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The Brief

The most important stories for you to know today
  • Black and Latino neighbors unite in South LA
    A smiling woman wearing a blue shirt that says "Community Coalition Action Fund" stands in front of a beige house.
    “This work is an honor as a human being, not just as an activist,” Sequarier McCoy said.

    Topline:

    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. 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.

    Long history of solidarity: 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. 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

    This story is part of ICE vs. LA, a collaborative reporting project by LA Public Press, Caló NewsCapital & MainCapital BLA 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
    A smiling woman wearing a blue shirt that reads "community coalition action fund" stands in front of a beige house. Behind her, a group of people chat around a table and rows of blue plastic chairs.
    Pamela Riley envisions her South Central neighborhood with all the resources it needs to thrive, but that starts at the block level, she said.
    (
    Adam Mahoney
    /
    Capital B
    )

    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.

    Five chairs are place along the wall of a building painted pink and black. On the building a butterfly is painted in red above the words "bossy boutique"
    Riley’s block has become a lot more quiet and less frequented since ICE raids began.
    (
    Adam Mahoney
    /
    Capital B
    )

    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
    Two women stand at a wooden fence, speaking to another woman on the other side of the fence.
    Neighborhood canvassers speak to a women. This specific Saturday, these two canvassers knocked on dozens of doors for over 2 hours.
    (
    Adam Mahoney
    /
    Capital B
    )

    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.

    A group of people stand on the lawn of a home chatting. There's a table and a group of blue plastic chairs set up on the lawn
    Dozens of volunteers began their Saturday at 9 a.m. to door knock.
    (
    Adam Mahoney
    /
    Capital B
    )

    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.

    A small paper sign that reads "no hate no fear" hangs on a mailbox. The sign and mailbox are pictured through a black metal fence
    When canvassers could not get in contact with residents, they left behind these door hangers with a list of resources.
    (
    Adam Mahoney
    /
    Capital B
    )

    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.

  • 4 takeaways from the World Cup so far

    Topline:

    The worries before the World Cup were many, from visa wait times to high ticket prices. Now, with the knockout round set to begin Sunday, it is time to declare: The North American World Cup has been a success.

    Why it matters: Overall, the stadiums have been full. Visitors and hosts alike have been dazzled by the scenes. And of course, the games have been terrific.

    Read on ... for more takeaways from the tournament so far ...

    KANSAS CITY, Mo. — The worries before the World Cup were many. There were the visa wait times, the ticket prices, anxieties over hotel rooms and public transit, and countless battles between FIFA and local organizing committees.

    Now, with the group stage done and the knockout round set to begin Sunday, it is time to declare: The North American World Cup has been a success.

    No doubt there were visitors who were turned away, would-be attendees who could not afford tickets, and hotels and local businesses who feel the promised bump in tourism hasn't materialized.

    But overall, the stadiums have been full, even for matchups that seemed lackluster on paper: nearly 70,000 people packed into stadiums to see games like Cape Verde-Saudi Arabia, Algeria-Jordan and Bosnia and Herzegovina-Qatar. And for headliner events, the environment has been top-tier, like at the U.S.-Australia game in Seattle and in Kansas City for Lionel Messi's historic hat trick for Argentina.

    Visitors and hosts alike have been dazzled by the scenes. Kansas City was swarmed with tens of thousands of Dutch fans for a pre-game march. Boston was besieged by the Tartan Army. Australian fans seized their chance to come to the closer North American coast, where they packed the stands and belted "Waltzing Matilda."

    And of course, the games have been terrific. Now, the knockout round is set, with some blockbusters shaping up for the Round of 16 and beyond.

    Read on for more takeaways from the tournament so far:

    A medium-light-skinned man in a white soccer jersey on the left and a medium-dark-skinned man in a blue soccer jersey on the right run after a soccer ball.
    France forward Kylian Mbappé (r) runs with the ball past Iraq's midfielder Zaid Ismael during a World Cup Group I match in Philadelphia on June 22.
    (
    Franck Fife
    /
    AFP via Getty Images
    )

    France is the best team in the tournament

    Some pre-tournament favorites have looked good, like Argentina. Others have underwhelmed, like Portugal. Some have mixed their good and bad moments, like England, Germany and Brazil.

    But one team has consistently looked a cut above the rest: France. Les Bleus had supposedly drawn one of the toughest groups at this World Cup, with dark horses Senegal and Norway competing with them for the top spot. After a sluggish first half to start their opener against Senegal, France turned on the gas and has cruised ever since. They've made their World Cup look downright easy, with at least three goals in each game.

    No path to the World Cup Final is easy, and France would certainly arrive battle-tested if they get there, with a potential later matchups in the Round of 16 against Germany, in the quarterfinal against the Netherlands or Morocco and in a possible semifinal against Spain. But their group stage performance leaves no doubt that they should be the favorites to win all of them, and more.

    The U.S. is better than expected, though its path to the quarterfinals isn't easy

    Is this finally the World Cup run to remember for the USMNT? The American men were once the plucky underdogs of international soccer, always willing to run for 90 minutes and gut out a tough, gritty game. Those days seemed to fade for a decade or two after their 2002 quarterfinal run.

    U.S. players celebrate during their World Cup group match against Paraguay.
    (
    Dean Mouhtaropoulos
    /
    Getty Images
    )

    Suddenly, the results are good, the vibes are even better, and the expectations are growing by the minute. For the first time ever, the starting lineup mostly features players with key roles on teams in top European leagues. And these boys can score: The six goals they scored in their first two group stage games were twice as many as they netted across four games in the 2022 World Cup.

    The third group stage match against Turkey, in which U.S. coach Mauricio Pochettino gave most of his usual starters a rest and his backups a chance to play, cooled their momentum somewhat with a 3-2 loss.

    Still, a Round of 32 matchup against Bosnia and Herzegovina should be winnable. That would be their third win of the tournament so far, the most ever by any U.S. men's team at a World Cup. And a potential Round of 16 matchup against Belgium (or Senegal) is tougher but should be competitive, too. A quarterfinal in Los Angeles, even if it's a loss against Spain, would be an epic and fitting result for this team on home soil.

    This will be an epic Golden Boot race

    The stars are delivering in this World Cup. Argentina's GOAT Lionel Messi has six goals. France's twin titans Kylian Mbappé and Ousmane Dembélé are hot on his heels with four goals apiece. The imposing 6-foot-5 Norwegian megastar Erling Haaland has four goals despite resting on the bench for Norway's third game. Brazil's Vinícius Júnior also has four.

    Argentina forward Lionel Messi celebrates scoring his team's third goal during a group match against Jordan on Saturday. It was his sixth goal of the tournament, and record 19th overall World Cup goal.
    (
    Paul Ellis
    /
    AFP via Getty Images
    )

    Messi should have plenty more opportunities as Argentina drew perhaps the easiest route to the quarterfinal, with a Round of 32 match against Cape Verde, followed by a possible Round of 16 game against the winner of Egypt versus Australia. Plenty of other stars have two or three goals and what could be a deep run ahead, like England's Harry Kane and Portugal's Cristiano Ronaldo. Watch this space.

    The expansion to 48 was criticized, but it has been a lot of fun

    The biggest criticism of expansion was that there would be no real peril for top-quality teams in the group stage, both because there would be more lopsided group stage matchups and because eight third-place teams advance. That has mostly borne out.

    The highest-ranked World Cup team that failed to qualify for the knockout stage was Uruguay, which came in ranked No. 16. By contrast, the 2022 tournament had four teams ranked higher and were eliminated in the group stage — Belgium (No. 2), Denmark (No. 10), Germany (No. 11) and Mexico (No. 13). The new Round of 32 will have to do some of that work of adding surprise and peril to the big favorites.

    The expanded format has also given us moments and teams to remember, like Cape Verde — which would probably not have reached the World Cup under the old format — taking the pre-tournament favorites Spain to a scoreless draw in their opening match. It's a thrill for fans of teams that rarely have a shot, like Scotland or Haiti or the Democratic Republic of Congo, to have a chance to see their nation on this kind of stage. In fact, nine (of 10) African countries advanced to the knockout round.

    Plus, seven teams have reached the knockout stage for the first time in their country's history: Cape Verde, Egypt, Ivory Coast, South Africa, Congo, Canada and Bosnia and Herzegovina. Sure, they won't be favorites to make a deep run. But the games should be electric.
    Copyright 2026 NPR

    A dark-skinned woman in a crowd of people holds a scarf that reads "Cabo Verde" above her head.
    A supporter of Cape Verde's national football team reacts as she watches the 2026 World Cup group match against Saudi Arabia on Friday.
    (
    Jose Correia
    /
    AFP via Getty Images
    )

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  • AFI says 'Blazing Saddles' is funniest film ever
    Cleavon Little as Sheriff Bart and Gene Wilder as the Waco Kid in the movie Blazing Saddles.

    Topline:

    The American Film Institute is out with this bold proclamation: Mel Brooks’ film “Blazing Saddles” is the funniest movie of all time.

    The backstory: The pick may be contentious for some, but the 1974 film has been widely acclaimed for its raunchy and subversive humor in service of skewering racial prejudices.

    Why now? The American Film Institute says it’s bestowing this recognition in honor of Mel Brooks birthday. The director of comedy classics including Young Frankenstein, Robin Hood: Men in Tights and Spaceballs turns 100 today.

    The American Film Institute is out with this bold proclamation: Mel Brooks’ film Blazing Saddles is the funniest movie of all time.

    The pick may be contentious for some, but the 1974 film has been widely acclaimed for its raunchy and subversive humor in service of skewering racial prejudices.

    Younger viewers might be shocked at the number of racial slurs included in the film (by some counts there are dozens). According to NPR reporting, Brooks was concerned about the use of racial epithets in the film. But as NPR’s film critic Bob Mondello wrote in 2024, “... his co-screenwriter, Richard Pryor, insisted he use it — and use it often — consciously putting it [in] the mouths of evil or unthinking characters, so that star Cleavon Little could comically mock or demolish them.”

    The American Film Institute says it’s bestowing this recognition in honor of Mel Brooks' birthday. The director of comedy classics, including Young Frankenstein, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, and Spaceballs turns 100 today.

  • How a San Pedro neighborhood fell into the ocean
    A wide look at a cliffside with the blue Pacific ocean in the background. The cliff is filled with broken concrete, griffiti and palm trees. Two people are sitting on the edge.
    Sunken City, as seen here in 2014, is closed to the public, but that hasn't stopped people from sneaking in.

    Topline:

    If you go to San Pedro, there’s a bluff overlooking the ocean that’s full of torn-up terrain, graffiti and remnants of old homes. It’s part of the Point Fermin neighborhood, which partially collapsed into the sea almost 100 years ago.

    The backstory: In the 1920s, L.A. was on the cusp of a population boom. A developer built homes along the edge of Point Fermin because of its picturesque view of the Pacific Ocean. But the area proved to be unstable. For decades since 1929, the earth cracked, split and spread — destroying the community in the process.

    What happened? Experts who surveyed the slip determined that underground layers naturally sloped and were made up of weak sedimentary rocks. The situation forced many residents to move out of the area because homes were severely damaged.

    What’s it like now? Today, this section of Point Fermin is called Sunken City. It’s technically illegal to visit, but tourists and stoners still sneak through the gate to catch a view.

    Read on … to learn about how it could reopen soon.

    The Palos Verdes Peninsula has received a lot of attention in recent years because of accelerated land movement, but one landslide in the area has been a draw for decades because of its dystopian state with fractured streets.

    Nearly 100 years ago, residents of San Pedro’s Point Fermin neighborhood had a dream of living by the ocean, but the cliffs became their undoing. A landslide slowly ripped Point Fermin apart. This southernmost part of Los Angeles County was given a new nickname to fit its troubled state: Sunken City.

    Today, it’s full of torn-up terrain, graffiti and remnants of old homes, rising out of the ground like fossils. It’s still considered dangerous, but its mysterious remnants make for a compelling backdrop — you may have seen it in movies like the ash-spreading scene in The Big Lebowski. But soon, you could visit it too. The city of L.A. is working on reopening a section — possibly in the next year.

    How the landslide started

    Point Fermin is where you can get a spectacular view of the water. On a clear day, you can see down the Pacific Ocean as far as Catalina Island.

    That scenery is why people wanted to live on its bluff. In the 1920s, Los Angeles was on the cusp of a population boom, so naturally, building homes on the coastline made sense. Developer George Peck took that idea and built an upscale neighborhood with bungalows.

    A wide archival view of a large crowd of people standing on a hill overlooking a neighorhood full of homes. A cross with a wreath can be seen toward the right in the middle of the crowd.
    An Easter Sunday service on a Point Fermin hilltop, taken between 1920 and 1939.
    (
    Los Angeles Times Photographic Collection
    /
    UCLA Library Department of Special Collections
    )

    It lasted for a few years, but in the months leading up to January 1929, some strange coincidences began to happen. Pipes were breaking more than expected, but it wasn’t clear why.

    Then, a waterline broke under an inn and a crack appeared. At first, it was brushed off as a “simple landslide” with minimal danger, but it eventually became known as an uncontrollable “act of God.”

    The crack formed near the cliffside back around to Pacific Avenue and Paseo del Mar. Part of it even caved in, forming a deep, 10-foot-long hole in front of homes.

    F.L. Ransome, a geology professor at Caltech, reportedly told L.A.’s city engineer that land had slid up to 8 inches, ripping open utility pipes and pulling apart building foundations.

    He warned that the area was no longer suitable for large structures and that water in the area may accelerate the movement, producing “disastrous changes on the surface.”

    A black and white archival of a man in a suit standing in a large ditch between two sections of land. The foundation he's standing on is much lower than the two sides and you can see the rock layers and roots sticking out of them. Homes are in the background.
    A section of the Point Fermin landslide in 1932.
    (
    Joseph E. Carter/Dick Whittington Studio
    /
    USC Libraries Special Collections
    )

    At that point, the slide, which covered 5 acres, was mostly blamed on ground weakness and wave erosion. The city filled cracks as they happened and explored ways to protect the area, including with eminent domain. Property owners in 55 lots petitioned the city to buy them out.

    But by September, the situation became so risky that geologists recommended the area be condemned. L.A. officials told residents to leave or risk “their own peril.”

    A slow march to the sea

    For the next several years, Point Fermin was in limbo. The ground still moved but mostly at a snail’s pace. The keyword is mostly. The area was plagued by huge cracks that tore apart the once-thriving community — some 40 feet wide.

    Multiple incidents caused the landslide to move faster, including heavy rains. Numbers varied, but it was reported that the grounds shifted more than 30 feet seaward and 30 feet down by 1941.

    A black and white archival look at a large section of ground that's cracked off from the bluff. The debris clearly shows paved roads as two people stand on the edge looking over. They are much smaller compared to the size of the crack.
    Heavy rains loosened 200 tons of earth at Point Fermin in San Pedro, as shown Feb. 17, 1941.
    (
    Herald Examiner Collection
    /
    Los Angeles Public Library
    )

    This destroyed the area. The city demolished homes that were too damaged to live in, and others were relocated to other parts of L.A. Officials eventually bought up nearly all of the impacted land to turn it into a park. But with the heightened risk, much of the area was blocked off to the public for years.

    Around this period, landslides happened in other parts of the Palos Verdes Peninsula, like the Portuguese Bend. The issue became such a problem that insurance companies refused to insure L.A. homes for landslide damage.

    Then came the big drop. After a 5.0 earthquake in 1969, a new “mammoth, crescent-shaped fissure” appeared that damaged three homes along Paseo del Mar and dropped another 200 feet down into the rocks. Still, some residents refused to leave.

    “I’ve studied the trench and I’d be willing to bet the house never goes, even if the backyard did,” said resident Larry Penhall in 1970.

    In total, the slip eventually grew to 10.5 acres, according to a geological study in 1987, with 40,000 feet of that ending up in the Pacific Ocean. It took down at least two homes and a lot of infrastructure, including roads, utility pipes and rail lines.

    Sunken City today

    The peninsula is generally still prone to landslides, but the ground is more stable in Point Fermin, or what’s now called Sunken City. It wasn’t the most dangerous landslide we’ve ever seen — no one died at the time, but visitors have in the years since, those who’ve wandered too far toward the cliff edge. It’s become a local legend because of how it looks today.

    A satellite aerial view of the landslide area. The cliffside is visible from above, with a clear breakage on the edge. The inland area is flat and unbroken, and further in are homes and the neighborhood.
    An aerial view of Sunken City on Oct. 12, 2025.
    (
    Google Eath/Airbus
    )

    If you venture to Sunken City, there’s still a neighborhood nearby, but the landslide area itself is closed off. For those bold enough to sneak in, you risk getting caught for trespassing. Visitors have even had to be rescued over the years.

    The terrain resembles nothing of its affluent past, but that may change soon. Earlier this year, the City Council approved funding for environmental monitoring and safety upgrades for the upper area.

    Sophie Gilchrist, communications director for Councilmember Tim McOsker, said part of the plan includes the design of a new fence that requires coastal development permits.

    “While we don’t have a precise timeline for reopening, we have informed the local neighbors that it may take another full year,” she said. “The project is actively moving forward.”

  • Residents want answers after pair of incidents
    a man in a helmet walks past a lot of debris and fire equipment as hoses spray water
    Firefighters battle a blaze at a cold storage facility in the Boyle Heights neighborhood June 22. Authorities declared a state of emergency as the fire intensified, prompting evacuations in the surrounding area. The fire started June 17.

    Topline:

    After warehouse fires in both Garden Grove and Boyle Heights, records show state and local regulators knew the facilities; they had inspected them, approved plans, and resolved violations. How they used their authority is now a central question for neighbors in the surrounding areas seeking accountability.

    Why it matters: Companies face layers of federal and state oversight designed to help prevent hazardous chemicals from escaping into surrounding neighborhoods. But records show that these two facilities, one in Orange County and one in Los Angeles County, had accumulated violations over years and continued operating.

    What's next: Residents want accountability, but the legal bar to hold companies for environmental crimes is high. Criminal prosecution requires more than proving a rule was broken. Prosecutors need evidence of deliberate deceptions — falsifying reports, hiding violations, deceiving regulators.

    Read on ... for an in-depth look at the regulatory and legal challenges residents face in getting answers to the problems their neighborhoods face.

    Manuel Valle, 84, jumped on his bike and rode through his Boyle Heights neighborhood despite the protests from his worried children. The air was smoky, for the fifth day in a row; he pushed through fits of coughing to pass out 50 N95 masks to his neighbors.

    The same day, officials told residents the air was not dangerous and the smoke was clearing out. Valle didn’t agree.

    “This is a state emergency,” he said. “Treat it like a state emergency.”

    Fire had ignited at a facility, operated by the company Lineage, which stores food before it’s shipped off to restaurants and grocery stores. Lineage uses the toxic refrigerant anhydrous ammonia, which posed a health risk in the early hours of the fire.

    Weeks earlier and miles away, the Orange County Fire Authority issued an evacuation order affecting 50,000 Garden Grove residents when fire officials realized a tank at an aerospace manufacturing facility could either explode or leak large amounts of a toxic chemical into the air.

    In both cases, records show state and local regulators knew the facilities; they had inspected them, approved plans and resolved violations. How they used their authority is now a central question for neighbors in the surrounding areas seeking accountability.

    A lawmaker has proposed some reforms to chemical policy. But prosecuting companies for failing to follow environmental laws is difficult, and how far cities may go to protect residents isn’t clear.

    “I don’t know what the local government is waiting for — for a tragedy to occur or something more serious or what … on top of what is already going on,” said Miguel Ocegueda Castillo, who lives near the Lineage warehouse.

    a child wears a gas mask and leans up against a fence with some bushes and trees in the background
    A young boy watches firefighters battle a blaze at a cold storage facility in the Boyle Heights neighborhood June 22.
    (
    Ted Soqui
    /
    CalMatters
    )

    Years of oversight, unresolved risks

    Companies face layers of federal and state oversight designed to help prevent hazardous chemicals from escaping into surrounding neighborhoods. But records show that these two facilities, one in Orange County and one in Los Angeles County, had accumulated violations over years and continued operating.

    In 2021 the South Coast Air Quality Management District issued GKN Aerospace multiple notices of violation, including for failing to maintain the required emissions records and operating some equipment without proper permits. The company later signed a settlement with air regulators and paid more than $900,000 — without admitting liability.

    During the emergency, authorities gave residents conflicting information about whether the chemical methyl methacrylate had leaked.

    “When you go home, you can feel safe. There was no contamination. … There was no leak,” Regina Chinsio-Kwong, Orange County Public Health Officer told residents during one press briefing, even though early reports characterized the incident as a leak.

    Days later, Orange County health officials walked back that statement.

    In Boyle Heights, the Lineage facility stores more than 12,000 pounds of anhydrous ammonia, according to the Environmental Protection Agency. The chemical is a refrigerant that if inhaled, can cause severe eye and respiratory irritation, shortness of breath, nausea, vomiting and, at high concentrations, death.

    In the early hours of the fire June 17, the Los Angeles Fire Department told residents to shelter in place because of the risk of the chemical being released into the air. The order was lifted, and then imposed again.

    Lineage said in a statement that it “proactively took steps to pump out the ammonia and transport it offsite” and that no measurable ammonia concentrations had been recorded in the community since the fire began.

    Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass told residents the air was not dangerous. But on the sixth day of the fire, an air monitor detected a hazardous spike of air pollutants.

    Federal records show that the state Division of Occupational Safety and Health inspected Lineage in Boyle Heights the day the fire started. It wasn’t their first visit.

    In 2020, Cal OSHA opened an investigation into the facility for violations of multiple safety standards. After Lineage lodged an administrative appeal, regulators fined the company $2,250 for violations related to process safety and respiratory protection.

    Rebecca Liu Morales, a spokesperson for Lineage, said the company stores food, not hazardous materials, and said it was not responsible for the fire. She said the fire started when a contractor was working on the rooftop solar array, which provided power to the city.

    “The health and safety of our employees and the communities we serve is our top priority,” she added. “Our industry is heavily regulated and inspected, with over 200 routine regulatory inspections by various agencies conducted of our North American operations alone between 2024 and 2025.”

    The Los Angeles Fire Department is investigating the cause of the June 17 fire. The city department of Building and Safety is also investigating, and the workplace safety investigation remains open.

    Luck, rather than strong protections, has saved residents from catastrophe in both Orange and Los Angeles counties, said Jane Williams, executive director of California Communities Against Toxics.

    Industrial infrastructure has grown near residential communities, Williams said. But state and local oversight of hazardous substances has not kept up.

    “I don’t think anybody really thought: Wait, we have these warehouses, a warehouse here, a warehouse there, and what happens if there’s an earthquake and we lose containment at four anhydrous ammonia tanks in one square mile at the same time?” Williams said.

    Filling in regulatory gaps 

    Federal and California laws are designed to protect communities from accidental releases, when a spill or an explosion or a leak releases hazardous chemicals into air, soil or waterways.

    The federal Clean Air Act’s Risk Management Program requires companies handling dangerous chemicals in significant amounts to develop preventive and emergency plans for just these situations — and file those plans with regulators. California goes even further: Its risk management program sets stricter thresholds and more demanding requirements than federal law — meaning California law holds facilities to a higher standard, and state regulators have more tools and more authority to act than their federal counterparts.

    But critics say even California’s stronger standards have significant gaps that state officials have allowed to persist.

    Reactive chemicals, such as the methyl methacrylate stored at GKN, often fall outside of both the federal and state accidental release programs. In Garden Grove, regulators required no risk management plan.

    Anhydrous ammonia is a different story. It’s a listed chemical, one of the core hazards state and federal programs aim to regulate. Federal and state environmental protection officials confirmed Lineage in Boyle Heights is part of both programs.

    Local agencies called Certified Unified Program Agencies are the layer of oversight closest to the ground. In California, they’re responsible for knowing what hazardous chemicals companies store where, and in what quantities. Local agencies must inspect those facilities regularly and keep emergency plans on file, so that a fire department showing up to a warehouse blaze should already know what’s inside.

    Neither local agency has fully disclosed its oversight of these facilities. In Los Angeles, the Los Angeles Fire Department did not answer questions about its oversight of Lineage Logistics, despite repeated requests by CalMatters.

    In Garden Grove, records obtained by CalMatters reveal that the Orange County Healthcare Agency has inspected GKN more than a dozen times over the last decade and issued violations related to hazardous waste regulations that were later corrected. The facility had emergency plans that were approved in May, weeks before the incident, records show.

    State Sen. Tom Umberg, a Democrat whose district includes Garden Grove, introduced Senate Bill 883 in the weeks after the GKN episode. It would require the state Office of Emergency Services to maintain a statewide inventory of facilities storing reactive chemicals, add methyl methacrylate to the state’s risk management program, require CalEnviroScreen tool to track facilities that pose an explosion risk and update current environmental review law to ensure that storage sites that have a risk of explosion aren’t exempt from review.

    “We must learn from this incident, address the gaps it exposed, and take steps to ensure it never happens again,” Umberg said, in a statement announcing the legislation.

    The bill is moving through Assembly policy committees.

    The GKN emergency prompted a federal response. The Federal Bureau of Investigation searched the facility on June 10 — but experts say determining whether anyone committed a crime is often difficult after an industrial accident.

    smoke spreads across a charred landscape as the sun sets behind a distant cityscape.
    An aerial view of downtown Los Angeles with smoke from the smoldering storage facility in Boyle Heights on June 22.
    (
    Ted Soqui
    /
    CalMatters
    )

    Legal remedies are a challenge

    Residents want accountability, but the legal bar to hold companies for environmental crimes is high.

    Criminal prosecution requires more than proving a rule was broken. Prosecutors need evidence of deliberate deceptions — falsifying reports, hiding violations, deceiving regulators.

    The federal government goes after “those that are lying, cheating and stealing,” said Ethan Ware, an attorney who represents companies investigated for environmental crimes. “There’s more to it than just the environmental violation. There’s some effort to deceive, or to hide, or to get enriched by lying on documents.”

    That bar gets even higher when no specific rule is broken — when prosecutors argue a company has a general duty to keep people safe. “What the government is saying is you have complied with all of these hundreds and thousands of regulatory requirements, but we still think you pose a risk to the community,” Ware said. “That’s a hard sell to a jury, to a judge, to anybody.”

    A federal criminal investigation into an industrial accident is unusual — and the Garden Grove investigation may not lead to charges. The broader federal enforcement landscape has also changed.

    A 2026 report by the Environmental Integrity Project found that the number of civil lawsuits filed by the U.S. Department of Justice in cases referred by the EPA dropped to just 16 in President Donald Trump’s first year in office — 76% less than in the first year of the Biden administration. Only 12% of facilities with air pollution violations received any kind of enforcement action from EPA or state agencies in the last year.

    That federal shift matters for Lineage, which has faced at least three civil enforcement actions in recent years, but none that resulted in criminal charges.

    Last year, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration fined the company $37,500 for three violations at a Riverside facility, two related to its handling of hazardous materials and emergency plans.

    Also last year, the company paid $3,420 to settle alleged violations at a Vernon facility, including that the company didn’t correct a critical safety system deficiency it identified during a 2021 audit.

    In 2023, the EPA fined Lineage more than $172,000 for alleged violations of the federal Risk Management Program at an Iowa facility. The EPA said in a news release that the company “failed to correctly document the worst-case scenario in its risk analysis, failed to comply with accidental release prevention requirements, and failed to document emergency response coordination with local authorities.”

    In 2024, a Lineage warehouse in Washington burned for 60 days. Hundreds of neighbors to the warehouse reported health problems, and some residents filed civil claims. But the company has not faced criminal charges.

    The limits of local power  

    Weeks after an evacuation sent tens of thousands of people from their homes in Garden Grove, GKN Aerospace came to a City Council meeting. The company had not spoken publicly since the evacuation.

    Resident Rodrigo Garay held up a thin red cross blanket.

    “This is what I used for the whole week to sleep on,” he said/ “And I’m sure that you slept on really nice beds with your $260,000-a-year salary.”

    He and other residents wanted to know why the city wasn’t doing more to ban GKN and other facilities like it from their city.

    Miles away in Boyle Heights, Lineage neighbors are also raising concerns about their schools, homes and playgrounds being so close to warehouses and other industrial facilities.

    “We shouldn’t wait until after this disaster for Boyle Heights residents to know what was in the facility in their backyard,” said local City Council member Ysabel Jurado.

    The frustration in both cities points to a hard truth. The people with the most immediate stake, both residents and city officials, may have the least power after a facility is already operating.

    mist and spray surrounds a pair of large metal tanks flanked by piping and scaffolding.
    Water is sprayed on a tank that overheated at GKN Aerospace in Garden Grove on May 22.
    (
    Ethan Swope
    /
    AP
    )

    City officials can update their general plans and rezone property to keep facilities they consider a threat to public health and safety away from their residents.

    But the Constitution limits how far that authority extends to facilities that are already there. Businesses have a general right to not be over-regulated out of existence, said David Waite, an attorney who specializes in local land use law.

    “Where it gets tricky is we have existing uses — such as the GKN facility — that were duly permitted and duly authorized under the existing zoning on that property,” Waite said. “That rezoning effort cannot just simply bar that existing use without running afoul of constitutional takings arguments.”

    Cities can try revoking a facility’s permit by proving it is a public nuisance. But that requires showing an ongoing threat, not a one-time event, Waite said.

    Garden Grove and Boyle Heights are largely communities of color. Garden Grove ranks among the top 20% of the state’s most environmentally burdened communities, according to CalEnviroScreen; Boyle Heights is in the top 10%.

    In Garden Grove, the city’s response has been cautious.

    Garden Grove spokesperson Johnathan Garcia said the city is “exploring with its attorneys and engaging in the deliberative process regarding its options in consideration of its authority under the constitution, federal and state laws.”

    “What is the point of bemoaning that you don’t have more local control if you don’t use the authority you do have in times like this?” Mai Nguyen Do, a research and policy manager for the Harbor Institute for Immigrant and Economic Justice, asked the council.

    In Los Angeles, Jurado is calling for an investigation into what went wrong at the Lineage facility and introduced a package of motions, including calls for a public report on the cause of the fire and the facility’s compliance history, increased public transportation service in the area to reduce the amount of time residents are outdoors and funding for neighborhood councils to distribute air purifiers and other protective equipment.

    “When a major industrial fire happens here, it’s not viewed as an isolated incident. Residents see it as part of a larger pattern,” Jurado said. “That’s why I have said from the beginning that this is not just a fire response issue. It’s a public health issue, it’s an accountability issue, and it’s an environmental justice issue.”

    This story was produced in collaboration with Boyle Heights Beat, a founding community newsroom of The LA Local, a nonprofit covering Los Angeles communities.

    Laura Anaya-Morga, Isaac Ceja, Claudia Koerner, Alejandra Molina, Isaiah Murtaugh, Jessica Perez, Steve Saldivar and Nathan Solis contributed to this story.

    Alejandro Lazo contributed to this story.