The Brief

On a recent rainy afternoon, a handful of students gathered in a small UCLA classroom to pore over autopsy reports and death records.

They took turns presenting different cases, sharing what they’d gleaned from documents about people who died at the hands of police. After an overview, they honed in on the reports’ details.

As part of the university’s BioCritical Studies Lab, the significance of the students’ work extends far beyond the classroom.

Terence Keel, a professor in the Department of African American Studies and the Institute for Society and Genetics, founded the lab in 2020, in the wake of George Floyd’s murder. After watching police take Floyd’s life, Keel wondered how many others died under similar circumstances.

Together, Keel and his students have produced multiple reports about in-custody deaths. Through this work, the professor has learned that every day in the U.S., about five people die in jail or during arrests.

The reports, coupled with conversations with community activists and people who’ve lost loved ones across the country, underpin Keel’s new book, The Coroner's Silence: Death Records and the Hidden Victims of Police Violence.

How a lab discussion uncovers details

This recent class session started by examining a San Diego case involving a man who died in 2020 after being tased by police three times.

One student said it was “pretty shocking” that no officers faced liability. Another brought up the difference between what was stated in the autopsy report and the San Diego district attorney's account.

In the latter, the student noted, “It says that [an] officer put his left knee on [the man’s] upper back and neck. ... That provides a lot more context as to why [the man] became unresponsive.”

Not only was that detail left out of the autopsy report, another student added, “But on page seven, it says, ‘It does not appear that the officers at any time significantly placed their weight or pressure on the decedent’s head, neck or torso’ — which directly goes against what you just read.”

“Did anyone notice, on Page 5 of the [autopsy], the contributing factor to death was ‘atherosclerotic cardiovascular disease,’” Keel asked the class. “What did you all make of that?”

The lab secures autopsy reports and death records through public records requests. Students are assigned at least one case per week. They’re tasked with coding these cases, following a strict protocol. As they answer questions provided by their instructors, the students input the data in a survey for the lab’s Coroner Report Project.

In his new book, Keel describes the obstacles he faced in securing these records.

The professor says “a part of [him] had to perish” to write the text — the part of him that “wanted to believe America was growing into our best values and evolving beyond the primitivism of our past.”

“I am grateful for this loss,” he writes.

Before conducting his research, “I could not imagine how often these deaths occurred, how they were hidden from the public or the sheer magnitude of lethal police violence,” Keel adds.

“I hope you lose a part of yourself,” too, he tells readers, “and gain in return the ability to see the humanity of the people we are socialized to forget.”

Keel’s students already are heeding the call.

What kinds of students participate

The professor's students span majors from the humanities to life sciences. Many of them are pre-med. Grace Sosa, a former student, is the lab’s assistant director and co-leads class discussion.

“We welcome the feelings that come up — the rage and the sadness and the anger — all that stuff,” Sosa said. “The data collection that we do is important, but it's also important to never lose sight of the fact that every single one of these deaths should not have happened. And that should make us feel something.”

This approach sits well with students like Stepheny Nguyenle, a recent graduate who continues to be part of the lab.

“More than anything,” she told LAist, “I joined because I wanted to learn and grow alongside a group of people who believe in a better world, where human dignity takes precedence.”

For others, the lab is an invitation to take what’s learned and probe the world around them.

Senior Zaia Hammond (center), a Human Biology & Society major and African American Studies minor, said Keel's lab has helped her become more empathetic toward others, especially incarcerated people.

(

Julia Barajas

/

LAist

)

“[T]his is the first time I've ever looked at an autopsy report,” said sophomore Ellie Portman, who's now prone to scrutinizing news media. “We [grow up thinking] that whatever is in an autopsy report is correct and whatever the police do is right. ... This lab has taught me the importance of asking questions and being curious,” she said.

Junior Manhoor Ahmad also said the lab “has really taught me to go deeper.”

“I pay attention to the layers behind every incident: the police tactics used; the medical vulnerabilities of the person involved; how force escalates; the stress on the body; and the role that institutions play in framing these [deaths] as unavoidable,” she said.

How the community has been involved

When Keel launched the lab, a local woman named Helen Jones helped guide discussions.

Jones, a Watts native, lost her son in 2009. His name was John Horton III, and he was 22 years old when he died inside Men’s Central Jail in downtown L.A. authorities said he died by suicide in solitary confinement. But in Jones’ view, his body told a different story.

When Horton’s body was being prepared at a mortuary, Jones noticed wounds, bruises and scrapes across his body.

In his book, Keel notes that Horton “had no record of mental illness and was not under suicide watch when he was taken to prison.” Plus, when his family received the lab results, “they revealed that [Horton] had sustained recent injuries to his abdomen, adrenal glands, skeletal muscles in his lower back and kidneys.”

In the autopsy report, the coroner ascribed Horton’s death to “hanging and other undetermined factors.” But if Horton was alone in his cell, his mother wondered, how did those internal injuries occur?

Keel met Horton’s mother in 2020. At the time, she was a community organizer with Dignity and Power Now, a grassroots organization based in L.A. that’s working toward prison abolition. The experience of losing her son pushed Jones to become well-versed in death records. When Keel’s lab took off, she’d bring records of people who’d lost their life in custody and share her insights with his students.

Jones “had a wealth of knowledge and expertise about the faults and virtues of our death investigation system that would have taken decades for most academics to acquire,” Keel says in his book.

Through Jones, Keel and his students learned about “how death investigators weaponized details about the criminal history of the deceased, or their troubles with substance abuse or, even worse, their health history, making the case that they were going to die regardless of the actions of police.” Jones drew the lab’s attention “to the places in the autopsy where illegible handwriting, unchecked boxes, missing files and vague language obscured or distorted what happened to the victim and why.”

Keel’s lab and book also have been shaped by other families who’ve grappled with in-custody deaths. Out of necessity and desperation, he said, these families likewise taught themselves how to read autopsy reports, using anatomy books, along with legal and medical dictionaries.

Keel hopes his book finds its way to people who think in-custody deaths are an issue from which they’re far removed.

“[T]here is a perception that [this] is a Black and brown problem,” Keel told LAist. “But when you look at the data, look at the raw numbers, white Americans are the largest group in the nation being killed by police. ... And when you look at all of the people who are dying in custody, every single demographic in [the U.S.] is represented.”

Disclosure: Julia Barajas is a part-time law student at UCLA.

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.

(

Kevin Mazur/Getty Images

/

Getty Images North America

)

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

(

Now Serving

)

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

(

South Coast Botanic Garden

/

South Coast Botanic Garden

)

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.