The Brief

On a brisk January morning, physician assistant Brett Feldman searched the streets of Los Angeles for patients, knocking on car windows and peering into tents. It was the day after a winter storm had doused the city, and many of the unhoused people Feldman usually treats had moved to find somewhere dry.

Feldman leads the street medicine team at the USC Keck School of Medicine, providing primary care to thousands of L.A.’s homeless individuals. Many have chronic conditions, mental health disorders, wounds or other medical issues; they need health care desperately.

But Feldman and other street medicine providers across the state are worried that changes made to Medi-Cal eligibility by President Donald Trump’s “One Big Beautiful Bill” will cause a majority of unhoused people to lose insurance, limiting their options for care.

“It’s very possible over 90% of people experiencing unsheltered homelessness will lose insurance,” Feldman said of his L.A. patients.

Medi-Cal, also known as Medicaid federally, provides health insurance for low-income people and those with disabilities. The new law requires states starting in 2027 to verify that able-bodied adults younger than 65 without dependent children are performing 80 hours or more of work each month in order to qualify for Medicaid. It also requires states to verify income and other eligibility criteria every six months as opposed to once per year.

State officials estimate up to 2 million people – about 14% of the state’s 14 million Medi-Cal recipients – will lose coverage, either because they don’t meet the work requirements or because they get overwhelmed by the paperwork.

Meeting those requirements will be particularly challenging for the state’s roughly 180,000 homeless people. They often have no phones or internet to complete a job application. They have limited access to meals, showers or clean clothes. They commonly struggle with addiction or mental health conditions and often don’t have the ability to work. Research shows that homeless individuals have far worse health outcomes and a lifespan nearly 20 years shorter than the general population.

Often those who need health care the most are the ones who are least able to work, Feldman said.

Physician’s assistant Brett Feldman checks his patient Gary Dela Cruz on the side of the road near his homeless encampment in downtown Los Angeles in November.

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Larry Valenzuela

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CalMatters/Catchlight Local

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Without insurance, people who are unhoused won’t be able to pick up medications or find primary care providers. Their health conditions will worsen, and they’ll rely on emergency rooms more.

“This is going to be a huge issue for the unhoused,” said Kelly Bruno-Nelson, an executive director with CalOptima, an Orange County Medi-Cal plan that provides health insurance for an estimated 11,000 members with unstable housing.

Work exemptions

The law carves out exemptions for people who can’t work: those with substance use disorders, disabling mental health conditions, complex medical conditions and other disabilities. Children, people who are pregnant, foster youth and those with disabilities are also exempt from working, though they will be required to renew their Medi-Cal eligibility every six months.

On paper, many homeless Californians likely qualify for work exemptions. Nearly half of homeless Californians have a complex behavioral health need, including regular drug or heavy alcohol use, hallucinations or recent psychiatric hospitalization, according to recent reports from the UCSF Benioff Housing and Homelessness Initiative. About 60% report at least one chronic condition, and roughly a third have conditions that make bathing, dressing or eating difficult.

But to claim an exemption, a patient needs a doctor to certify it. Only half of insured and unhoused Californians regularly get care and only 39% have a primary care provider, Benioff data shows.

In L.A., even fewer unhoused people have a primary care provider. Just 7% of the population had seen a provider in the past year between 2022 and 2023, according to a study published by the USC Street Medicine program, meaning very few people would have medical exemptions certified under the new law.

That means many eligible people could lose Medi-Cal: people like Samantha Randolph.

The 37-year-old has lived the streets of L.A. for more than five years. She wouldn’t even know where to begin finding a job if she had to, she said. Her ID cracked in half, so she threw it away. Someone stole her phone months ago, and she has no recent work experience.

“I’m on my own. I’m doing this by myself,” Randolph said on that same January morning.

Randolph, who is seven months pregnant, would qualify for an exemption from the work requirements come 2027. Feldman’s team also checks on her regularly to monitor the baby and could certify an exemption if necessary. But even that’s no guarantee that Randolph wouldn’t inadvertently lose Medi-Cal.

Her health insurance expired six weeks prior to Feldman’s visit because the county enrollment office mailed the paperwork to an address where Randolph doesn’t live. Without Medi-Cal, which pays for maternity housing in the city, Feldman can’t get her inside.

“I’d love to get you out of here as soon as possible,” Feldman said to Randolph as he listened to her breathing and examined a bump on her head. “I’d love to get you somewhere safe and cozy.”

His benefits team has been working diligently in the background to re-enroll Randolph in Medi-Cal. Without identification and other documents, it has been a slow process.

State tries to automate eligibility checks

State Medi-Cal officials are working to launch an eligibility verification system that will automatically check for work requirement compliance and exemptions. They hope to spare the estimated 3.5 million Californians like Randolph who will need to comply with the law’s new requirements the headache of having to prove their qualifications on paper.

“This is a top priority for us in the department, really seeking to minimize the harm to members to the greatest extent that we can,” said Tyler Sadwith, state Medicaid director at the Department of Health Care Services.

The department is looking to purchase workforce data that will capture gig workers and more timely information about income than tax returns. The state already uses IRS data and information from other welfare programs like food stamps and cash assistance programs to verify Medi-Cal eligibility.

To exempt income-eligible students, the department wants to pull information from the state’s universities and colleges. And it is working to identify medical diagnosis codes that could be used to exempt people with disabilities or other qualifying conditions like mental health or substance use disorders.

If the state can link all of the data together, some qualifying and exempt Medi-Cal recipients won’t need to provide additional information.

“They won’t have to take action. They will receive a notification that they have been successfully renewed,” Sadwith said.

But there are gaps that will be difficult for the state to fill with automated data and questions left unanswered by the federal government. Evidence of volunteer work, for example, doesn’t exist in a large database, and it’s unclear if the federal government will require the medical diagnosis codes that could signal a qualifying exemption be reverified by a provider every six months. If they do, many unhoused Californians who don’t see a provider in time could still get kicked off of Medi-Cal.

Department officials also acknowledge that in states that have previously tried to implement work requirements, eligible people always fall through the cracks.

Matt Beare, a street medicine physician in Kern County, said falling through the cracks is the norm for people who are unhoused. Already, people like Randolph lose Medi-Cal all the time.

The law’s new requirements will only make that more likely.

Not even street medicine providers who work daily to find and follow up with unhoused patients can guarantee that they can locate them. Encampment sweeps, violent crime and weather force people to move frequently.

“The cost of falling through the cracks is likely human life,” Beare said.

Homeless could lose access, housing

California has invested significantly in street medicine teams over the past five years.

Street teams deliver comprehensive primary care services wherever unhoused people are: under bridges, on the side of the road, in encampments. They administer antipsychotic injections and contraceptives, provide wound care, deliver medications and help with substance use disorder treatment. Perhaps most importantly, they often travel with benefits counselors, social workers and housing specialists.

That and other Medi-Cal investments have helped the state chip away at its homelessness problem.

But with droves of patients expected to fall off of Medi-Cal, some providers predict that street medicine teams may also disappear, worsening the chance that unhoused Californians have a provider who can certify their work requirement exemptions.

“It's going to be very fiscally difficult for those programs to be able to sustain themselves,” Bruno-Nelson with CalOptima said.

Without Medi-Cal, unhoused people won’t be able to see specialists, get diagnostic testing or obtain most medications. They’ll rely more on emergency rooms. And because California policymakers have tied some housing and other social services to Medi-Cal, many experts worry members of this vulnerable population will lose their best chance at stability.

“These people are spinning through — some with 50 emergency room visits a year because they’re so sick — a vortex,” said Gray Miller, chief executive of Titanium Healthcare, a case management company that helps Medi-Cal recipients coordinate health appointments, find housing and manage chronic conditions.

Back in L.A. hours after he found Randolph again, Feldman takes a call and smiles. The county has finally approved her Medi-Cal application, which means Randolph now qualifies for maternity housing. He sends a colleague to pick her up.

“I’m so happy we got Sam inside.”

Supported by the California Health Care Foundation (CHCF), which works to ensure that people have access to the care they need, when they need it, at a price they can afford. Visit www.chcf.org to learn more.

This article was originally published on CalMatters and was republished under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license.

This weekend's Long Beach Pride Festival was canceled by the city on Friday — hours before kickoff. The city said festival organizers failed to provide the required safety documentation.

The Pride Parade, managed and funded by the city, will continue as scheduled on Sunday at 10 a.m.

The parade will start at Ocean Boulevard and Lindero Avenue and travel along the Ocean Boulevard coastline to Alamitos Avenue in Downtown Long Beach.

Roads will close and parking will be restricted starting hours before the parade. Streets are expected to reopen by 2 p.m.

No parking on these streets

Between 4 a.m. and 2 p.m. on Sunday parking won’t be allowed on:

• Ocean Boulevard from Redondo to Atlantic Avenues
• The immediate side streets on the north and south sides of Ocean Boulevard from Redondo to Atlantic Avenues

And these streets will be closed

The following streets will be closed to traffic during their designated times:

• 6 a.m. and 2 p.m. — Ocean Boulevard between Redondo and Lindero, including side streets on the north and south side of Ocean Boulevard
• 7 a.m. and 2 p.m. — Shoreline Drive between Ocean Boulevard and Shoreline Village Drive
• 8 a.m. and 2 p.m. — Ocean Boulevard between Lindero and Atlantic, including all side streets on the north and south side of Ocean Boulevard
• 8 a.m. and 2 p.m. — Alamitos Avenue between Ocean Boulevard and Broadway

Where you can park

Long Beach Pride says that parking will be available at the Long Beach Convention Center at 400 E. Seaside Way. Accessible parking and viewing will be available at Junipero and First Street, near Bixby Park.

Ride the Metro

Take the LA Metro A Line and exit 1st Street Station in Downtown Long Beach. After you exit, it's roughly a 10-minute walk down Ocean Boulevard to the parade festivities at Marina Green Park.

Editor's note: This story includes descriptions of allegations of sexual assault and rape.

Harvey Weinstein's latest sex crimes trial ended with a hung jury Friday, on the third day of deliberations.

It was the second time in a year a jury was unable to reach a verdict on the same charge.

Accusations against the former Hollywood mogul came to define the #MeToo movement, and he was first convicted of assaulting Jessica Mann in 2020. The former aspiring actress testified Weinstein raped her at a DoubleTree hotel in Manhattan in 2013. But that verdict, along with another charge, was later overturned.

In a second New York trial last summer, Weinstein was found guilty on one count of a criminal sexual act in the first degree and not guilty on another. But a third charge, of raping Mann, ended in a mistrial after the jury foreperson declined to return to deliberations, citing concerns for his safety.

Weinstein had returned to court for a third New York trial in April, this one focusing on Mann's allegations. But on Friday morning, Judge Curtis Farber received a note from jurors stating they were unable to reach a unanimous decision. Farber then read jurors a modified deadlock charge, known as an Allen charge, urging them to resume deliberations.

Jurors soon responded with another note restating their position. "We feel that no one is going to change where they stand," it said. Nine jurors fell on the side of not guilty; three supported a guilty verdict, Weinstein's lawyers told press outside of the courtroom.

The prosecution has until late June to decide whether they'll try the case again.

Outside of court, 55-year-old juror Rick Treese said that the group diverged on "where we actually had facts." He told reporters, "We didn't have enough facts to grasp onto, so it was emotion." People in the group "had varying emotions about it based on [their] experience in life."

"Everybody respected each other. Everybody respected their backgrounds. It was very civil. I feel certain that we dug into it enough."

Another juror, Josh Hadar, said his vote was for "not guilty," in part because he felt there might be parts of Mann's testimony that were "fabricated."

"I think the prevailing thought was that the witness had a lot of inconsistencies in her story," he said.

The mistrial concludes a month-long trial that was quieter than Weinstein's previous court appearances, with a diminished media presence and less public attention. Earlier this year, Weinstein hired a new legal team, including high-profile criminal defense attorneys such as Marc Agnifilo, known for representing Luigi Mangione and Sean "Diddy" Combs.

Defense attorneys argued that Mann and the then-married Weinstein had a consensual, on-again, off-again relationship over many years. But Mann testified that on that 2013 morning at the DoubleTree hotel, Weinstein "command[ed]" her to undress and penetrated her despite Mann repeatedly saying "no." Weinstein has denied all allegations of sexual assault.

Now 74, Weinstein has been incarcerated since 2020. In 2022, he was convicted of rape and sexual assault in a separate case in California and sentenced to 16 years in prison. He is appealing that verdict.

Agnifilo said outside court on Friday, "It's our job not just to win this case. There is an entire legal knot that needs to be untangled. And we're going to start untangling that knot strand by strand with the New York case and then the California case. So this really is just a first step." He said that this latest mistrial might not be "the win [Weinstein] wanted, but it's a win."

A statement from Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg said prosecutors were "disappointed that the proceedings ended in a mistrial" and would consider next steps in consultation with Mann.

"For nearly a decade, Jessica Mann has fought for justice. Over the course of many weeks during three separate trials, she relived unthinkably painful experiences in front of complete strangers," the statement said. "Her perseverance and bravery are inspiring to the members of my office, and more importantly, to survivors everywhere."

Weinstein's lawyers have said that he is in poor health. He used a wheelchair in court and did not testify on the stand in this trial, nor during any of his previous criminal cases. At one point during jury deliberations, Judge Farber announced Weinstein could not appear in court due to complaints of "chest pains."

Weinstein has given a limited number of interviews from prison, including with far-right podcaster Candace Owens and the Daily Mail. Most recently, he spoke with The Hollywood Reporter from Rikers Island.

When asked whether he had apologized to any of the women who brought charges against him, Weinstein told The Hollywood Reporter, "I apologized to them generally. You can't call them when you're in a trial with them. But I'll say it here today: I apologize to those women. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been with them in the first place. I misled them."

Citing his health issues, including bone marrow cancer, Weinstein said, "I'm dying here. And the DA's idea is probably to have me dying in prison. But I am dying."

More than 30 teams will take their handmade cars through a custom downhill course of twisty turns and obstacles Saturday as the Red Bull Soapbox Race returns to Los Angeles for the first time in nearly a decade.

Teams from across the country were selected from hundreds of applicants to compete on creativity, design, showmanship, course navigation and time.

There are no engines allowed in this race — all soapboxes must be gravity-powered.

Fully-functioning brakes and steering are required, but almost every other aspect of the engineering and design is left up to the competitors’ imaginations. According to Red Bull, the soapbox should be an extension of its team, the wilder and more outrageous the better.

From real racers to a car made out of bicycle parts

Contestants take on the course at the Red Bull Soapbox Race in Salt Lake City, Utah, in 2025.

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Long Nguyen

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Courtesy Red Bull

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The race includes competitors from across Southern California and beyond.

UCLA Bruin Racing, made up of the school’s Formula SAE Squad (which also design and race specialized cars), entered with its “Mk. 9 racer” soapbox that was originally an out of commission EV car.

Metro LA repurposed parts from some of the unclaimed bikes left behind on the transit system for its “carrot-colored” bus design (and yes, that is the agency’s nod to Tyler, the Creator’s song "Rah Tah Tah." IYKYK).

The Seagrave 13 team from Las Vegas is dedicating their soapbox to Pasadena first responders who battled last year’s Eaton Fire. They’re planning to donate the car to the L.A. County Fire Museum after the race.

Built on a patio

One of the homegrown teams trying their luck this year is made up of a group of renters and friends in Santa Monica and Victorville who built their “Runaway Hotdog Stand” soapbox on an apartment patio.

“The fact that we're able to do this shows that I mean anybody could do this, and honestly could do anything else,” Carlos Monson, captain of the Speedy Wiener team, told LAist.

The Speedy Wiener team drew their design inspiration from L.A.’s iconic hot dog carts, typically a small grill that serves bacon and veggie toppings outside concerts, sporting events and tourist attractions.

The Speedy Wiener team modeled their soapbox after L.A.'s iconic hotdog carts.

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Courtesy Carlos Monson

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“For us, luckily, a majority of them are Latino and we're like, you know what, this is actually a perfect opportunity because the whole team is Latino,” said Monson, who will also be driving the soapbox.

The group of friends, between 18 and 21 years of age, built most of their cherry-red car on Monson’s apartment patio under Victorville’s glaring sun.

The Speedy Wiener repurposed the base of an old, rickety go-kart frame for their "Runaway Hotdog Stand" soapbox.

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Courtesy Carlos Monson

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They repurposed the base using an old, rickety go-kart frame that Monson said took about an hour just to carry up the stairs and get through the front door.

They worked on the soapbox in between classes and shifts at work. The final touches include stamping their Speedy Wiener logo and adding a mock-menu to the frame. There’s also ketchup and mustard bottles with yellow and red streamers hanging from the nozzles and a rainbow umbrella over the wheel.

The team, made up of renters between 18 and 21 years old, built most of the soapbox on their captain's apartment patio in Victorville.

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Courtesy Carlos Monson

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For the car’s structure, Monson turned to a collection of cardboard boxes he had lying around after a recent move and attached the various pieces with zip ties.

“We'll be able to hopefully last when they make it down the race track,” he said.

Engineering students’ big break

Another entrant on Saturday is the Los Ingenieros, a group of mechanical engineering students from Cerritos College in Norwalk, who has taken inspiration from the team’s Hispanic heritage and Los Angeles culture.

Their car is lucha libre-themed with rails modeled after a wrestling ring and the driver donning a muscle suit and mask.

The red, white and green colors represent the Mexican flag and features Chicano-style pinstriping from L.A.’s lowriders, as well as some Aztec patterns.

The Los Ingenieros team is made up of a group of mechanical engineering students from Cerritos College.

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Courtesy Ruben Orozco

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“It's definitely going to be a powerful testimony to our culture,” said Ruben Orozco, a Los Ingenieros member from La Mirada.

The team never expected to be picked for the race, and Orozco said the invitation has been “mind-blowing” and “surreal.”

Arelie Marquez, another member from Long Beach, told LAist she sketched the design for the modified go-kart frame before the team chopped the wheels, boosted the back axle and added suspension. While some of the students drew up blueprints on engineering computer software, Marquez used her welding experience to help mount the brackets — all in Orozco’s backyard.

As a community college student, Orozco said he’s felt like he’s missed out on opportunities to showcase their knowledge and innovations compared to students in the Cal State or UC system, but the Red Bull Soapbox Race has helped shed that notion.

“Not only has it been reassuring to myself, but also we've used it as a platform to kind of show others in STEM, in community colleges, that you could do crazy things as a student,” he said.

And yes, the team is already highlighting the unique engineering experience on their resumes, according to Gabriel Ramirez, a Compton resident and another member along with his twin brother, Hector.

Their next challenge? Cramming for finals next week.

The Surfrider Foundation is hosting a protest in the Pacific Ocean on Sunday to oppose what it sees as mounting threats to our California coastline.

In 2015, a pipeline operated by Plains All American spilled more than 100,000 gallons of crude oil near Refugio State Beach in Santa Barbara County. Hundreds of marine mammals were killed or injured and beaches across the region were contaminated.

Bill Hickman, a senior regional manager with the Surfrider Foundation, remembers it well.

“I live in Ventura. We had a bottlenose dolphin wash up here that was covered in oil,” Hickman told LAist. “That was really sad to see. And there was oil on the beach all the way down to L.A.”

The spill also “shut down fisheries, closed multiple beaches, and impacted recreational uses such as camping, non-commercial fishing, and beach visits,” according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.

In March, the Trump administration invoked the Defense Production Act to bring that same pipeline, now run by Texas-based Sable Offshore, back online. The company says that the system will produce tens of thousands of barrels of oil a day, as well as “provide a secure, consistent source of domestic crude oil, replacing approximately 1 million barrels per month of imports.”

But Hickman and other environmental advocates say restarting the pipeline raises serious concerns. California sued the Trump administration in March to keep it shut.

The restart, along with the Trump administration’s push to open the California coast up to new oil and gas drilling for the first time in decades, has Hickman sounding the alarm.

“Right now it seems like if you’re not outraged you’re not paying attention,” Hickman said. “And luckily a lot of people are really fired up about all of the threats to the environment and particularly the Santa Barbara channel.”

Oil spills like the one in 2015 could also deeply affect tourism, the fishing industry and lead to billions in cleanup costs, according to Gov, Gavin Newsom’s office. In a January 2026 statement opposing the Trump administration’s new offshore drilling plans, the governor’s office said the state's coastal economy “supports hundreds of thousands of jobs and generates over $44 billion annually.”

On Sunday morning, Hickman will be part of a spiritual ritual in surf culture: a paddle-out into the ocean at Refugio State Beach.

He said anyone with a human-powered craft is welcome to join the circle to oppose drilling on our coasts.

“People are standing up. There’s a lot of opposition,” Hickman said. “Californians really treasure our coast, our beaches, our waves and really want to protect them.”