view. That afternoon, it announced that it had sent UC a notice letter saying the Justice Department had found UCLA’s response to the encampment had been “deliberately indifferent to a hostile environment for Jewish and Israeli students,” in violation of Title VI of the Civil Rights Act. Bondi warned in a press release that UCLA would “pay a heavy price” for “this disgusting breach of civil rights.” The antisemitism finding had been reached less than three months after the investigation had begun.

The letter, which acknowledged that it relied significantly on “publicly available reports and information,” ignored all the previous actions meant to put the events of 2024 to rest.

“The violations they described all predate the December agreement,” said Catherine E. Lhamon, who oversaw the Office of Civil Rights at the Education Department under the Obama and Biden administrations. “They’ve made no showing for why the agreement was defective or why anything else was needed to ensure compliance going forward.”

The July 29 letter ended with an invitation to negotiate a settlement but warned that the department was prepared to file a lawsuit if there was no “reasonable certainty” of reaching an agreement.

Instead, the next day, the Trump administration began freezing UCLA’s research money from the National Institutes of Health, National Science Foundation and Defense Department. The agencies cited the campus’ handling of antisemitism as well as “illegal affirmative action” and allowing transgender women in women’s sports and bathrooms.

UCLA was one of at least nine universities to be hit with grant suspensions, but the first public institution.

UCLA neuroscience researcher Elle Rathbun was stunned to learn that the Trump administration was freezing her hard-won $160,000 grant to study how brains recover from stroke.

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David Shackelford, whose medical school lab develops personalized treatments for lung cancer, said his phone “blew up” when colleagues began receiving stop-spending orders. Three NIH grants, totaling $8 million over five years, had supported the lab’s work. “These are experiments and animal models that take years to develop,” Shackelford said. “It’s not like you can go to your computer and click save and walk away.” He scrounged together stopgap university funding and outside donations to keep the operation running “on fumes,” vowing “to go down swinging.”

Elle Rathbun is not sure she’s up for the fight. A 29-year-old sixth-year doctoral student in neuroscience, Rathbun was halfway through a three-year NIH grant to study how brains recover from strokes when she got the news: Her $160,000 award was on the long list of suspended UCLA grants.

She found substitute funding for some of her work but now has doubts about whether a career in academic science is worth the stress. Like hundreds of her colleagues, she’d gone through a monthslong competitive process to win the grant, only to have the Trump administration halt the taxpayer-funded research midstream, a move she called “incredibly disappointing and wildly wasteful.”

A group of UCLA researchers filed a lawsuit seeking to reverse the cuts and won two court orders largely restoring them. But even after those victories, the flow of new science grants had slowed to a trickle. In a July 30 email later introduced in court, the National Science Foundation’s acting chief science officer wrote that, in addition to freezing existing grants, he had been ordered to not make any further awards to UCLA.

In nearly 500 pages of personal statements to the court, some faculty members said they’re censoring their speech and changing their courses to avoid topics that might trigger even more cuts to the university. Amander Clark, a professor who heads a reproductive sciences center, no longer talks about the ways her research on infertility and the effects of hormones on human bodies could help gay and transgender people. “I am afraid that because UC is in the spotlight, 20 years of work could be dismantled at the stroke of a pen,” she wrote.

In selecting Milliken as their new system president, the UC regents had picked a veteran at managing large public university systems with vastly different political climates, ranging from the City University of New York, which he ran from 2014 to early 2018, to the University of Texas system, which he led from late 2018 until May 2025.

At UT, Milliken had championed some progressive steps, including expanding free tuition and safeguarding tenure, but he had also quickly shut down the system’s 21 offices related to diversity, equity and inclusion in response to a new Texas law. “He knows what is a winning hand and what is not,” said Richard Benson, who worked with Milliken as president of UT Dallas.

On Aug. 1, his first day on the job at UC’s system office in Oakland, Milliken issued a measured public statement that addressed the “deeply troubling” UCLA grant cuts and affirmed the critical importance of UC’s “life-saving and life-changing research.”

That same week, the Justice Department, days after Bondi’s declaration blasting UCLA for antisemitism against students, delivered a second notice letter, declaring that UCLA had illegally tolerated antisemitism against its employees and threatening to bring the “hybrid” lawsuit that the DOJ’s UC team had recommended in May.

Eager to turn up the pressure on UC, political appointees at the Justice Department had planned to issue another press release assailing UCLA for the employee-related antisemitism findings, according to former agency officials. But Kacie Candela, a well-regarded employment-section lawyer and the last survivor from the dozen who had worked on the administration’s UC investigations, warned that under federal law, it would be a criminal misdemeanor to publicly disclose details involving Equal Employment Opportunity Commission charges before filing a lawsuit. After a heated dispute, her argument prevailed and the UCLA letter went unannounced. She was terminated days later. (Candela, who is pursuing legal action to challenge her firing, declined to discuss the matter for this story. DOJ officials didn’t respond to questions from ProPublica and the Chronicle about the episode.)

After receiving the two DOJ antisemitism notice letters, Milliken quickly affirmed UC’s willingness to “engage in dialogue” with the administration. But that did nothing to forestall the next blow two days later: the Justice Department’s $1.2 billion settlement demand, which also asked for policy changes in areas where there’d been no findings of wrongdoing, including admissions practices, screening of foreign students and transgender students’ access to bathrooms. Within hours of UC’s receipt of the 27-page demand letter on Aug. 8 — which the DOJ had marked “confidential” — CNN, The New York Times and Politico had all posted stories saying they’d obtained a copy from undisclosed sources. (A DOJ spokesperson declined to comment on whether the administration had leaked the letter, which UC spent weeks battling in court to keep private.)

All this was without precedent, due process or clear legal justification, civil rights experts noted. Agreeing to the DOJ’s demands, the Aug. 8 letter said, would release UC from claims that it had violated laws banning discrimination against students, employees and women, and that its civil rights violations constituted fraud. “They were trying to overwhelm,” said Swedish, the former civil rights deputy section chief. “They were spraying the fire hose at the university.”

UC administrators faced intense pressure to respond to the Trump administration’s attacks on UCLA by filing suit. But they were wary that an aggressive response might prompt fresh retaliation against the system’s nine other campuses, which are all also under investigation.

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Strangely, Justice demanded another $172 million for employees who’d complained of antisemitism discrimination, even though only a handful had filed such grievances with the EEOC and such awards are capped at $300,000.

Former U.S. Attorney Zachary A. Cunha said a possible rationale for such unprecedented financial demands is that, under Trump, the DOJ is experimenting with using the False Claims Act in civil rights cases. This would permit triple damages and encourage complaints from whistleblowers, who would share in any financial recovery. “It’s hard to know where these large and somewhat arbitrary numbers are coming from,” Cunha said of the administration’s settlement demands. But “if there’s a pattern that’s emerged thus far, it’s that every tool in the toolbox is on the table.”

Kenneth L. Marcus, an antisemitism watchdog and a former assistant secretary of education for civil rights under Trump, acknowledged that the government has pursued “eye-catching” penalties “with a speed that suggested” normal civil rights enforcement and due-process procedures “have not been utilized.” But Marcus insisted the response was appropriate because of the “national crisis” of antisemitism. “When a situation is extraordinary and unprecedented,” he said, “the response needs to be as well.”

In media interviews, officials in the Trump administration acknowledge that its “whole-of-government” attacks on universities seek to bypass normal, slow-moving civil rights procedures by instead treating alleged discriminatory practices as contract disputes where the government is free to summarily cut off funding and demand headline-grabbing, seemingly arbitrary fines. “Having that dollar figure, it actually brings attention to the deals in ways people might not otherwise pay attention,” former White House deputy May Mailman, a key architect of the administration’s higher education strategy, told The New York Times.

This approach is “flagrantly unlawful” and “incredibly dangerous,” said Lhamon, the former assistant education secretary, who is now executive director of the Edley Center on Law and Democracy at the UC Berkeley law school. “There’s a long set of steps that are written into statute that must occur first before funds can be terminated.”

Lhamon said the Trump administration was operating “like a mob boss.”

“That is not the federal government doing civil rights work,” she said.

Milliken has found himself caught between the Trump administration’s demands and those of his new constituency in California, which vocally opposes any hint of capitulation.

Newsom, who serves on the UC Board of Regents, has threatened to sue the federal government, calling its demands “extortion” and vowing to “fight like hell” against any deal.

The advocates of direct legal combat include Erwin Chemerinsky, dean of UC Berkeley’s law school. “The university should have immediately gone to court to challenge this because what was done was so blatantly illegal and unconstitutional,” he told ProPublica and the Chronicle. “I wanted the University of California to be Harvard in fighting back and filing suit. I didn’t want them to be Columbia and Brown in capitulating.”

But Milliken, backed by the UC regents, resisted calls for confrontation, wary of provoking retaliation against the nine other system campuses also under investigation. The damage to date at UCLA is “minor in comparison to the threat that looms,” Milliken noted in a mid-September statement. “We are in uncharted waters.”

So UC has pursued settlement discussions with the government. According to a person familiar with the matter, it has retained William Levi, who served in Trump’s first administration as a special assistant to the president, counselor to the attorney general and chief of staff at the Justice Department, to lead the talks.

If UC’s leaders have preached restraint, its faculty has opted for open defiance. In addition to the suit that prompted the federal judge, Lin, to restore UCLA’s frozen research grants, a complaint filed in September by the American Association of University Professors and other faculty groups challenged the legality of the Trump administration’s entire assault on UC. At a hearing on Nov. 6, the government’s lawyer acknowledged that the administration’s “hodgepodge” of actions against the system hadn’t followed established civil rights procedures but said the administration had the right to direct funding based on the Trump administration’s “policy priorities.”

Lin didn’t buy it. A week later, in an unusually sweeping preliminary injunction, she barred all of the Trump administration’s actual and threatened moves to punish UC, including the $1.2 billion payment demand. The Trump administration’s “playbook,” she wrote, citing comments by Terrell and others, illegally used civil rights investigations and funding cuts as a way of “bringing universities to their knees and forcing them to change their ideological tune.”

Although Lin ordered the Trump administration to lift the ban on new research grants to UC, approvals were slow to resume. In public remarks before the Board of Regents on Nov. 19, Milliken said that more than 400 grants across the system remained suspended or terminated, representing “more than $230 million in research activity on hold.” He and others at UC have expressed concerns that the system’s pathway to new grants will be blocked.

In our interview, Milliken defended how UC has responded to the Trump administration, saying the university has held its ground on its governance, mission and academic freedom.

“We recognize the differing opinions on how UC should engage with the federal government,” he said. “Our efforts remain focused on solutions that keep UC strong for Californians and Americans.”

The most striking view off one of San Luis Obispo County’s winding coastal roads is not the lashing ocean waves of the Pacific Ocean or cows plodding out from the shade of a California live oak tree.

It is two enormous concrete domes that come into focus along a final climb that began 7 miles back at Avila Beach. The land sinks away, and what looks like a small town emerges, showcased in a palette of grays, whites and terracotta.

This is Diablo Canyon, California’s last operating nuclear power plant.

Just years ago, the plant was slated to close, and employees worked to decommission it, until a 2022 about-face by Gov. Gavin Newsom led the state to extend its operations to 2030. Now lawmakers in Sacramento are talking about allowing it to operate even longer, potentially to 2045.

But local groups, some of whom have protested the plant since its construction, are banging the drum ever louder about their concerns for safety or a catastrophic meltdown, as well as the danger posed by spent nuclear waste at a site near several seismic fault lines.

Meanwhile, academics are furiously analyzing how much keeping Diablo Canyon open would cost and if it would support or hinder the state’s clean energy transition. And business groups are lining up in support.

So when PG&E offered press tours earlier this year, KQED accepted. The nuclear power plant has not garnered this much attention in years, but now, once again, all eyes are on Diablo Canyon. What does it look like inside?

Out on the water

PG&E’s Diablo Canyon Power Plant tour started on a boat in a protected marina just south of the reactors. This, and another cove just outside the breakwaters, are the site of a key piece of the plant’s cooling system — and a major concern for environmentalists, who argue it hoovers up and kills marine life and have called it “the most destructive facility” along California’s coast.

Dipping a hand in Diablo Cove, the water is lukewarm, not the frosty standard for the ocean in these parts.

That’s because Diablo Canyon draws 2 billion3-2.5 billion gallons of ocean water daily — enough to fill more than 3,000 Olympic-size swimming pools — into the plant to cool equipment, and discharges the water back into the ocean typically 16 to 17 degrees hotter.

The warmer water makes it feel as if a chunk of Southern California’s coast has been lobbed off and transferred north.

Out on the water, there was a hotbed of animal activity: a floating sea otter and chubby seals sunning themselves on rocks.

There were other species too — sea bass, stingrays, and California’s state fish, the garibaldi, which typically live farther south along California’s coast, but have moved here.

Diablo Canyon staff said the warm water leads to essentially no change to the environment. Because fishing and other activities are not allowed within 2,000 yards of the plant, it’s a “de facto marine sanctuary,” said Tom Jones, a senior director in charge of future planning for Diablo Canyon.

But the California Coastal Commission, the state agency tasked with protecting the coastline and its natural resources, reported in 2025 that the plant’s cooling system kills almost two billion larval fish annually, plus other organisms that aren’t measured.

While adult populations may be abundant in Diablo Cove, the commission wrote that adults often appear far from where they spawn, and their presence here may be the result of productive marine habitats nearby.

The commission also warned that removing eggs and larvae near Diablo Canyon leads to “a significant reduction” of species dozens of miles from the plant.

“These planktonic organisms,” wrote the commission, “constitute the base of the food web in California’s coastal waters.”

To the turbine deck

We donned hard hats and safety equipment and passed through heavy security to enter the “protected area,” which consists of spaces closer to the nuclear reactors.

We entered the turbine deck, an industrial building the size of two-and-a-half football fields. It was hot and loud on the deck, with a slight vibration underfoot.

The steam-driven turbine inside is an enormous semi-cylinder that looks like a horizontal steel pipe cut in half, and spins a generator to produce electricity.

The PG&E guide pointed out the window at a containment dome, where uranium atoms are split apart, releasing huge amounts of heat.

A cascade of effects follows: the heat warms water and creates steam, the steam travels through pipes to turn the turbine, the turbine connects to a generator, which makes electricity that’s then sent across the grid and delivered to about three million Californians.

Nuclear generates nearly 9% of the state’s energy supply, part of an energy mix that includes gas, hydroelectric, solar, wind, geothermal and even small amounts of coal.

While California’s demand for electricity has been flat for years, it’s now growing with the adoption of electric vehicles, people swapping gas appliances for electric ones, and data centers.

The debate to keep Diablo Canyon open is spurred, in part, by this uptick in demand. Maureen Zawalick, senior vice president and chief risk officer at PG&E, said stepping into the turbine deck reminds her of the end uses of all this power: “safety in hospitals, kidney dialysis, stop lights and everything else.”

California is walking its economy across a tightrope.

The state’s growth in the 20th century was built on a foundation of fossil fuels, but leaders see its future as being powered by the buildout of renewables like solar and wind, along with batteries to store excess power.

When heat waves strained California’s power grid and caused rolling blackouts in 2020, state lawmakers and Newsom voted to extend Diablo Canyon’s operation.

Now, as electricity bills continue to rise and demand is forecast to grow, proponents argue that keeping the plant open even longer can help California wobble across the precarious middle of the tightrope.

The simulator

We shed our safety gear and headed to the training building, with classrooms and an exact replica of the control room, called the simulator.

It was cool and quiet again as employees completed a training exercise, manipulating switches, lights and screens on a semicircle of vertical boards. Zawalick said the simulator’s seafoam green walls are meant to inspire calm, but its very existence is due to nuclear disasters that have occurred elsewhere in the U.S.

Simulators became a requirement for all nuclear power plants in 1979 after the Three Mile Island nuclear accident in Pennsylvania. The partial meltdown was the most serious nuclear accident in U.S. history and was caused by both human and equipment failure.

Practicing in a replica of Diablo Canyon’s actual control room is meant to train workers with the muscle memory to handle a variety of emergencies.

Employees spend 20% of their time in the Diablo Canyon simulator training for everything from planned refueling to routine maintenance to major emergencies.

Spent nuclear fuel

To finish the tour, we drove uphill and farther from the ocean to find dozens of hulking concrete cylinders that contain spent fuel, called “dry casks.”

The nuclear material is the concern of resident groups who fear an earthquake or terrorist attack could destabilize the storage and spew radioactive waste into the ocean or nearby communities. People living nearby are mailed annual emergency preparedness documents and have access to a free dose of potassium iodide, which protects the thyroid gland against radiation.

Linda Seeley has rallied against Diablo Canyon for decades as a member of the anti-nuclear nonprofit Mothers for Peace.

“As much as I would love it if nuclear waste were not toxic and lethal to a thousand generations in the future, that’s not the fact. The fact is that it is toxic,” she said.

Once fuel has been used inside the plant, radiation levels are dangerously high and have the potential to kill an exposed person in minutes.

The spent fuel spends 7 to 10 years next to the reactors in “wet storage,” a large pool of water treated with chemicals. The liquid absorbs heat and decays of the uranium, which has high levels of radiation.

The nuclear material is then packed into the double-lined, stainless steel and reinforced dry casks, roughly 20 feet tall. Each is bolted to a 7.5-foot-thick, steel-reinforced concrete pad designed to withstand earthquakes. The fuel requires special handling for tens of thousands of years.

Diablo Canyon is located roughly 3.5 miles from the Hosgri fault, which presents the main seismic risk to the plant. Another fault, the Shoreline, is closer to the plant, but smaller. Some seismologists are concerned that a quake along the faults could cause a meltdown.

The U.S. government is legally obligated to take ownership of all commercially spent nuclear fuel, but because the government has not yet built a permanent place to put it, the fuel is stored at the power plant.

Current solutions like Diablo Canyon’s dry storage casks, while they may be thorough, are only licensed until 2064 by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission.

Zawalick said PG&E is confident in the storage of Diablo Canyon’s spent fuel, though. She pointed out that nuclear power is “the only energy source that knows exactly where every ounce of our waste is.” The Nuclear Regulatory Commission and PG&E monitor the spent fuel on a daily and annual basis. “It’s secured, it’s inspected, it’s audited, it’s sampled. I’m a fan of all energy sources, but I don’t know where solar panels are sent when they’re done, and batteries, and all of that.”

Zawalick pointed to the powerful transmission lines carrying energy created here out to millions of Californians: to illuminate rooms for special and mundane occasions, preserve food in refrigerators, run air conditioners, and warm their shower water.

Order and safety come up frequently on the Diablo Canyon Power Plant tour: background checks, armed guards, seismic protective measures, reminders to hold on to handrails when on steps. The result is a calm and kempt environment, situated on a hillside overlooking the Pacific.

But underneath the serenity lie the inherent risks of nuclear power, especially when sited near seismic fault lines. Diablo Canyon has been the source of passionate debate as long as the idea of it has existed. And any effort to keep it operating longer will be no different.

And with that, the tour was over, and the guides returned to their work. A cow made its way slowly across the access road, with no idea of its contentious neighbor.

We all need a good story to start the week, and this one is the best. Pasadena Humane has rehomed its last dog rescued from the Eaton Fire. Artemis, a German shepherd, is happily in his forever home, and now we can all sleep a little easier. What a good boy!

Music this week includes the last of the free spring lunchtime concerts at the Colburn on Tuesday, May 5. Licorice Pizza has more picks, including Meshell Ndegeocello at Blue Note on Monday and Tuesday. Wednesday, Sports are at the Roxy, Saults are at the Teragram, Waxahatchee and MJ Lenderman play Disney Hall, and over at the Grammy Museum, there’s a screening of the Ann Wilson documentary In My Voice, followed by a conversation with the Heart legend herself. Thursday, The Dear Hunter will be at the Glass House.

And, happy Cinco de Mayo! Food and drink specials and community celebrations abound on Tuesday.

Elsewhere on LAist.com, you can catch up on Larry Mantle’s recent interview with Mayor Karen Bass, create a route to see the best street murals around L.A., and grab a ticket to see a live taping of NPR’s Wild Card with Rachel Martin and Tracee Ellis Ross at the Crawford on Thursday, May 7.

Events

Spaceballs

Tuesday, May 4, 6 to 10 p.m.
Griffith Observatory 
2800 E. Observatory Road, Griffith Park
COST: MEMBER ADMISSION, $45, MEMBER ADMISSION, $50 WAITLIST; MORE INFO

I don’t even really have to say it, do I? Griffith Observatory is hosting a very special screening of the best spoof of all time ever (don’t @ me), Spaceballs. In celebration of the upcoming sequel, Spaceballs: The New One (tbd if that was necessary), star Josh Gad will be on hand and the evening includes parking, drinks and snacks, and photo ops. It’s currently waitlist-only … may the Schwartz be with you.

Cinemasianamerica

Through Thursday, May 7
Laemmle Royal
11523 Santa Monica Blvd., West L.A.
COST: FROM $11.50; MORE INFO

Just in time to kick off Asian American Pacific Islander Month, director Quentin Lee has put together an exciting screening series at the Laemmle Royal, featuring 30 years of Lee’s work. The Cinemasianamerica series runs through May 7 and includes screenings of Ethan Mao, The People I’ve Slept With, The Unbidden, Rez Comedy, and Last Summer of Nathan Lee. The series will wrap with Comedy InvAsian III, a sneak preview of Lee’s stand-up showcase. Most screenings include a Q&A with Lee and fellow cast members.

Core Samples

Through Tuesday, June 30, by appointment
UCLA Architecture and Urban Design
1317 Portola Plaza, Perloff Hall 1118, Westwood
COST: FREE; MORE INFO

L.A. has a wealth of architectural and modern building feats, many of which we have more access to than any other city, given our (relative!) youth. UCLA’s School of Architecture has some of this history on display, including posters from talks by Frank Gehry and John Julius Norwich and archival materials, including VHS tapes, faculty portraits, 35mm slides of student work, travel photographs, office drawings, and posters. It uses a classroom space to allow visitors to explore, so since the exhibit is also a working teaching archive, you do have to make an appointment.

Netflix Is a Joke Festival

Through Sunday, May 10
Netflix Is a Joke Festival 
Multiple locations 
COST: VARIES; MORE INFO

WANTAGH, NY - SEPTEMBER 10: Comedian Pete Davidson performs onstage during Oddball Comedy Festival at Nikon at Jones Beach Theater on September 10, 2016 in Wantagh, New York.

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Where to even begin with all the incredible comedy listings for this year’s Netflix Is a Joke Festival? Whether you’re a theater person (see: Rachel Bloom guesting with Theater Adult on May 7), a fan of roasts (head to the Forum for the Roast of Kevin Hart on May 10), an SNL superfan (Pete Davidson at the Wiltern on May 9) or a podcast junkie (Girls Gotta Eat at the Palace Theatre on May 7), there’s a show for you. I didn’t even mention the 40th Anniversary of Pee-Wee’s Playhouse with the B-52s and Danny Elfman (May 4) or the Lizzo show at the Greek (May 7)! Pretty much every venue in L.A. has a comedy show this week – it might be harder not to see comedy. So find your favorite (or someone you’ve never heard of!) and get a taste of the L.A. and international comedy scene right here.

Anissa Helou x Now Serving: For Lebanon

Monday, May 4, 7 to 8 p.m.
727 N. Broadway #133, Chinatown 
COST: FROM $11.49; MORE INFO

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Now Serving

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L.A. Times restaurant critic Bill Addison hosts this conversation with James Beard-winning cookbook author Anissa Helou at cookbook store Now Serving in Chinatown. Helou’s latest is Lebanon: Cooking the Foods of My Homeland, celebrating the diversity of dishes from the Mediterranean country.

TROLLS: A Field Study 

Through Sunday, October 4
South Coast Botanic Garden
26300 Crenshaw Blvd., Palos Verdes Peninsula 
COST: FREE WITH GENERAL ADMISSION ($18); MORE INFO

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South Coast Botanic Garden

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South Coast Botanic Garden

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Thomas Dambo’s oversized trolls are as cute as they are creepy. Twelve of those giants made entirely of reclaimed wood have made their way across the pond to guard the South Coast Botanic Garden until October. Walk through this fairytale land with admission to the gardens or plan a special guided weekend Troll Trek.

A bill moving through the state legislature would require independent evaluations of any new education initiative that costs at least $500 million a year or $1 billion in one-time spending.

The proposed requirement is part of a larger bill that would restructure the role of the state superintendent, an elected position that currently oversees the California Department of Education.

“That means that as we make massive investments, as have occurred in the last several years, like universal transitional kindergarten, that there is a built-in independent check to tell us what is actually working,” Assemblymember David Alvarez, the bill’s author and chair of the assembly subcommittee on education, said at a hearing a few weeks ago.

While research shows a child’s early years are critical for learning, in February, reporting by LAist found the state had no formal plans to evaluate transitional kindergarten — a new grade for 4-year-olds in the public school system that was fully implemented this year.

 ”For TK, as you've covered well, you know, it's nonexistent,” Alvarez told LAist.

The state has spent billions on the program, including $3.9 billion to administer it this fiscal year.

The amendments to the bill also follow reports from the research group Policy Analysis for California Education, as well as the Legislative Analyst’s Office, that recommend reshaping the role of an elected state superintendent to include evaluation duties. But Alvarez said he thought it was crucial to take the legislation a step further and include a fiscal trigger to make evaluations mandatory, and envisions the requirement to apply to new state spending.

How would reviews work?

The bill as currently written only applies to new initiatives, but the superintendent would have authority to order reviews of existing programs like transitional kindergarten.

"I'm hopeful that as we engage more with the administration on this issue, that there's an interest in evaluating a program like this one of this magnitude and others,” Alvarez said. Other existing programs include the Community Schools Partnership Program, a wrap-around services initiative, and the Expanded Learning Opportunities Program.

The bill would allow for the independent evaluations to be done by outside research organizations.

“I really see this as the opportunity to really cement what I think is a good governance practice, long-term,” he said. “ Resources are limited, and we don't have an infinite number of dollars to do all the work we want to do, so we’ve got to make sure that dollars are being used in the best way that serves the most number of students.”

Have thoughts?

A subcontractor on the LAX Automated People Mover project owes a group of workers unpaid wages and benefits, according to a grievance filed by the union representing the workers.

An arbitrator held a hearing on the matter last December and formally sided with the union in his decision, which was released in March.

The International Union of Elevator Constructors, Local 18, had argued in a grievance filed in May 2025 that subcontractor Alstom Transport USA has been paying people who have been preparing train vehicles for passenger service and testing parts at a lower rate than what’s outlined in a labor agreement governing the project.

The union said in a statement to LAist that it is “satisfied” its claims were backed by the arbitrator and that the decision reflects the power of collective action.

The union added that this isn’t the end of the fight since Alstom has “already shown that they don’t intend to comply with the arbitrator’s award.”

The arbitrator noted in his decision there is some uncertainty as to how many workers would be affected since some of them were hired directly by Alstom and others through third-party firms. The union says there are 28 total workers who, regardless of how they were hired, should be compensated for their work and estimates Alstom owes them millions in wages and benefits.

A spokesperson for Alstom said it is “reviewing the arbitrator’s recommendations.”

“Alstom remains committed to reaching a fair and competitive wage and benefit package that recognizes the valuable contributions of our employees,” the spokesperson said.

LINXS did not respond to a request for comment.

Disputes in large-scale capital projects are not uncommon. This is one of many surrounding the Automated People Mover and not the only one to involve subcontractors working on the project. Earlier this year, LAist reported about how the main contractor, a group of companies called LINXS, is engaged in legal battles with two of its other subcontractors.

Another dispute between the city and LINXS has recently intensified and could also lead to litigation.

The project labor agreement

At the heart of this dispute is the collective bargaining agreement that sets wages for on-site construction work, establishes dispute procedures and ensures there won’t be work stoppages over labor issues on capital projects owned by Los Angeles World Airports, the city agency that oversees LAX. The project labor agreement was first forged in 1999 and, in 2020, the airport’s board renewed it for an additional decade.

LINXS agreed that it would be bound to the agreement and “shall require all of its subcontractors … to be similarly bound,” according to a copy of the arbitrator’s decision the union shared with LAist.

The union has claimed that the Alstom employees were doing work that is covered by the agreement and that they should be paid accordingly.

Alstom, according to communications cited in the arbitrator’s decision, said it never signed a document called a Letter of Assent, which formalizes a company’s obligation to follow the project labor agreement, and that, even if it did, its employees’ work isn’t covered.

The arbitrator’s decision

David Weinberg, the arbitrator, said the testing and commissioning work Alstom employees did is covered by the project labor agreement. Weinberg added that Alstom consented to abide by the agreement when it signed a contract to work with LINXS.

“Not signing the Letter of Assent does not absolve Alstom of its contractual obligations to LINXS or to the Union under the [Project Labor Agreement] due to the pass-through provision,” Weinberg wrote in his decision.

Weinberg said that the Alstom employees should get paid the national wage and benefits rate for the International Union of Elevator Constructors for any hours of work completed starting 60 days before the union filed its grievance. Weinberg also ordered Alstom to provide the hours of work completed on-site.

Weinberg said in his decision that if Alstom does not comply, LINXS would be on the hook, though for a smaller amount. LINXS would be liable to pay for any hours of work starting 60 days before Nov. 4, when it became a formal party to the grievance.