The Brief

This story is part of ICE vs. LA, a collaborative reporting project by LA Public Press, Caló News, Capital & Main, Capital B, LA Taco, and Q Voice.

Four months after nearly 5,000 federal troops descended onto Los Angeles, Marsha Mitchell, a Black organizer in South Central, explained what made it impossible for her not to act: her neighbors.

At the peak of the federal immigration raids this summer — when U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement was arresting an average of 540 people per week in the city — her neighbor, Erica, and her husband and friend were taken by federal agents while eating breakfast in their home.

All three were placed in a van and driven toward downtown Los Angeles.

But Erica knew she had to get back to her small children, recalled Mitchell, a lifelong South Central resident, from a conversation she had with her neighbor.

“As a mother, her whole thing was, I got to get to my babies,” Mitchell said.

When the agents opened the van doors in downtown L.A., Erica broke free — still tied up, still terrified — and ran. While Erica managed to escape, her husband was placed in the detention center, where he said conditions were unbearable. According to Mitchell, he self-deported rather than endure them, choosing to escape the system that had trapped him.

Erica was the family’s breadwinner through her tamale stand, but with her husband gone, she is too afraid to leave her home. The family has collapsed financially under the weight of a single raid, Mitchell said.

“Not only has she lost her business, but also her husband and the ability to give her family what they need to survive,” said Mitchell, an organizer with Community Coalition, the long-standing anti-violence and drug addiction group founded by now-Mayor Karen Bass in 1990.

In South L.A., where Los Angeles City Council Districts 8, 9, and 10 have transformed from predominantly Black to predominantly Latino, and where the highest percentages of undocumented residents in the city now live, Erica’s story is part of the new normal.

For some South Central residents, the raids have triggered economic and social catastrophes. During the first weeks of concentrated immigration enforcement, 465,000 fewer workers reported for work. One local business owner told the economic justice group Strategic Actions for a Just Economy that he’d lost 80% of his business in the first month of the ICE crackdown. Other shops across South Central and downtown lost business for weeks.

The raids are posing a new hurdle for Black and Latino families to pay rent in one of America’s most expensive cities. But they’ve also catalyzed Black neighbors to act.

“[Erica] is a member of our community, and she is afraid to come outside,” Mitchell said. “She is not alone, and that is why we’re helping with mutual aid.”

Immediately, that looked like bringing her family groceries and referring them to resources for free mental health care.

Community Coalition, known as CoCo, is training dozens of block captains to canvass their communities and coordinate food drop-offs, safety check-ins, and care referrals in real time. They’re organizing their neighbors around the threats facing everyone, regardless of their race or residency status.

The immediacy of this care network — 18 block captains now, with hopes to reach 28 — emerged after Erica’s abduction by ICE, according to Mitchell, who works for CoCo.

L.A. County’s Black residents — 20% of whom are immigrants or children of immigrants — are standing in solidarity with their Latino neighbors, saying they are part of a shared fight against over-policing and racialized violence. Nine out of 10 ICE arrests have been of Latinos.

“Seeing families torn apart is so reminiscent of the white supremacist playbook that we’ve seen historically in communities of color, and that starts with our Indigenous siblings to slavery and through these latest ICE raids,” Mitchell said.

Neighbors moved to action

Pamela Riley envisions her South Central neighborhood with all the resources it needs to thrive, but that starts at the block level, she said.

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On a quiet stretch of 92nd Street, Pamela Riley propped open her front gate around 8 a.m. For one Saturday in October, her front yard — one of the typical South Central flair caged in by a sagging iron gate — became the heartbeat of a block fighting back against abandonment.

Within minutes, her neighbors began to gather. Grandmothers sipped coffee, young mothers munched on donuts, and teenagers organized flyers printed in Spanish and English.

Just steps from the 110 freeway and the ghostly remains of shuttered shops and clinics, her community is forging new lines of solidarity amid chronic neglect and a deep need for connection. This is the new frontline in South Los Angeles, where a coalition of Black and Latino residents is launching a network of “Neighborhood Action Hubs” along the Vermont and Broadway corridors to keep mutual aid alive as official support shrinks.

The goal: to weave a grassroots shield against ICE crackdowns and social services cuts and offer a model for how neighbors, not institutions, can bridge fear and isolation.

“That blueprint of success is there. The road is paved, we just need to walk it together,” said Riley, a 64-year-old lifelong South Central resident.

Later that morning, as the sun tried to fight through the gloomy sky, a group of three of the women who showed up at Riley’s event — two Black, one Latina — passed the same mural-painted utility boxes and chain-link fences that mark so many South L.A. blocks. Old-school Chevys, some missing hubcaps, were parked next to pickups and battered minivans, while the sound of cumbia drifted from a doorway where a woman watered her agave under the music’s sway.

As they moved from house to house, the group stopped at gates and asked neighbors about the specific issues facing their blocks and individual households. At one, a longtime Latino immigrant, gray-haired and smiling, shared how she planned to vote in the now-passed November election.

Riley’s block has become a lot more quiet and less frequented since ICE raids began.

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Deeper onto the block, the canvassers encountered two undocumented migrants — one a young father, the other a middle-aged woman. The father spoke to tangible issues in the neighborhood: “People have started stealing car tires at night and cutting wires from light poles for quick money,” he said.

The mother spoke quietly about work drying up and more neighbors “laying low” as rumors of ICE sightings swept through the area. The Latina canvasser asked directly about food access and whether anyone still sold homemade snacks. The woman hesitated, then explained in Spanish that she stopped selling crepes out of fear.

The canvassers turned to the others and suggested a solution: organizing a block-wide food vendor party, so people could sell their products safely.

Walking farther, they found themselves cautiously welcomed by a Black city worker who had lived on the block for decades. She described losing sleep as the city’s racial demographics shifted and her worry about Black and Latino votes being split or erased.

At each stop, the canvassers handed out cards with voting information and explained how to register, where to find drop boxes, and how to access rapid response teams if ICE was spotted or the lights went out again.

“Solidarity is literally in L.A.’s DNA,” Mitchell said. “We know that when communities come together, we weather all kinds of storms — governmental, financial, whatever comes our way.”

L.A.’s long-history of racial coalitions

Neighborhood canvassers speak to a women. This specific Saturday, these two canvassers knocked on dozens of doors for over 2 hours.

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Riley said her memories are filled with better days: bustling shops, a hospital on 94th, neighbors who’d send their kids to college together. She has watched her neighborhood swing from prosperity to depression and now, uncertainty.

Today, Riley’s yard and days are devoted to strategizing — she and other block captains count names, rehearse response plans and dream of new “welcome to South Central L.A.” signs at every corner. During meetings, they talk about how, in other parts of the city, neighbors stand by each other in crisis; here, too, unity could mean survival. The terror of recent abductions — a beloved tamalera torn from her routine and dayworkers swiped off the streets — still haunts these blocks, sharpening every knock at the door.

“I grew up in a civil rights era of the ’60s, and I’m starting to realize this is the new era of civil rights,” Riley said, explaining that the attack on civil rights today has extended far beyond immigration raids. “It is requiring more from all of us.”

Having lived through what she considers broken promises following the devastation of the 1992 L.A. Riots, Riley said she understands that revival cannot rely on state intervention alone, and it bridges racial divides. Instead, she insists, “what’s going on in Washington DC is showing us we need to join together and support each other.”

It also reminds her of the power of community. During the 1992 protests against police brutality, Latinos constituted the largest portion of arrests despite making up a smaller percentage of the overall population at the time.

Dozens of volunteers began their Saturday at 9 a.m. to door knock.

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The roots of Black and Latino collaboration go back to the founding of L.A. itself, where 26 of the city’s 44 original settlers in 1781 were Black/Afro-Latino with Spanish surnames — establishing a tradition of mixed neighborhoods and joint political action. This foundation was later strengthened during the Great Migration and again throughout the 20th century, when Black and Latino residents forged working alliances in the face of shared exclusion from citywide power.

In recent decades, the demographic mix in South Central has shifted further. Where once the community was predominantly Black, Latino residents now form the majority. The change created new opportunities for solidarity, as well as challenges, especially after Latino L.A. City Council members were caught on tape using racist anti-Black language while discussing concerns about the political power of Black residents. The tapes reopened wounds over neighborhood displacement.

Today, the skepticism remains real for a lot of Black people in L.A. In June, a viral moment spread across the internet after Latino protesters hurled racial insults at a Black L.A. police officer.

“A significant number of Black folks don’t see this as their fight,” author and commentator Earl Ofari Hutchinson said after the protest in June. “They’ve seen anti-Blackness in Latino communities. They’ve felt left out when it came to our issues. That breeds skepticism.”

But “if anything, the debate over whether Blacks should link hands with Latino activists in the immigration battle seems age old,” Hutchinson wrote on his daily blog.

Hector Sanchez, CoCo’s Deputy Political Director, agreed.“It takes a lot of work. I’m not going to say it’s very easy … but it’s people that are willing to have those difficult conversations at times to ensure that we have each other’s back.”

Just a day after the city council tapes leaked, more than 400 people came together in Boyle Heights “to talk about the importance of multi-racial solidarity,” he said. Despite the tensions, neighbors continue fighting side by side for justice and belonging.

When canvassers could not get in contact with residents, they left behind these door hangers with a list of resources.

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In the years since, organizers have responded by promoting cross-cultural events, joint canvassing efforts, and language exchange programs. Language exchange workshops and “know your rights” sessions — alongside mutual aid deliveries — have become linchpins of the hub approach.

“We are not just helping Black folks, not just one population. It’s for all of us,” explained Sequarier McCoy, a 49-year-old lifelong L.A. resident.

“I grew up in a Black and Brown community,” she added. “I smelled Black-eyed peas, but I also smelled tortillas. I like corn on the cob and Esquites.”

McCoy is also acutely aware that the issues of migration, detention and deportation are far from just Latino issues. “It’s also for Dominican folks. It’s also for Belizean folks. It’s also for Caribbean folks,” she said. She said her partner, a Belizean migrant, is living in fear too.

Black undocumented migrants are deported at a rate four times more often than their numbers would suggest, according to an analysis of federal data by the Black Alliance for Just Immigration.

It is why this practical solidarity spans crises, organizers said. When SNAP benefits run dry, when an ICE van is spotted, or when a neighbor’s lights go out, the same phone trees and rapid response plans kick in.

“This work is an honor as a human being, not just as an activist,” McCoy said.

This story first appeared on The LA Local.

Inglewood is staring down the barrel of a $30.8 million budget deficit next year, the city’s largest in at least two decades, but officials said locals don’t need to be worried. 

Inglewood’s budget ballooned after SoFi Stadium opened in 2020. City officials roughly doubled their spending from the general fund — the pot of money that pays for basic services from police to parks. 

Revenue also boomed in the first few years after the stadium’s opening, but since then hasn’t quite kept up with what’s been spent. 

City officials downplayed the projected deficit last week, saying in reports and presentations that reserves of more than $150 million will cover the gap this year and that they expect increased tax and other revenues to help take care of the problem in the future.  Mayor James Butts said locals have no reason to worry, and that the city’s reserves have enabled officials to be ambitious in their planning. 

Whether they have to dip into those savings at all depends on how locals vote for a ballot measure on Nov. 3. Officials predict Measure AT could wipe out the deficit entirely by bringing in as much as $45 million to $50 million extra in taxes on tickets to major events.

But_, if Inglewood continues to spend more than it takes in over the coming years and pulls too much out of its reserves, city officials could be pushed to lay off staff and cut funding for services, as they did during a fiscal crisis 15 years ago.

The City Council approved the budget proposal in a 4-0 vote at its Tuesday meeting. Councilmember Eloy Morales Jr. was absent.

Here’s a breakdown of Inglewood’s budget

Inglewood’s annual general fund revenue has grown by about $100 million over the last 10 years, driven in large part by increased property taxes and admissions tax.

But that growth has plateaued over the last five years, while expenditures continued to grow. The city plans to spend $279 million out of its general fund this year, more than double its annual spending prior to 2020.

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The city’s total budget is $675 million. It includes the general fund as well as special funds that pay for things like major construction projects and affordable housing.

Police take the largest bite out of Inglewood’s general fund, followed by the public works and parks departments.

Outside the general fund, the city has also budgeted $239 million for capital projects.

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Some of Inglewood’s largest sources of general fund revenue are property tax, sales tax and admissions tax. 

Property tax revenue has grown by leaps and bounds over the last five years, according to budget documents, but admissions tax and sales tax haven’t matched the growth.

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Officials hope city reserves and a ballot measure will fill the deficit

Inglewood has had budget issues before. The deficit approached $18 million in 2010, just before Mayor James Butts was elected, while reserves fell to around $11 million.

This time around, officials say Inglewood has over $150 million in reserves. 

Butts said those reserves have allowed the city to take an aggressive approach to improving streets, traffic lights and other city infrastructure.

“We put the money there because we want the city to be rehabilitated,” Butts said.

Pulling from reserves, though, isn’t something a city can do indefinitely. City Manager Louis Atwell wrote in a budget report that staff expect tax revenue to keep increasing and new developments to give the city an additional boost. With staff keeping an eye on operating costs, Atwell wrote, those revenues would narrow the city’s budget gap down the line. 

This year’s election could also come into play. The two city ballot measures voters will see — AT and BB — are the product of a larger battle between the city and its stadiums over billboard advertisements and the development deal that brought SoFi Stadium to Inglewood.

Either measure could have a substantial effect on the city’s books. 

Inglewood currently pulls in a 10% tax on SoFi Stadium tickets, but with an annual ceiling on how much the city can get. Measure AT, backed by billboard company WOW Media, would remove the cap and add a new 2.5% tax for the Intuit Dome.

Officials estimated it would bring in between $45 million and $50 million extra annually, more than enough to cover the city’s current deficit. Atwell cautioned, though, that the figures aren’t guaranteed and could depend on economic conditions, the timing of the measure’s roll-out and other factors. 

On the flip side, officials said Measure BB could curtail billboard fees and ratchet the deficit up to almost $39 million. 

The initiative would ban most commercial advertising on the large video billboards that have cropped up along the city’s main roads. Measure BB would cut off a revenue stream that, according to past budget documents, has brought the city between $3 million and $7.5 million. 

City officials itemized how much Inglewood made from billboards in each of the last 10 years, but did not do so in this year’s budget. 

The ballot measures are just a few items on a packed Inglewood ballot that includes elections for mayor, two city council members and three Board of Education trustees. 

International politics moved front and center in the Los Angeles mayor’s race Tuesday night, with the candidates offering differing views on how to describe what’s happening in Gaza.

Incumbent Mayor Karen Bass and challenger City Councilmember Nithya Raman answered questions separately at a forum sponsored by the Jewish Federation of Los Angeles at the Skirball Cultural Center in the Sepulveda Pass. The candidates were interviewed back-to-back on stage by moderator Alex Cohen.

The forum was designed to address the concerns of Jewish Angelenos.

Raman was asked about her use of the term “genocide” and whether it is appropriate to describe Israel’s attacks on Gaza.

L.A. City Councilmember Nithya Raman, right, on stage with moderator Alex Cohen at the Skirball Cultural Center during a mayoral forum on Tuesday, September 29, 2026.

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“I used it because other experts have used it to describe what’s happening,” she said. “And I used it because I felt compelled to speak out about issues that we saw, the images that we saw, the targeting of hospitals, the deaths of children.”

Bass had a different response from her opponent when asked whether she believes the term applies in Gaza.

“When I think of foreign affairs, especially conflicts, my focus is on how they impact the city of L.A. — no, I don’t,” Bass responded.

L.A. Mayor Karen Bass answers questions at a mayoral candidates forum held at the Skirball Cultural Center.

The Gaza Health Ministry estimates 74,000 Palestinians have died in the war, including many children and noncombatants.

The war started on October 7, 2023, when Hamas-led militants launched a surprise attack on Israel, killing around 1,200 people and kidnapping 251.

Genocide is an international crime defined by the United Nations as any act committed with the specific intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group.

The U.S. government and Israel vehemently deny genocide is going on in Gaza. Many other countries and human rights organizations disagree, saying it is genocide.

Candidates differ on Israel boycott

The two also split on the boycott, divestment and sanctions movement against Israel.

Raman called it “a legitimate form of peaceful protest” against Israel over its treatment of the Palestinians, prompting loud boos from some in the crowd.

“I support people’s right to protest,” she said. “And I will fight for that right even when I don’t agree with protesters, or when I agree with protesters.”

Raman is a member of the Democratic Socialists of America, which supports the boycott and divestment of Israel.

Bass said she would oppose any effort to enact sanctions against Israel.

Cohen also asked Raman about her appearance with Hasan Piker, a left-wing Twitch streamer and outspoken critic of Israel.

Raman said she disagreed with some of Piker’s views, saying it’s important for elected officials “to go speak to them even when you disagree.”

Raman said she has been an outspoken critic of antisemitism and was the first L.A. elected official to denounce the 2023 attack on Israel.

National polls on Gaza

The divergence in views between Bass and Raman represents a larger shift in the Democratic Party over Israel.

A new AP-NORC poll found erosion of support for the longtime U.S. ally, with rising opposition from Democrats.

About one-third of U.S. adults — including roughly half of Democrats — believe that Israel has committed genocide against Palestinians during the war in Gaza, according to The Associated Press. About 2 in 10 Americans say Israel has not, and the rest, about half, don’t know enough to say.

A similar share, 30%, of Jewish adults say Israel has committed genocide, although about half, 49%, say it has not.

“40 hours, $2M+ AI credits, solve an open problem.”

So read the splashy announcement for the “Mathathon” at the California Institute of Technology in Pasadena. Dozens of teams would work to solve vexing math problems with the help of artificial intelligence as part of “the first hackathon ever devoted to research level mathematics,” according to the early September post. AI juggernauts Anthropic and OpenAI were set to sponsor the two-day competition.

The backlash came swiftly. Critics objected not only to using AI to tackle open problems, but also to the involvement of AI companies whose models and research practices they have criticized.

Within days, current and former Caltech mathematicians published an open letter calling on the undergraduate organizers to suspend the event. The Mathathon, they argued, would only fuel the creation of “slop mathematics” and serve as public relations for the companies.

Instead of canceling the event, Caltech student organizers responded as any mathematician would — they tried to solve the problem.

The undergraduates redesigned the competition. Instead of trying to solve open mathematical problems, teams will now aim to develop alternative proofs for existing, yet unsatisfying solutions. The November event will also no longer be sponsored by the companies that develop proprietary AI models.

“We came to the decision that we want to put up an event that unites the math community, rather than divides it,” Brian Zhao, one of the Mathathon organizers and a junior studying applied mathematics at Caltech, told EdSource.

The controversy over the Mathathon event laid bare the growing tensions unfolding in the mathematics community over what role AI should play in advancing the field.

AI has already helped to solve elusive math problems. OpenAI announced this month that it used an internal AI model “significantly more capable” than the latest publicly available models to solve one of the remaining six Millennium Prize Problems. But mathematicians have warned about AI’s negative impact on mathematics students, and criticized these companies’ approach to solving high-profile problems.

“To put it bluntly, AI companies are engaging in research misconduct,” wrote the authors of the open letter, which gained the signatures of 2,038 academics as of this week.

‘That’s not the culture of mathematics’

Earlier this summer, Zhao and his roommate came up with their idea of a fun weekend: lock themselves in a basement and try to solve math problems for 40 hours straight. He was inspired by hackathon-style competitions in which programmers and designers compete to build hardware or software under deadline.

The idea of using AI to try to solve open math problems was two-fold. With mathematics undergoing one of the biggest changes in decades because of AI, the Caltech undergrads wanted to organize an event to experiment with AI and better understand how the field may evolve by the time they start graduate school.

Also, the students hoped that advertising the event with flashy statements — like suggesting teams would have access to $2 million in AI credits — would attract high-profile professors as judges and big lab sponsors.

“What is the role of a mathematician when AI can solve conjectures faster?” Mathathon organizers initially asked on the event’s website.

The AI-infused premise of Mathathon drew the ire of current and former Caltech mathematicians.

“I found it pretty outrageous, taking $2 million worth of sponsorships from OpenAI and Anthropic (and) partnering with these companies that have been, in my opinion, and many other mathematicians’ opinion, very disrespectful to our field,” said Yujin Kim, a postdoctoral fellow in Princeton University’s math department.

Kim had been critical of OpenAI’s approach to solving elusive mathematics problems in viral social media videos. The companies’ sponsorship of the event “felt like aligning with the empire,” Kim said.

“I can’t imagine [the Mathathon] would go any way other than just essentially button pressing and prompting,” Kim said. “That’s not the culture of mathematics. That’s not how we operate.”

After the backlash, OpenAI pulled its support from the event.

“We recognize that the rapid progress of AI in mathematics is disruptive,” Dan Roberts, OpenAI’s research lead, said in a social media post after the open letter was published. A spokesperson for Anthropic declined to comment.

The updated Mathathon competition will allow participants to use AI, but highly encourage them to use open-source tools that can be modified by the public instead of proprietary models run by private entities like OpenAI.

“We are proud of all of our students for the passion, drive, and maturity they have shown throughout this development,” Caltech spokesperson Emily Velasco said in a statement. “The spirit of open inquiry is central to the scientific process, and we hope to see a continued exchange of ideas as the math community charts its course forward.”

Zhao said he and his fellow organizers are determined to move forward with hosting the event. He said organizers hope the Mathathon will allow students to discover ways to use the technology responsibly, and build a bridge between AI developers and the math community.

AI can act like a shortcut to solving math problems

AI has conjured much debate in the math community, some of which has been overdue, said Dimitri Shlyakhtenko, a UCLA math professor who has followed Mathathon developments but did not sign the open letter.

From the outside, it may look like AI is upending the field by solving high-profile problems that have stumped mathematicians for decades. But the reality is more nuanced, Shlyakhtenko said.

“It is very rare that some result in mathematics is obtained out of nothing,” he said. “It usually builds on a mountain of other works that happen, and usually there’s a community of people that care about a particular set of problems.”

Mathematics problems aren’t about the destination of finding a solution, he said. Rather, mathematicians develop new techniques and understandings along the journey to solve a problem. He likened it to hiking to a waterfall. The end goal is to see the waterfall, but the things you discover along the journey are also quite interesting and of value.

With AI, he said that “what we’re seeing right now is that it is sometimes possible to take a kind of a direct shortcut.”

Some mathematicians worry that using AI to solve problems robs training opportunities from younger mathematicians.

Training problems provide opportunities for graduate students to learn skills and approaches to mathematics, but “if those just get solved, then the motivation to do it is kind of gone, right?” Shlyakhtenko said.

Over the past several months, as the Mathathon drama unfolded, Zhao said he has learned two important lessons: Be ambitious and be humble.

Maintaining the lofty goal of the event — of trying to help unravel the thorny debate of AI’s role in mathematics — has helped the team persist in the face of challenges, Zhao said. He added that it also developed the event into something more than just a fun, competitive weekend. The conversations with mathematicians around the world about the event have also taught him to be wary of flashy statements.

“If we just present ourselves honestly as undergrads who are curious about AI, we actually attract more sympathy,” Zhao said. “We actually attract more mathematicians who are willing to help us.”

The Orange County Transportation Authority approved $10.5 million for Metrolink services for the second quarter of the fiscal year as the rail service faces a dip in ridership and rising operational costs.

A majority of Metrolink’s budget is funded by Orange, Los Angeles, Riverside, San Bernardino and Ventura counties’ transportation departments.

The OCTA board’s approval this week follows a previous $14.5 million contribution in June to support Metrolink services for the first quarter of the fiscal year. Funding for the remainder of the year depends on a formal Metrolink budget request, board approval and approval from neighboring transportation authorities.

How did we get here? 

In December, OCTA told Metrolink that its fiscal year 2026-27 contribution would need to remain at no more than $46 million. But in July, Metrolink submitted an operating budget draft that would exceed OCTA’s contribution limit by about $6 million. OCTA tasked Metrolink with coming back with a revised budget that is within its contribution limits.

“Metrolink ridership has suffered since the pandemic began over six years ago,” Andrew Oftelie, OCTA's chief financial officer, said. “Metrolink ridership today is at about two-thirds of what it was prior to the pandemic. Lower ridership combined with higher costs has meant that Metrolink has asked member agencies like OCTA to fund a greater percentage of the service.”

The amount Metrolink asked for from OCTA has almost doubled since pre-COVID, Oftelie added, and OCTA’s contribution has not been a huge budget issue in the last five years because of a “significant amount of one-time” state and federal funds.

“Those one-time funds have all been exhausted at this point, which is why we gave Metrolink a budget target this year,” Oftelie said. “That budget target was commensurate with the amount of ongoing revenues we expect to receive from Metrolink service going forward.”

Why it matters

In a presentation to the OCTA finance and administration committee on Sept. 17, Metrolink CEO Darren Kettle said the Orange County line is the rail’s highest revenue generator.

Ridership has grown slightly over the last two years, he added, but challenges remain. In creating a budget for this fiscal year, Metrolink officials have made $16 million in budget cuts. In April, LA Metro also proposed to reduce its subsidy to Metrolink by 3%.

“The last thing I want to do … is pin this on our member agencies,” Kettle said. “The fact of the matter is we would have a challenging financial situation without those reductions from LA Metro and OCTA.”

What’s next? 

Oftelie told the OCTA board that a revised budget request from Metrolink is expected this week.