The Brief

Jets are blazing across the sky in and around Huntington Beach on the first day of the Pacific Airshow that starts Friday and continues over this weekend.

In recent years, more than half a million visitors have come out to watch eye-and-ear popping aerial demonstrations from the U.S. Air Force Thunderbirds and other renowned daredevils.

The event has also become a political lightning rod in the increasingly fractious beach city.

Why opinions are divided

Some say the airshow promoter got a suspiciously sweet deal in a recent legal settlement with the city. Others say Huntington Beach should support the airshow, and its hometown promoter, in any way it can.

At issue are questions of political quid pro quo, transparency and how cities determine whether and how much to support special events put on by private companies.

The backstory

Fans watch the 2021 Pacific Airshow in Huntington Beach.

(

Michael Heiman

/

Getty Images

)

Here’s a guide to what happened, why this matters for residents and what’s to come.

First the shorthand timeline:

• In October 2021, the city canceled the final day of the three-day airshow after oil began gushing from an underwater pipeline and moving toward the Huntington Beach shoreline. 

• A year later, in October 2022, airshow organizer Kevin Elliott sued the city, saying the previous year's cancellation amounted to a breach of contract. Elliott also supported the election of new city council members who promised to support the airshow. 

• Then, earlier this year, that new city council majority approved a minimum $5.4 million settlement with Elliott plus a potential additional $2 million if the city recoups money from the companies responsible for the oil spill. 

About Huntington Beach politics

The strong and distinct reactions to the deal from residents and officials in this city of 200,000 residents illustrate intensifying political divisions. While Huntington Beach is traditionally conservative, the electorate had been trending more purple in recent years. Then, in November, voters handed a solid victory to four ardently conservative candidates.

Huntington Beach Mayor Tony Strickland, a Republican former state legislator who ran Larry Elder's 2020 presidential campaign, said the settlement was good for the city.

"Anything that brings in $70 million to our local economy, that's worth it," Strickland said, referring to an economic impact report on the 2022 airshow.

On the other side, City Councilmember Dan Kalmick, one of three Democrats on the council, said Huntington Beach taxpayers got a "horrible deal." He and the other two Democrats on the council voted against the airshow settlement.

"The settlement, as publicized, goes well beyond any exposure the city had for cancellation of one day of an airshow, which it didn't even do," Kalmick said. He said multiple authorities — state, federal and local — agreed the airshow had to be canceled so that monitoring and clean-up crews could get to work.

Kevin Elliott, organizer of the Pacific Airshow and CEO of event company Code Four.

(

Courtesy of Kevin Elliott

/

LAist

)

What the airshow organizer says

Elliott, for his part, says he regrets that the airshow has gotten wrapped up in local politics. (We should note that after we published this story, it was announced that former President Donald Trump would do a flyover as part of Friday’s airshow lineup. Trump is on his way to the California Republican Party convention in Anaheim.)

Elliot told us that, at heart, he's a "plane brain" who's especially excited this year to watch the F-22 Raptor do "things that an airplane shouldn't do, including flying backwards and all kinds of really cool stuff."

"I just want to put on a great event and I want to go back to running my business and having a good time," he told LAist. "And staying out of the newspaper. That would be my goal."

The start of the problems: The oil spill

On Friday, Oct. 1, 2021 coastal authorities got a call reporting an oil sheen off the coast of Huntington Beach. Amplify Energy, ultimately responsible for the spill, later said it found out Saturday morning about the pipeline leak from one of its offshore oil platforms.

A worker with Patriot Environmental Services stands near bags of oil collected throughout Sunday morning near the mouth of the Santa Ana River and Talbert Marsh.

(

Jill Replogle

/

LAist

)

That same Saturday, the Pacific Airshow went on, as planned as local officials tried to understand the extent of the oil spill and whether and when it might reach shore. By afternoon, boaters watching the airshow from the ocean began reporting oil in the water.

City and state parks authorities closed the water at many of the area beaches to swimming and surfing.

That evening, then-Huntington Beach Mayor Kim Carr appeared at a news conference with the city's marine safety chief, Eric McCoy, and several other officials. Carr said a decision about whether to cancel the third and final day of the airshow would be made the following morning.

At the time, the leak was estimated to be around 126,000 gallons of oil, which McCoy said was considered a major spill by the U.S. Coast Guard. Later estimates revised that down to a much smaller amount, around 25,000 gallons.

On Sunday morning, Oct. 3, 2021, the city announced that the airshow was canceled "in order to facilitate clean-up coordination efforts, and given the potential health impacts from the ongoing situation."

Beaches were closed and remediation workers were dispatched to mop up the oil that had already washed up on the shore and into several sensitive wetland areas. The coast reeked of petroleum.

A sign keeps beachgoers off the sand.

(

Jill Replogle

/

LAist

)

Impact of the 2021 cancellation

The airshow cancellation was devastating for Elliott. "It was probably one of the worst days of my professional life," Elliott said. "What we had put together in 2021 was essentially the Super Bowl of air shows."

Plus, the previous year, 2020, the entire airshow had been canceled because of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Elliott, who also runs an event company called Code Four, said he lost "in the multi-millions" the day of the oil spill. "We put over $750,000 worth of catering in the trash," he said.

It was also upsetting for patrons, some of whom had spent hundreds or thousands of dollars on premium tickets for the last day of the show.

The airshow is free to watch from part of the city beach and nearby state beaches. But Elliott also sells tickets, for example, for seating on the Huntington Beach pier or for a private cabana on the beach. This year, prices range from $25 to more than $5,000 for a group.

Elliott said he eventually reimbursed everyone who had bought tickets "out of my own pocket."

The legal battle that followed

The following year, 2022, Elliott asked the city to give him a break on some of the fees and other expenses involved with putting on the airshow — as the city had in previous years. Specifically, the city had previously credited Elliott up to $110,000 in parking revenue generated over the airshow weekend toward his bill for permits, reserved parking, and extra public safety staff needed for the event.

Elliott's city bill for the 2022 airshow, according to a presentation at the time, was expected to be around $257,000.

This time, though, Elliott made a last-minute request that all of the city's parking revenue generated by the airshow be credited toward his bill, with no cap.

The city council at the time denied his request by a vote of 6 to 1 and decided to revoke the parking credit completely. City officials and staff at the time noted that Huntington Beach didn't grant this kind of credit to the organizers of any other big events in the city, including the U.S. Open of Surfing, which has drawn crowds similar in size to the airshow, although over a longer period of time.

Former Councilmember Mike Posey told LAist the parking "subsidy … was always supposed to be temporary" until Elliott could attract a corporate sponsor for the airshow. A smaller, previous iteration of the airshow, before Elliott took it over, was sponsored by Swiss watchmaker Breitling.

But Elliott saw the city's decision to revoke the parking subsidy as the latest in a series of efforts, starting with the 2021 post-oil spill cancellation, to shut the airshow down.

The following month, Elliott sued the city and then-Mayor Carr.

In his complaint, he alleged the 2021 cancellation amounted to a breach of contract and damaged the airshow's reputation. He also claimed that subsequent actions taken by Carr and the city, including removing the parking subsidy, were retaliation for Elliott raising concerns about the cancellation.

Elliott told LAist he felt slighted after investing heavily in the airshow to try and make it profitable and to bring tourism benefits to the city.

"I wish that the city had come forth and said, 'Hey, you've been a great partner to the city, you're a local kid … we understand that you've been damaged by this and we want to try to do the right thing.' But instead they basically told me to pound sand and left me with no choice but to protect my interests."

Initially, the city tried to get the lawsuit dismissed, claiming it had no factual basis. But then it seemed to do an abrupt about-face, settling with Elliott for at least $5.4 million, to be paid out incrementally through January 2029. What changed?

How the air show became a hot-button campaign issue

A seat on the Huntington Beach city council is generally considered a non-partisan position — a candidate's political party is not listed on the ballot. But Huntington Beach had traditionally had a conservative-leaning council. That changed after the 2020 election, but not the way you might think.

Tito Ortiz, a mixed martial arts fighter and staunch conservative, won a seat on the council in 2020 and then resigned six months later. In his place, the council appointed left-leaning attorney Rhonda Bolton, giving Huntington Beach's city government a majority Democrat block.

They passed pro-housing measures and voted to fly the Pride flag outside city hall every June — with the support of the council's moderate Republicans. A backlash ensued.

A group of residents attempted to recall six of the seven council members in 2021. But the effort failed to make it to the ballot. They set their sights on the 2022 general election.

The Lincoln Club and several other conservative political action committees coalesced around a slate of four conservative council candidates — Strickland, Casey McKeon, Pat Burns and Gracey Van Der Mark — dubbed by supporters the "Fab 4," plus city attorney Michael Gates, who was running for re-election. (Huntington Beach is one of the few cities in California where voters elect their city attorney.)

They paid for mailers and signs saying the candidates would "save" Huntington Beach — and "save" the airshow.

On Oct. 27, 2022, the candidates held a "victory rally" at the Huntington Beach pier. Elliott's company, Code Four, provided the sound and some of the signage for the rally, he said.

Elliott said the work was "pretty simple" and cost him less than the $1,089 that the four city council candidates claimed as in-kind contributions in campaign finance disclosures.

Elliott did not donate money directly to any of the four council candidates or city attorney Gates. (His company Code Four did give money, the maximum $4,900 allowed, to the 2022 winning campaigns of state Republican state legislators Diane Dixon and Janet Nguyen.)

"Franky, I supported them as much as I could without creating any kind of a conflict of interest for them," Elliott said of the council candidates. "Because, you know, they campaigned on saving the air show and I've invested millions and millions of dollars in saving this air show for the city, so our interests were pretty aligned in that regard."

But looking back — post-election and post-airshow settlement — some political opponents and civic watchdogs see the rally and Elliott's work on it as part of a suspicious pattern.

"I have substantial questions about the relationship between the four newly elected council members, the city attorney and Elliott," said Kalmick, one of the liberal council members.

Kalmick also pointed to several photos from the 2022 airshow posted to Facebook showing Elliott and his wife posing on the beach with the "Fab 4" candidates. (Elliott said he regularly invites candidates, council members and many others to the show, "Democrats, Republicans, my mom's friends, you know, my friends that were my teachers in the first grade.")

All four council candidates and city attorney Gates won their election in November.

The settlement and concerns about quid pro quo

In March 2023, Gates, the city attorney, filed a request in Orange County Superior Court to have Elliott's airshow cancellation lawsuit dismissed. Gates and deputy city attorney Lauren Rose argued that the city was "legally permitted to cancel the Airshow due to unforeseen circumstances rendering performance impossible due to health and safety reasons."

They also said this about Elliott's claim that revoking the parking subsidy was retaliation: "it is speculative and unsubstantiated how this was in any way connected to [Elliott's] negative comments regarding the City's reaction to the unexpected and disastrous oil spill."

But less than two months later, Gates, Elliott, Strickland and two of the other conservative council members held a news conference announcing a settlement. "Ladies and gentlemen, we saved the airshow," Strickland said to applause.

"The previous city council was not business-friendly and not airshow-friendly," he went on. "The Fab 4 …saved the airshow by putting the hard work and leadership required to solve this conflict."

In dollars, what they put in is $4,999,999 of city funds spread out over seven years, with the first payment of $1,999,000 due before July 31.

The city also agreed to:

• Forfeit $194,945 in fees still owed by Elliott for the 2021 airshow.
• Refund him $149,200 from the 2022 airshow, when the city council declined to give him the parking subsidy. 
• Reinstate the parking subsidy, starting at a minimum, rather than maximum, of $110,000. Plus, waive parking fees for up to 600 spaces for airshow setup and takedown.
• Pay Elliott up to an additional $2 million of any money the city recovers from the oil companies responsible for the 2021 spill. 

Those are the details in the settlement summary released to the public. Gates has declined to make the full settlement public, raising questions about what else the city may have agreed to.

A legal push for more transparency

Gina Clayton-Tarvin, a local school board member and former city council candidate, has sued Gates under state public records law in an effort to get the full settlement released.

Gates told LAist earlier this year that he hasn't released the full settlement agreement because there's still pending litigation in the airshow saga and doing so could compromise the city's position in that litigation. "But if a judge were to order the release of [the settlement], I'm happy to release it," Gates said.

Both sides of the settlement say it was a tough negotiation and neither side got everything they wanted. "We get a lot more as a city than we're giving out," Strickland said. "It's not even a close call."

Earlier this year, a former Huntington Beach mayor and a former planning commissioner tried to intervene to halt the settlement agreement. Thus far, they haven't been successful, although Lee Fink, a lawyer working with them, has said they haven't given up.

At the same time, Elliott hasn't dropped his lawsuit against former Mayor Carr for her role in canceling the 2021 airshow. In his complaint, he said Carr "unilaterally" canceled the airshow because of her personal feelings towards Elliott, and in order to garner media attention to “further her own political career.”

Carr told LAist earlier this year that the claim was bogus. "He's created a completely fantastic tale of somehow I unilaterally canceled the air show," she said. "As the mayor of Huntington Beach, you do not have the authority to issue permits, consequently, you don't have the authority to cancel permits."

She said she didn't understand why the city would offer millions to settle what she called "an easily dismissible lawsuit." Then she corrected herself.

"Well, I do understand why the new council majority would settle. I mean, [Elliott] is their friend, their ally," Carr said. "To me, it smacks of corruption, definitely feels like a pay to play."

What about the oil company responsible for the spill that caused the 2021 airshow to be canceled? Amplify Energy recently settled a $45 million class action lawsuit with impacted businesses and property owners.

Elliott's company was not part of that settlement, but he said he's been "in very intensive pre-litigation settlement discussions" with the company.

The city of Huntington Beach also plans to pursue money from Amplify. How much could come back to city coffers after the Pacific Airshow gets its $2 million cut is unknown.

Fink, the lawyer, said his clients would likely be enjoying the airshow this weekend. "No one’s against the Airshow," he wrote in an email. "The Airshow will go on regardless of the litigation. But people are against a $7 Million giveaway to a political supporter under the guise of a settlement agreement in a frivolous case."

Tricia McLaughlin, the assistant secretary for public affairs at the Department of Homeland Security, is leaving the agency, the department confirmed on Tuesday.

McLaughlin has become the public face and voice defending the Trump administration's mass deportation policy and immigration tactics over the past year.

"McLaughlin started planning to leave in December but pushed back her departure amid the aftermath of the shootings of U.S. citizens Renee Good and Alex Pretti by federal immigration officers, according to the people briefed on her exit," DHS said in a statement to NPR.

POLITICO first reported her departure. It is not clear where she is going next, or who will become the agency's next spokesperson.

McLaughlin's exit comes at a tumultuous time for the agency. DHS is currently shut down after lawmakers failed to pass a budget to fund it through the end of the fiscal year in September.

And high-ranking immigration officials, including DHS Secretary Kristi Noem, have been summoned to Capitol Hill to testify on the immigration crackdown after immigration agents shot and killed Good and Pretti in Minneapolis.

McLaughlin has been among the most public-facing agency spokespeople, participating in several network interviews. Beyond speaking on DHS' immigration initiatives, McLaughlin also fielded interviews and questions about Noem's handling of national disaster relief and resources, and other parts of the sprawling agency.

Noem praised McLaughlin's work in a statement online, saying she "served with exceptional dedication, tenacity, and professionalism."

"While we are sad to see her leave, we are grateful for her service and wish Tricia nothing but success," she wrote on the social platform X.

Immigration has been the largest part of McLaughlin's portfolio. She often took to network shows and to social media to promote immigration arrests made by the administration, defend actions by DHS agents, and encouraged immigrants to "self-deport."

House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries praised news of her departure online; "Another MAGA extremist forced out of DHS. Noem next," he posted on X.

Most recently, McLaughlin defended Noem's description of Pretti as a "domestic terrorist" after Customs and Border Protection officers shot and killed him — claims that eventually drew sharp scrutiny from lawmakers, including some Republicans.

"Initial statements were made after reports from CBP on the ground. It was a very chaotic scene," McLaughlin told Fox Business late last month. "The early statements that were released were based on the chaotic scene on the ground and we really need to have true, accurate information to come to light."

During last week's congressional hearings, the heads of Customs and Border Protection and Immigration and Customs Enforcement both denied that they, or anyone under their chains of command, had given Noem information to substantiate that claim that Pretti was a domestic terrorist.

An NPR analysis published in January showed that DHS has made unproven or incorrect claims on social media or in press releases when describing immigrants targeted for deportation or U.S. citizens arrested during protests.

Copyright 2026 NPR

In my time going to shows in and around L.A., I’ve seen DJ sets all over — in parks, backyards, Thai restaurants, quinceañera venues, plus a few other spots I’m not going to blow up here.

But despite being a big Brian Eno fan, seeing a show at an airport was completely new for me, even though LAX puts on concerts and DJ sets about once every couple weeks as part of their “LAX Presents” performance series.

So when the opportunity arose for me to check out Purelink, one of my favorite current electronica and techno groups, I had to jump on it. If nothing else, I had to see whether it’s worth booking my flights around the free concerts at the airport next time the stars align.

About the show

Purelink’s set was in the West Gates at LAX’s Terminal B, which opened in 2021. It’s a cavernous space with a great view of the airfield, not to mention cozy couches, lots of natural light and high ceilings.

It was a great backdrop for Purelink’s set, which was a mix of spaced-out, ambient versions of their own tracks — which are already pretty spaced-out — plus edits and remixes of other artists that fit the vibe. For Purelink’s members, airports go hand-in-hand with their style of music.

“Sometimes it comes up where you get on a plane and you're kind of thinking about your life in a different way,  just because of either traveling to a new place, or you're going to see someone and it can conjure up different types of emotions,” Purelink member Jon Paulson said. “Our music is kind of catered towards those times anyways,  in my mind, and what we try to conjure up with our songs: memory, and looking back while also looking forward.”

Purelink’s Akeem Asani said it was a challenge to rearrange the music they’ve been playing on their tour before their last two shows at LAX on Feb. 11 and 12.

“Each different venue we've had kind of has a different context of how it's gonna sound and how we want to deliver that specific song in that setting,” Asani said. “This is the most unique setting, and it's been fun to really strip back a lot of the songs that we've been playing and hearing in a different context.”

Visitors catching Purelink's at Terminal B's West Gates set got to see this fluorescent sculpture, an installation that's also part of LAX's arts program.

(

Kevin Tidmarsh/LAist

)

What it’s like to play there

Paulson said that although the group was coming off of a tour where they were playing nightclubs, not airport terminals, they stripped their set back to be friendlier to LAX travelers who didn’t buy tickets to see them.

“ I think it's rare for any airport to have any sort of art focus, so it's cool that they're offering that,” Paulson said.

Asani said the group will play any venue at least once — in fact, the West Gates reminded him of the churches they’ve played even though in other ways the setting was “the opposite” of a place of worship.

“People are eating Burger King — a Whopper and some ambient, I guess they go together, huh?” he joked.

After playing LAX, Asani said that if anyone wants to book Purelink for an airport tour, they’re down.

“ We're already going to airports all the time, so might as well just do a show while we're there,” he said.

About the program

The show is part of a series of concerts at LAX’s terminals run in conjunction with the bookers Rum & Humble and Dublab — Dublab booked Purelink to play there.

These are the shows (past and future) scheduled at LAX through June 2026.

(

Kevin Tidmarsh/LAist

)

“The reason we added the performing arts program was we definitely wanted to create a more serene, calm, relaxed environment, because the airport can be a hectic, busy place, but also music can create a very welcoming space as well,” said Sarah Cifarelli, the director of LAX’s art program.

The program also features large works of public art (think the pylons) and smaller installations sprinkled throughout the terminals. It’s all with the goal of representing L.A. and making the airport experience more hospitable.

“ We've had people who are like, ‘Oh my gosh, I had a really long layover and suddenly seeing this performance just really kind of turned my day around,’” Cifarelli said.

And though Purelink’s show was calm and blissed out, the airport hosts all kinds of shows across its terminals.

 ”We're really looking for a variety of artists and musicians, so it’s not just one genre of music,” Cifarelli said. “We want to be able to present a really nice array of performers to really reflect the cultural richness of Los Angeles.”

Since California made it easier for sexual abuse survivors to sue government agencies, victims have brought forth more than $3 billion in claims. But even agencies that haven’t been sued are facing financial hardship as a result of the law — through skyrocketing insurance premiums.

School districts, counties and other public agencies in every corner of California have seen their liability insurance premiums soar, in large part because of that law, which passed in 2019. Some districts have seen their yearly insurance costs jump by $1 million or more.

To pay the premiums, schools have had to leave teacher vacancies unfilled, scrap renovation projects and make other cuts that affect students. Counties have cut back on public safety, roads, health care and social services.

“It’s become unmanageable,” said Dorothy Johnson, a legislative advocate for the Association of California School Administrators. “We desperately need guardrails, or the situation will become very dire.”

School districts and other public agencies are begging the Legislature to intervene by capping the settlements, similar to the way medical malpractice settlements are capped. That could also include capping attorney fees, which can top 40%.

The agencies don’t have traditional private insurance. Some larger ones are self-insured, but most belong to risk pools made up of a few dozen other agencies. So when one agency faces a large settlement, premiums increase for everyone.

At schools, the law has had a direct impact on student learning, according to research by the California Association of Joint Powers Authorities, which represents public agency risk pools.

A year after the average school district paid a settlement of $1 million or more, the number of its students who met the state’s math standard fell by 3.7 percentage points, and the number of students meeting the reading standard dropped by 3.4 percentage points, according to the group’s research. The reason, the study states, is that those schools had to cut back on tutoring, after-school programs, field trips and other offerings aimed at helping students stay engaged in school.

Those numbers are a contrast to statewide scores, which have been generally rising since the pandemic ended.

“Classrooms are being impacted because there’s money being pulled out of the education system,” said Faith Borges, legislative advocate for the California Association of Joint Powers Authorities. “I don’t think that there’s an understanding that these really, truly are taxpayer dollars. We need to have an informed conversation about where this money is coming from.”

There’s no end in sight. The law allows survivors to sue within five years of remembering they were abused, in perpetuity.

Public agencies rarely contest plaintiffs’ claims. The main reason is the horrific nature of the incidents; agencies generally believe victims should be compensated. Another reason is the lack of evidence, particularly for cases more than 20 or 30 years old. In those cases, the perpetrator and other school staff are often long gone or even dead, and schools typically don’t have paperwork dating back that long. They often don’t even know who their insurance carrier was.

Taxpayer-funded insurance

For most public agencies, the size of the settlements is the primary problem. Many exceed $10 million. Los Angeles Unified, the state’s largest district, recently issued $500 million in bonds to settle cases. Los Angeles County agreed to pay $4 billion to settle more the 6,800 claims. The settlements are paid by taxpayers through a combination of the agency’s general fund dollars, reserves and insurance.

The law that lowered obstacles for sexual abuse survivors to sue, AB 218, was intended to bring a degree of justice to sexual abuse victims. In some cases, school staff had been abusing students for years, even after administrators learned it was happening. Incidents range from inappropriate comments to rape. A 2004 report by the U.S. Department of Education estimated that 1 in 10 students nationwide had endured misconduct by school staff.

To bring further accountability to schools, California passed another bill in October that requires schools to train staff and students on preventing sexual misconduct. The law, SB 848, also mandates that the state create a database of school employees that have been credibly accused of abuse, in an effort to keep abusers from getting rehired elsewhere and continuing to harm children.

‘Doing the best we can’

Sierra Sands Unified is a medium-sized district in Ridgecrest, in the high desert about two hours east of Bakersfield. It’s in a remote and harsh environment: Summer months exceed 100 degrees most days, and winter temperatures often drop below freezing. Rain is rare, and dust storms are frequent.

Those conditions take a toll on school facilities. The relentless sun degrades anything outdoors, including ground cover and play equipment. Maintenance staff remove pieces of monkey bars and slides as they become damaged, leaving “ever-shrinking” play equipment on hard-packed dirt, said Superintendent April Moore.

The district planned to replace its elementary school play structures last year, but had to cut back that plan because of soaring insurance premiums. In the past three years, the district’s yearly total insurance costs have gone up $500,000 a year, to nearly $1.2 million annually. The district’s annual budget is $80 million, nearly 90% of which goes toward salaries. That doesn’t leave much extra to pay for things like repairs.

As a result, the district was only able to replace two of the seven elementary school play structures. It also had to limit raises for staff, which Moore fears will hamper the district’s ability to attract and retain teachers — already a tough proposition in such a remote area.

The cuts have been hard on morale for the entire community, Moore said.

“I don’t want our staff to feel like they’ve settled by staying here, or they’re stuck. I want them to feel valued and respected,” Moore said. “In our remote area, our students and staff and families are all one. For me, this is all one conversation. Everyone is affected.”

Moore said she often worries about the future. The district’s insurance premiums are certain to continue increasing, which makes it hard to plan.

“We’re having to budget for these unknowns. … Sometimes I feel helpless,” Moore said. “And it’s affecting the kids of today.”

Striking a balance?

Schools and other public agencies have pushed to reform the laws governing sexual abuse suits. So far, they haven’t gotten anywhere.

A bill last year by Sen. John Laird, a Democrat from Santa Cruz, would have reined in the settlements by creating a statute of limitations, but the bill died amid vehement opposition from trial attorneys.

Assembly Speaker Robert Rivas, a Democrat, has asked several legislators to “explore solutions that strike the right balance on this critical issue: ensuring meaningful access to justice for all survivors, while safeguarding schools and cities from financial consequences that could lead to lost or reduced services,” according to Rivas’ spokesman, Nick Miller.

“(Rivas) has a long history of defending and supporting survivors, and has consistently been a steadfast advocate for survivors of childhood sexual assault,” Miller said. “We will closely review any proposals brought forward this legislative year.”

Trial attorneys have been aggressive in defending AB 218. Last year, when legislators were considering limits to the law, an Orange County law firm bought social media ads featuring a large photo of Rivas with the words, “STOP the Predator Protection Law. Stand with Child Victims.” The bill died.

John Manly, a partner at the firm that purchased the ads, said he doesn’t plan to back down.

“What kind of idiot politician is going to put up a bill that protects people like Epstein? It’s radioactive,” Manly said. “Any attempt to limit these lawsuits is a cynical, disgusting, wrong-headed attempt to keep the public from knowing the full extent of this problem.”

Manly’s firm has represented thousands of victims who say they were abused in California public schools, he said. He believes schools’ claims of financial hardship are “a scam,” and politicians who seek to cap settlements are essentially enabling child predators.

“Kids who’ve been abused take a hit for life. And we’re going to cap settlements? Any politician who tries to do that we’re going to chase to the ends of the earth,” Manly said.

‘No voice, no power’

Nancy, a woman who sued Los Angeles Unified in 2020 after she said she was abused in middle and high school, said money was not her primary motivation for filing a claim. It was more about empowerment and seeking changes in the system, she said.

“I felt I had no voice, no power,” said Nancy, who asked that her last name not be used to protect her privacy. “I want to see policies change. Unfortunately, money gets people’s attention.”

Nancy was in middle school in the early 1990s when her math teacher began paying her compliments such as “You’re attractive, intellectually and physically,” and “I like you,” Nancy said. The attention made her feel special, and soon she had developed a friendship with him. By the end of the school year it had become physical, she said.

In her junior year of high school, a music teacher took a similar interest in her. Because of her previous experience, she was especially vulnerable to his attention, she said.

She told almost no one about either experience and put it out of her mind for years. In her 30s, she began talking about it with a therapist, and spent years trying to overcome the shame and guilt she felt, she said. Eventually, she felt confident enough to file a police report. A year later, she filed a civil lawsuit against the school district.

In all, Los Angeles Unified has faced about 370 abuse claims since AB 218 passed. Nancy’s former math and music teachers are no longer employed by the district, she said.

“I hope everyone knows that behind every payout is a person, someone who was harmed as a child,” said Nancy, who now works as a special education teacher. “There’s a soul behind every story.”

Hardships for counties

In Napa, insurance premiums are expected to climb to $20 million annually in the next few years, said the county’s chief executive officer, Ryan Alsop. Wildfires and other factors have also led to the increase, but abuse claims have also been a significant factor, Alsop said. The county will have to find room in its $400 million general fund to pay it, likely cutting more services.

There’s an extra concern, he said, because President Donald Trump’s cuts to Medicaid and food assistance will soon put new demands on counties to cover the gaps. Statewide, counties will have to come up with an extra $9.5 billion a year to make up for federal funding shortfalls, according to the California State Association of Counties.

“It’s a real problem, not just for Napa but for all counties,” Alsop said. “Obviously victims deserve justice, but the effects of AB 218 are real.”

The use of a federal Immigration and Customs Enforcement program that deputizes local police for immigration enforcement has dramatically expanded under President Donald Trump's second term in office.

The rapid expansion of the 287(g) program marks one of the most visible shifts in President Trump's second-term immigration strategy.

On Trump's first day he signed the executive order, "Protecting the American People from Invasion," which called on the DHS secretary to maximize the use of 287(g) agreements and to structure them "in the manner that provides the most effective model for enforcing Federal immigration laws."

The results have been swift.

In 2019, during Trump's first term, just 45 of these 287(g) agreements were signed, available data shows. As of Feb. 13, ICE reported 1,412 active agreements across 40 states and territories — more than 1,130 of them signed in 2025 alone.

(DHS did not provide data prior to 2019 or between 2020 and 2025. NPR has submitted a Freedom of Information Act request for this information).

Gauging the effectiveness of 287(g) programs

The program, established in 1996, allows state and local law enforcement officers to act as immigration enforcement agents. That means questioning, investigating, and in some cases arresting people for civil immigration violations – authority traditionally reserved for federal officers.

The program existed under previous Democratic and Republican administrations, but never to the extent that the Trump administration is using it now, immigration experts and people who worked during previous presidential administrations tell NPR.

The White House is using 287(g) agreements as "a tailor-made tool" for the Trump administration's mass deportation agenda, said Doris Meissner, who led the Immigration and Naturalization Service (the agency that predated DHS, ICE and Customs and Border Patrol) under President Bill Clinton.

"There has never been the kind of whole-government mobilizing around immigration that we're currently seeing," Meissner said. Trump's approach is "putting 287(g) agreements on steroids," she added.

How effective it's been is another question.

In a response to NPR's questions, DHS Assistant Secretary for Public Affairs Tricia McLaughlin said that these partnerships serve as critical resources to "arrest criminal illegal aliens across the country" and make the U.S. safer.

However, available data is hard to parse and it's unclear what arrests, detentions or deportations can be credited to this program.

DHS said there were more than 675,000 deportations as of January 2026 in Trump's first year back in office because of the administration's crackdown on immigration.

The Trump administration believes these partnerships are fruitful, with DHS pointing to operations in Florida, where Gov. Ron DeSantis has effectively required local law enforcement to sign 287(g) agreements with ICE, which netted 40,000 arrests. And in West Virginia, more than 650 "illegal aliens" were arrested over a two-week operation, according to McLaughlin.

How does the program work?

There are three main 287(g) models:

• The jail enforcement model: Every person that comes into a local jail, with criminal convictions or pending charges, will be checked for whether or not they have legal status in the United States. If they are found to be in the country illegally, ICE will be notified and they will be held in jail, pending ICE removal. 
• The warrant service officer model: Similar to the jail enforcement model, where local police are trained to serve and execute administrative warrants on migrants in their local jails. 
• The task force model: Officers can stop, question and make arrests for immigration violations. DHS says an officer, "with approval from an ICE supervisor, conducts an ICE arrest for immigration violations and transfers the alien to an approved location."
  

(There's a fourth model: The tribal task force, but there is no recorded agreement signed and recorded in available ICE data.)

Task force models make up the majority of 287(g) agreements in place, according to ICE data. DHS describes it as giving officers "limited authority to enforce immigration laws during their routine police duties throughout their local communities in a non-custodial environment with ICE supervision."

Local police agencies sign a memorandum of agreement with ICE and nominate officers to participate in the program who then get training by ICE.

DHS told NPR that training for the task force model consists of 40 hours of education on topics that include immigration law, ICE's Use of Force policy, civil rights law, alien detention and public outreach. In the past, it took about a month of training for local cops to be certified.

Critics have long warned that these deals drain local resources and heighten the risk of racial profiling and civil rights violations by pulling ill-equipped local police into complex immigration law.

Annie Lai, an immigration law professor at University of California Irvine says, "The potential for civil rights violations is acute," including for racial profiling. It also leaves cities and towns exposed to costly legal battles.

Lai was involved in a major civil rights lawsuit against Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio filed in 2007, while Bush was still president, over a pattern of unlawful practices by the sheriff and his agency during immigration sweeps and traffic stops, which occurred while the agency was involved in a 287(g) partnership with ICE. Litigation against Arpaio has cost local taxpayers millions. 

There have been a number of lawsuits over the years filed by people detained in local jails under this program – some for longer than they should have been incarcerated while awaiting ICE agents, NPR has previously reported.

McLaughlin, the DHS spokesperson, rejected these criticisms: "Allegations that 287(g) agreements with local law enforcement encourage 'racial profiling' are disgusting and categorically FALSE. Our 287(g) partners work with us to enforce federal immigration law without fear, favor, or prejudice, and they should be commended for doing so."

To incentivize cooperation, ICE is offering full reimbursements for participating agencies for the annual salary and benefits of each eligible trained 287(g) officer, including overtime coverage up to 25% of the officer's annual salary. Funding for these costs was made possible through Trump's Big Beautiful Bill.

Law enforcement agencies will also be eligible for quarterly monetary performance awards "based on the successful location of illegal aliens provided by ICE and overall assistance to further ICE's mission," DHS said.

Performance goals for participating agencies have not been made clear– an issue the Government Accountability Office (GAO) highlighted in two separate reports from 2009 and 2021.

The GAO said the 287(g) program could use better oversight. Recommendations from the 2021 report that called on the director of ICE to create those performance metrics had yet to be met as of 2025.

How previous administrations used 287(g)

While its dramatic expansion is new, the 287(g) dates back nearly 30 years to the 1996 Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act (IIRIRA).

DHS didn't respond to NPR's request for data on the number of 287(g) agreements signed with local law enforcement under the administrations of Presidents Joe Biden, Barack Obama, George H. W. Bush or Bill Clinton.

However, those who worked under these administrations say 287(g) agreements were narrowly used and never reached the level under Trump's current administration.

The original goal of the 1996 law, enacted during the "tough on crime" era, was to help federal authorities identify and remove dangerous criminals, according to John Torres, who worked in immigration enforcement for close to 30 years – first under President Ronald Reagan, eventually moving up the ranks under subsequent administrations, including a stint as acting director of ICE during the transition from President George W. Bush to President Obama.

Meissner, who led the INS under President Clinton, said the White House initially opposed the 287(g) provision because immigration enforcement had long been considered exclusively a federal responsibility. Delegating that authority to state and local police "was not something that was in the playbook," she said.

But the administration ultimately did not block it after hearing from communities grappling with deadly human smuggling cases that local law enforcement struggled to address, Meissner explained to NPR.

Clinton left office in January 2001 and, as far as Meissner recalls, no 287(g) agreements were ever signed. She said local leaders expressed concerns over the potential cost to local taxpayers and the legal liability for small police offices.

September 11th, and the Bush administration, changed everything.

By the mid-2000s, the Bush White House prioritized jail enforcement and task force models of 287(g), Torres recalled.

"We signed a lot of agreements under President Bush," he said.

Under Obama's presidency, more people were deported than any other president in U.S. history and the jail enforcement model was an important aspect to that work, according to John Sandweg, who worked at DHS under Obama.

The Obama administration, for a time, used 287(g) to go after people convicted of serious crimes, but found these partnerships did not help all that much, according to Sandweg.

But by 2012, the Obama administration suspended all 287(g) task force models, following documented civil rights abuses like the cases involving Arpaio's Maricopa County Sheriff's Office in Arizona.

"Maybe once in a blue moon you come across someone with a serious criminal history," he explained. "But by and large, what you were getting were individuals who are just undocumented, and maybe they're pulled over for different reasons."

The program was underutilized, but left largely intact under the Biden administration, despite campaign promises to end 287(g) agreements and much to the chagrin of civil rights groups such as the ACLU.

U.S. President Donald Trump delivers remarks during a meeting in the Oval Office of the White House on Nov. 21, 2025.

(

Andrew Harnik/Getty Images

/

Getty Images North America

)

How President Trump is using them

Simon Hankinson, a senior research fellow in the Border Security and Immigration Center at The Heritage Foundation, says concerns over civil rights violations under 287(g) are overblown.

"I honestly don't think that the lawsuits and the activism is driven by facts on the ground. It's driven by ideology," he said, referring to protests against the program and local police involvement in immigration enforcement.

"I'm not saying that there has never been an instance of an officer from DHS or law enforcement doing something they shouldn't. It happens, but it's pretty rare," he added.

The 287(g) program offers an important tool for communities deep in the U.S., away from the border, where enforcement "is much more complicated," Hankinson said. That's where "the Trump administration has been battling uphill against severe headwinds," he said.

The Trump administration touts 287(g) as a way to go after violent criminals in the U.S. illegally.

With that goal in mind, Sandweg said "expanding the 287(g) program makes tremendous sense for [the Trump administration], in that it's a force multiplier, and it increases the number of people who are legally capable of arresting undocumented immigrants dramatically."

McLaughlin, the DHS spokesperson, maintains that "ICE is targeting criminal illegal aliens including murderers, rapists, pedophiles, gang members and more. Nearly 70% of ICE arrests are of illegal aliens charged or convicted of a crime in the U.S."

But the Trump administration has been criticized for arresting U.S. citizens and legal permanent residents and sometimes keeping them incarcerated for days. Records show that many of the people being caught in Trump's enforcement dragnet have no criminal record.

Even as the Trump administration moves to expand 287(g), some states are pushing back.

Earlier this month, Virginia Gov. Abigail Spanberger issued an executive order terminating 287(g) agreements between ICE and state agencies, which included the Virginia Department of Corrections.

In Maryland, a bill that could end these partnerships was headed to Gov. Wes Moore's desk, as of Monday afternoon. That bill would prevent state agencies and employees from entering into 287(g) agreements and would end all existing deals by July.

Under the second Trump administration, partnerships between ICE and local law enforcement agencies that delegate immigration enforcement authority to local officers has expanded widely.
Copyright 2026 NPR