The Brief

If you’re trying to address homelessness in L.A., there is some foundational information you need in order to evaluate what’s working and what’s not, such as:

• How many unhoused people is the city moving into housing? 
• How many of those people are staying housed?
• How has this changed from the number of people housed last year?

For almost a year, we’ve been hunting down answers to these seemingly simple questions for the Promise Tracker, a project to hold L.A. Mayor Karen Bass accountable to her campaign pledge to house 17,000 unhoused Angelenos by the end of her first year in office.

For most of the year, we couldn’t get accurate answers. In fact, no one has been able to give clear answers to these questions for years, so this was a problem long before the current administration. But the Bass administration set their goal of housing 17,000 Angelenos without a thorough understanding of how such data is tracked and logged, meaning that for much of her first year in office, they — and therefore us at LAist — were operating without a clear picture of how much their interventions were working.

We revealed in late April that council members were not receiving the data reports they had ordered months earlier about the mayor’s signature homeless housing program Inside Safe, which would show exactly where the money is going and how many people have been sheltered. Council members then pressed the mayor’s office for the data, and numbers eventually started being provided to the council about two months later.

Until November, the overall housing numbers reported out by the city were rife with duplicates and other issues. As we investigated each of these issues, we learned that there were two key reasons why:

• The data collection process for some housing programs left room for many errors and missing information, and there wasn’t a system in place to ensure accuracy.
• Data on people entering housing was collected separately by program, so it wasn’t clear how much overlap there was among people moving between programs or cycling in and out.  

Although government officials say they have been working to address both issues, this was the obstacle in front of us all year: Even though we received updates on how many times people were housed, the numbers were likely inflated, and we had no idea by how much.

We also didn’t know how many of those people were still housed, or how many returned to the streets. Nor how this year’s numbers compare to previous years. All this made it impossible to have a clear picture of how progress was or wasn’t being made.

The city has allocated $1.3 billion for this year alone to invest in solutions for the homelessness crisis — a budget Bass called “unprecedented.” The state of emergency she declared as one of her first acts as mayor increased her powers to tackle the crisis.

Getting clear and accurate answers on how many people are being housed is essential to holding the Bass administration accountable on this problem. Government entities are calling out data issues as well. Just last week, the city controller’s office released an audit report showing that the lack of accurate data has prevented people who are unhoused from accessing available shelter and temporary housing.

L.A. City Councilmember Monica Rodriguez also referenced this problem during an August city council meeting about Bass’ signature temporary housing program: “There's a fundamental problem with getting some very basic information here, and it's costing taxpayers millions of dollars.”

Tracking programs, not people's overall path

There actually is a lot of data about how many people are being housed, but it’s tracked by program, making an overall picture of progress challenging to get.

The government funds several programs to place people into temporary and permanent housing: Bass’ Inside Safe program, tiny home villages, family shelters, permanent housing vouchers issued by the federal government, vouchers for veterans, and more. Different agencies track data for certain types of programs — the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority (LAHSA) manages data for temporary housing, the Housing Authority of the City of L.A. (HACLA) oversees vouchers, and the city’s Housing Department tracks how many people live in new permanent housing units funded by the city’s Proposition HHH.

Because a person might be a part of more than one homelessness program over time, they might be recorded more than once. And because these agencies don’t have direct access to each other’s data, this leads to duplicates, which can lead to inflated numbers.

At a Dec. 6 press roundtable showing homelessness progress numbers for Bass’ first year, city officials urged reporters not to add up the number of people housed in each program to get a total number of people housed because they had not removed any duplicate records.

The data is set up this way because individual programs are tracked separately.

Tracking the outcomes of programs makes sense — there are a lot of taxpayer funds on the line. Inside Safe alone has a budget of $250 million for just this fiscal year. And the city’s HHH housing program is authorized to borrow up to $1.2 billion, with additional funds for this housing coming from other levels of government. So it’s important to make sure that money is being spent effectively.

Program-oriented data answers questions like:

• How many times did people enter a particular housing program?
• How many times did people leave?
• What do numbers look like at specific shelters?

This can tell you whether services are being utilized and how much it costs, on average, to provide a service, like housing one person in one Inside Safe motel room.

But when the numbers only tell a story about programs and not people, it’s hard to get a sense of what’s happening overall. It prevents government leaders — and the public — from getting answers that measure overall progress, such as:

• How many people moved into housing across all programs this year?
• How many moved from one program to another? 
• How many returned to encampments? 
• How many left for other housing alternatives not provided by the government? 

Bass summed up the problem when she spoke with our radio program AirTalk in November.

“The data is process-oriented — how many people came into housing,” she said. “It’s not outcome oriented, meaning: How many people stayed in housing and what happened to them four to five months down the line? That data is not available.”

The numbers themselves were often inaccurate

In fact, there were many data points we couldn’t get at all — and neither could the City Council for nearly the first half of the year. As we reported in April, the Bass administration said the numbers couldn’t be trusted.

For example, in a July report the Bass administration said that when it looked at the March 2023 numbers for Inside Safe collected by LAHSA and compared it to reports from people running various shelters, they found that only 59% of Inside Safe’s data on people entering the program matched what was in LAHSA’s system.

The accuracy rates were far worse for permanent housing data and program exit data: 4% and 0%, respectively, according to the report.

Although LAHSA collects and maintains data across all the temporary housing programs in L.A., LAHSA officials usually aren’t the people handling the data entry of when someone enters or leaves a shelter or housing program. That responsibility falls to the service providers, usually nonprofits paid by LAHSA to run the shelter or housing under a contract.

According to LAHSA officials, there are about 6,000 people across different service providers who enter data into this system, making it challenging to ensure consistency and accuracy across the board.

When service providers record a new intake — that is, someone entering one of the government housing programs — sometimes the information they have is pretty limited, perhaps just a first name or a physical description, according to Bevin Kuhn, LAHSA’s senior advisor for IT and data management. These incomplete records of individuals are another challenge that leads to duplicates, Kuhn says. LAHSA officials say they constantly work to de-duplicate by merging profiles that have similar information.

Since we launched the Promise Tracker in May, we had been warned there were duplicates, and we flagged this in our earliest updates. It wasn’t until November, six months later, that the Bass administration shared numbers that it said were de-duplicated for temporary housing.

Providing detailed data entry while trying to move people out of encampments and into housing is “a lot for on-the-ground workers, especially if I’m a caseworker and I’m not data savvy,” said Kuhn. “It’s really hard to capture all those data elements perfectly.”

Most shelters don’t have much day-to-day turnover, Kuhn said. But one Inside Safe operation — in which an encampment is cleared and people living there are offered temporary housing — can lead to dozens of new housing placements in one day, making it a lot more challenging to enter data efficiently.

The L.A. Grand Hotel in downtown, one of the sites used as temporary housing for Inside Safe.

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LAHSA requires service providers to enter data on people entering and exiting shelters within 24 hours, according to the recent city controller audit. But the audit found that “LAHSA does not monitor or enforce their data entry requirements” to make its bed reservation system function properly.

For the Inside Safe motel program, providers also are required to log when unhoused people exit the motel room program, but LAHSA doesn’t enforce this requirement, a LAHSA executive told city council members in August. This means that a lot of service providers skip this step, she said at the time.

That meant the city might have been unknowingly paying for empty motel rooms, nearly eight months after the program had launched, council members were told by the mayor’s staff.

The mayor’s staff say they worked closely with LAHSA to deploy a system to resolve the discrepancies, and that LAHSA started using a revamped tracking methodology in June that improved the accuracy rates. And Kuhn said the agency beefed up their teams on the ground to work alongside providers to verify the accuracy of data.

It took most of this year to put the necessary changes in place and for the data to reach what the Bass administration considered an acceptable rate of accuracy for sharing with the public.

We're finally getting some clarity

Many of the data problems we encountered appear to be longstanding issues that Mayor Bass inherited when she came into office. She’s expressed frustration multiple times over these systems and the quality of the numbers. And she’s said her administration is working to establish new and better data systems, with the help of a new LAHSA CEO, Va Lecia Adams Kellum.

Bass is also taking on more of a direct oversight role at LAHSA — in a way that prior mayors have not — by putting herself on its governing commission. County supervisors Lindsey Horvath and Kathryn Barger have done the same, with Horvath now serving as the commission’s chair.

They’ve already made some changes to address some of these issues. LAHSA and the mayor’s office confirmed that they removed duplicates from their temporary housing numbers. We now know how many individual people moved into temporary housing.

As of Dec. 1, they reported that 21,694 people had moved into temporary housing in the year since Bass came into office in December 2022.

They also reported a 65% retention rate across all temporary housing programs — that is, 65% of the people who entered temporary housing are still housed as of today in either temporary or permanent housing.

But when it comes to the overall picture, we still don’t have reliable numbers.

There could still be double-counting of people who went from temporary housing into a permanent housing program. We don’t know how many people have left permanent housing and fallen back into homelessness. And we don’t know if that 65% retention rate is an improvement over prior years, because we don’t have a retention rate for 2022.

However, officials say more clarity is on the horizon. According to the mayor’s office, LAHSA and the city Housing Authority (which keeps data on permanent housing) have agreed to share more of their data going forward, so that everyone can better understand how many individuals are being housed across all types of housing, not just temporary housing.

What we know today

Here are the current, best-available answers to those simple, foundational questions that we’ve spent all year trying to figure out:

How many unhoused people has the city moved into housing?

At least 21,694 people as of Dec. 1, according to temporary housing numbers from LAHSA and the mayor’s office. Adding people who’ve used vouchers or moved into new permanent housing units, that number could be as much as 11,000 higher — but because there’s likely some overlap with those in temporary housing, we don’t know how much higher it actually is.

How many of those people are staying housed?

A 65% retention rate for 21,694 people suggests that around 14,000 people who moved into temporary housing this year would still be housed. We don’t know what the retention is for people who have moved into permanent housing.

How has this changed from 2022?

The mayor’s office provided these numbers on Dec. 6:

• 21,694 people moved into temporary housing in 2023, up from 16,931 the year before
• 7,717 people moved into housing using vouchers in 2023, up from 5,223 the year before
• 3,551 people moved into new permanent housing units in 2023, up from approximately 1,361 the year before

This suggests increases all around, but because there are still potential duplicates between different types of housing across both years, we still don’t know what the actual change is in the overall number of people housed.

Heading into Year 2 of Bass’s term, here are the questions we’ll be asking:

• How many people are being moved from temporary housing into permanent housing, especially in Inside Safe?
• What is the retention rate and how does it compare to retention for 2023?

Are there other questions we should be asking? Let us know by submitting your question below.

Cookbooks have always meant more to me than a list of recipes — they're storytelling objects. They carry memory, culture, voice, and visuals and they help us create memorable moments with the people we love.

That's the spirit behind Cookbook LIVE, an LAist live event series co-produced with the James Beard Foundation, that I've had the joy of hosting. Over three evenings, we brought together top cookbook authors and food-lover audiences for nights of culinary connection and exploration.

To close out the series, I sat down with James Beard Award winner and L.A. icon Roy Choi in November. His newest book, The Choi of Cooking — his first in over a decade — reimagines some of his go-to dishes with a lighter, more veg-forward twist. It's a book that reflects where he is now: still rooted in the flavors that made him a chef, but thinking about how we eat for the long haul.

During our conversation, Roy walked us through some of his favorite recipes and opened up about the journey that shaped him: growing up in kitchens filled with his mother’s "future food”, finding cooking later in life, surviving New York's toughest restaurants, and building Kogi into something cosmic and communal. It was an evening full of honesty, laughter, and real talk about food justice, access, and the myths we still cling to about chefs.

Below, I've pulled together a handful moments in the conversation have stuck with me — moments that resonated long after we left the stage.

Roy Choi in his own words

On his journey into cooking

Chef Roy Choi and LAist's Gab Chabrán discuss "The Choi of Cooking" before a sold-out crowd at Cookbook LIVE

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"The beginning of my chef career — entering the hardest kitchens before I even knew how to cook.

I found cooking a little bit later in life, in my mid-20s. A lot of cooks get into the kitchen very young. I grew up in a restaurant, but I wasn't really focused on being a cook. I was just in the restaurant as a restaurant kid.

I didn't really get into it until my late 20s, and so I felt like I had to make up time before I even knew how to cook, I was going to jump into the hardest top kitchens in the world and just figure it out on the fly.

Those kitchens were in New York City .... in 1997, I worked in the number one, number two and number three kitchen in New York City. Four stars on all restaurants. And I was not ready for that at all.

By the time I was done with those kitchens, I was just at a point where I should have been when I entered. But it built my palate, it built my work ethic, my technical skills and my sensory aptitude of everything."

On growing up in his parent's kitchen and "future cooking"

"My mom cooks for like 300 people and there are three of us in the room. She doesn't know how to alter the recipe . . . the recipe's built for 50 pounds of chicken. So she's still doing it to this day.

I grew up always in a house that smelled like cooking all the time. There was always food on the stove or on the table or in the laundry room. But that food wasn't for eating, it was for the future.

My mom was a futurist. Everything she was cooking was for the future, and what I was eating in the moment was from the past.

It never stopped. It was relentless — almost like maintaining a sourdough starter or working a 24-hour shift . . . soy sauce steeping, kimchi fermenting, garlic being roasted. On another level when you're 16, 17 and you bring friends over — you gotta explain it.

With a beef bone broth soup . . . it takes three days to cook that soup. You have to decide on Thursday that you're going to eat it on Sunday. You have to think of the soup today."

On starting Kogi and what it unlocked

Roy Choi, left, hands out food from his Kogi BBQ truck in Maywood in January 2024.

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"We started from a drunk night. It was a drunk night eating tacos in Koreatown, and my partner said, 'What if we put Korean barbecue in this? It'd be delicious.' And that's how it started."

When we started Kogi, when we were out on the streets, it was all of the ladies of the lot. That's why my name is Papi Chulo. All the tías embraced me . . . Kogi wouldn't exist if we didn't get the pass from the tías.

To me, Kogi is very cosmic. It never gets old. We've been around 17 years now . . . In 17 years, it's never felt like it needed to change. There are not many foods that live within this lexicon of timelessness . . . I've been very fortunate to crack the code on one of them."

On food justice and the reality of price

The chef's new book "The Choi of Cooking"

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"We still have to figure out why so much food goes to waste and why so many people are hungry . . . we have to move the priority of that dilemma upwards... build, like, a TikTok eating culture around the disparity in food justice.

I would like food to be a lot more affordable. The chef world is getting out of control. $42 for a pasta is ridiculous; a pasta without lobster shouldn't be $42 just 'cause it was handmade.

Price is the number one coded message within the disparity within food. It's the hidden thing. It's the secret message, the secret handshake and the dirty secret that no one wants to talk about. If you charge $42 for that pasta, it's going to just automatically exclude a whole sector of society and close the door on anyone being able to affect change in the future because they'll never be exposed to it."

On the fallacy of the restaurant chef

"A myth about being a chef or a restaurateur . . . that we got our shit together is a big fallacy.

You guys write about [chefs] like they're gods . . . like they're elves . . . the word 'genius' is thrown around a lot around chefs. That's so untrue, man. Chefs are hardworking people. A lot of chefs that you think have everything put together are literally figuring it out as you see them.

I don't believe that we're perfect, that we're geniuses and that we're gods and otherworldly. It's a job and a profession that requires you to get down on your knees, on your elbows, fingers in the dirt and really cook. You're more a sailor than you are a god or an elf."

Huntington Beach City Councilmember Butch Twining has sued Ocean View School District President Gina Clayton-Tarvin for what he alleges is a “sustained and coordinated campaign to publicly brand” him as “a white supremacist and extremist.”

At the heart of the complaint are Clayton-Tarvin’s tweets about Twining attending a vigil to honor slain conservative activist Charlie Kirk. On Sept. 13, 2025, she tweeted, “What’s worse? That Huntington Beach councilman Butch Twining was there gleefully chanting amongst alt right white supremacists. Anyone recognize this behavior? Look no further than his buddy and mentor councilmember Gracey Van Der Mark, HB’s resident Neo Nazi since 2017.”

In the lawsuit, lawyers for Twining wrote Clayton-Tarvin “weaponized” the vigil “into a digital smear campaign” against Twining that was carried out across multiple social media platforms and community forums.

According to the lawsuit, the vigil was “hijacked by a small group of bad faith opportunists,” prompting Twining to leave the vigil.

“Twining did not participate in the chant or march alongside the racist opportunists. Twining condemns white supremacy in all of its forms,” the attorneys wrote.

The lawsuit accuses Clayton-Tarvin of being “a prolific poster of misinformation designed to cause reputational harm” and that her recent posts are “increasingly manic and reckless, as if

the author is not only lying but also losing touch with reality.”

Twining also alleges that Clayton-Tarvin’s tweets led to three death threats.

A video that went viral from the day of the vigil that Clayton-Tarvin quoted in her tweet shows Twining holding a candle and an American flag. Some people are chanting “white men fight back” in the video, but it is unclear if Twining was one of them.

In an interview with LAist, Clayton-Tarvin called the legal action a “nonsense lawsuit.”

“ Butch Twining is a very sensitive man and he doesn't understand that he's trying to chill free speech. The facts of the matter are that he was there and he can't deny it,” she said, adding that her tweets were posted three days after the vigil and Twining was seen by hundreds of people.

Twining, she said, is going down a “slippery slope” with the lawsuit, showing other residents in the city that if they speak up or criticize a politician, they can be sued. Twining is seeking $25 million in damages from Clayton-Tarvin.

“This is about squashing the First Amendment, about damaging the public's rights, public participation,” she said.

The Orange County Board of Supervisors “undermined” the public’s trust when they granted themselves a 25% pay increase, according to the latest OC Grand Jury report released on Monday.

Since 2005, supervisors were set to make 80% of a Superior Court judge’s salary. That changed in June, when the board approved a 25% pay hike, increasing their salaries by about $49,000 to at least $244,000.

The pay increase raised eyebrows over the summer, sparking the Grand Jury investigation. A Grand Jury is a panel of citizens who investigate local government and public agencies. Members serve one year and look into several issues during that time.

It came just weeks after former Supervisor Andrew Do was sentenced to five years in federal prison for accepting more than $550,000 in bribes. The county itself is also financially in hot water following the Airport Fire, which has racked up hundreds of millions of dollars in damage claims against the county.

“The timing was especially troubling as the County of Orange (County) has been facing hiring freezes and budget constraints,” the Grand Jury reported. “This decision was not only tone-deaf — it reflected a deeper disconnect from the Board’s duty to serve the public with transparency and fiscal responsibility.”

What does the Grand Jury say? 

The Grand Jury questioned how the item was presented to the public and whether it was purposefully buried within the county budget agenda item.

“The Board added their salary increase into the $10.8 billion 2025-2026 Orange County Annual Budget adoption process. This resulted in a minimal description in the agenda and minimal opportunity for citizen input,” the Grand Jury reported. “Therefore, the Grand Jury investigated: why did they want to conceal their salary increase, was it warranted at this time and who initiated it?”

The board’s vote, the Grand Jury stated, signifies that the board prioritizes personal gain over accountability and public trust.

“Elected officials are entrusted to serve, not to enrich themselves. When this happens, the foundation of representative democracy is undermined,” the Grand Jury said. “The people of Orange County deserve better, and the people must demand it.”

How are officials responding? 

OC Supervisor Katrina Foley — the lone dissenting vote on the raises — said she was not surprised by the Grand Jury’s findings.

“I think most people felt that it was poor form for that to happen at that time, and given our current economic instability due to what's happening at the federal and the state level,” Foley told LAist.

Following the criticism, Supervisors Vicente Sarmiento and Doug Chaffee said they would donate their increased pay to charity.

“I am open to considering the recommendations in the report for changes to the pay ordinance and how future increases are approved, and I have been open to reconsidering the pay increase,” Sarmiento said in a statement.

A county spokesperson and Supervisor Don Wagner declined to comment. Supervisor Doug Chaffee and Janet Nguyen did not respond to LAist’s request for comment.

What’s next? 

The report made a handful of recommendations, including that the board rescind the pay raise and salary changes by next March “to restore institutional trust and demonstrate a genuine commitment to transparency and accountability.”

It also recommends that the board adopt procedures for proposing, reviewing and approving future supervisor salary changes that include public hearings.

The county has 90 days from the release of the report to respond to the Grand Jury, according to a county spokesperson.