The Brief

A Frontier Airlines plane bound for Los Angeles on Friday night struck and killed a pedestrian who was crossing the runway, according to Denver International Airport.

The collision happened around 11:19 p.m. local time as the aircraft prepared to take off to California.

"Smoke was reported in the cabin and the pilots aborted takeoff," Frontier said in a statement.

"Passengers were then safely evacuated via slides as a matter of precaution."

The airline said it was "deeply saddened" by the event.

ABC News reported that the person struck was "at least partially consumed" by one of the craft's engines, leading to a brief fire.

Denver International said the person was not believed to have been an onsite worker.

"DEN can confirm the pedestrian jumped the perimeter fence and was hit just two minutes later while crossing the runway," the airport said in a statement.

"The pedestrian is deceased, and is not believed to be an employee of the airport nor have they been identified. The airport has examined the fenceline and found it to be intact."

The airport said 12 people reported minor injuries, with five of those individuals taken to local hospitals for treatment.

The Airbus A321 was at the time carrying 224 passengers and seven crew members. Airport authorities said the majority of those passengers have since taken off for Los Angeles on a new Frontier flight.
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They would walk every Friday evening from one public housing project to another, chanting, “Paz, queremos paz y libertad en nuestro barrio!” — peace, we want peace and freedom in our neighborhood — inviting their neighbors to join them along the way. 

For the mothers of Pico Gardens and Aliso Village, a pair of housing projects in Boyle Heights, the peace walks in the 1980s and 1990s were an act of protest and survival. 

Violence had become a fact of daily life. Middle school students were joining gangs. Shootings happened in the morning and at night. Father Greg Boyle of Dolores Mission Catholic Church later recalled burying eight kids in a three-week period in 1988. About nine gangs were active near the parish.

The women decided there was no other choice but to face the violence head-on. 

“We wanted peace,” Leticia Galvan, now 74, told Boyle Heights Beat. “We wanted to spread a message to the youngsters to be united, to not fight, to respect themselves and the people.”

They would walk every Friday evening from one public housing project to another, chanting, “Paz, queremos paz y libertad en nuestro barrio!” — peace, we want peace and freedom in our neighborhood — inviting their neighbors to join them along the way.

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Courtesy Proyecto Pastoral

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Reproduced by Laura Anaya-Morga/Boyle Heights Beat

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Rooted in Dolores Mission’s Christian Base Communities, the women organized weekly peace walks at the height of gang violence in Boyle Heights. They held candles and prayed their rosaries as they walked with each other and their children. Formally, they were known as Comité Pro Paz en el Barrio (Committee for Peace in the Neighborhood). They sought to end the violence and demand respect for one another. 

Their activism helped shape the foundation for Boyle’s anti-gang work, which later developed into Homeboy Industries, the largest gang-intervention and rehabilitation program in the world. Four decades later, these mothers find it crucial to continue talking about those violent years in Boyle Heights as a reminder of how far they’ve come and how hard they fought to get here. 

Some of the women from Aliso Village affectionately called themselves La UVA, or Union de Viejas Arguenderas — the Old Gossips Union. 

“Éramos la pandilla de La UVA,” Galvan joked. “Nuestros hijos decían, ‘Vámonos, llegó La UVA.” 

Though years have passed, many of the women remember the violence of those days as if it were yesterday. 

They would walk every Friday evening from one public housing project to another, chanting, “Paz, queremos paz y libertad en nuestro barrio!” — peace, we want peace and freedom in our neighborhood — inviting their neighbors to join them along the way.

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Raquel Norris

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Boyle Heights Beat

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Amada Holguin, now 86, a mother of seven, recalled being caught in the middle of gunfire between two rival gangs after stepping out of the bus on 4th Street more than 30 years ago. “No había dado ni cuatro pasos cuando empezó la balacera,” Holguin said. I hadn’t even taken four steps when the shootout began.

Holguin, who took part in the peace walks, said a young man shielded her face with his jacket and rushed her into a nearby house as gunshots flew past her from all sides. Inside, she stood in shock in a stranger’s living room, eating bread to calm her nerves.

Although traumatic, Holguin now laughs about the shooting, remembering how Dolores Mission parishioners prayed for her that night, mistakenly believing she had been killed. 

“Por la gracia de Dios a mi no me pasó nada,” she said. 

Galvan, a mother of two daughters, also faced violent encounters herself.

On one occasion, she remembered fighting back when she was being robbed. Galvan said she kicked the perpetrator and yelled at him until he left her alone.

“Tenias que estar a la defensiva,” Galvan said. “Nunca pensé yo en (que me mataran).” (You had to be on the defense. I never thought I would be killed.)

Galvan said much of their courage was inspired by Father Boyle. “El Padre Gregorio nos enseñó mucho valor,” Galvan said. (He taught us great courage.)

In an interview with Boyle Heights Beat, Boyle recalled the Thanksgiving dinners the women would host for gang members in the neighborhood. 

“They didn’t want to demonize gang members,” Boyle said. 

“The dinner said, ‘You’re not the enemy. You’re our sons, whether we brought you into the world or not.’ It was very beautiful,” Boyle said.

They would walk every Friday evening from one public housing project to another, chanting, “Paz, queremos paz y libertad en nuestro barrio!” — peace, we want peace and freedom in our neighborhood — inviting their neighbors to join them along the way.

(

Courtesy Proyecto Pastoral

/

Reproduced by Laura Anaya-Morga/Boyle Heights Beat

)

Life may have been chaotic outside, but the mothers said enforcing household rules went a long way. 

That meant forbidding their kids from wearing Nikes because “the cholos wore them,” or barring their children from being outside past a certain time, even if others their age were out past midnight.

“We raised our children here, but there were rules,” said Maria Flores, now 73, a mother of three, who enforced a strict curfew and participated in the peace walks. 

Flores and her husband required their children to eat meals together as a family. They also ensured their daughter and two sons kept up with household chores. Each had to take turns washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen.

“These chores were important because it taught them to be self-reliant,” Flores said. 

To Flores, running a strict household is what helped steer her children away from gangs. 

“They would have become cholos if I allowed them to come home at all hours of the night,” she said.

In 1986, Boyle and parishioners at Dolores Mission founded Proyecto Pastoral in response to the poverty and gang violence around them. Now, the organization focuses on community-building and social justice.

They would walk every Friday evening from one public housing project to another, chanting, “Paz, queremos paz y libertad en nuestro barrio!” — peace, we want peace and freedom in our neighborhood — inviting their neighbors to join them along the way.

(

Laura Anaya-Morga

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Boyle Heights Beat

)

Angela Gutierrez, 58, a community organizing coordinator at Proyecto Pastoral, was part of the peace walks as a young mother living in Boyle Heights. She continues to find strength and inspiration from the activism of the women she saw as motherly figures. 

“Many people don’t know everything we endured. But we lived here. We know,” Gutierrez said. “… As I always say, the women fought and continue to fight against these injustices.”

That fighting spirit remains alive even if gang violence is not what it was before, Gutierrez said. While quality of life in Boyle Heights may have improved, Gutierrez said there is still a lot to do when it comes to pedestrian safety, street cleanliness and homelessness. 

Now, it’s about advocating through forums with community members and local politicians, Gutierrez said. 

Mothers and grandmothers continue to help lead those efforts.

Just recently, Proyecto Pastoral hosted a community meeting informing residents and business owners about a proposed Business Improvement District in Boyle Heights. They also held a forum for candidates seeking to replace Sen. Maria Elena Durazo in California’s 26th Senate District.

“This is the work we need to continue doing,” Gutierrez said.

Metro L.A. moves a lot of people every day through more than 100 miles of rail and a service area for buses of more than 1,000 square miles. With all that space and all those people, some things are bound to get left behind.

So, where do they go? They end up at Metro’s Lost & Found.

Where lost items go 

The tan-and-concrete building on Pasadena Avenue across from the A Line’s Heritage Square station in Cypress Park looks like any old warehouse. But a peek behind the curtain reveals a treasure trove of forgotten — and sometimes, curious — things.

A table full of some items from inside the Metro Lost & Found warehouse.

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Dañiel Martinez

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LAist

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“ We've seen prosthetic legs,  we've gotten dentures come through here,” said Brian Ledeay, a customer service agent at Metro Lost & Found. “We've gotten a lot of luggage, to be honest. A lot of really nice luggage comes through here.”

And the volume of lost items has been increasing with the growth of Metro's bus and rail lines.

“We now process about 1,200 items a month, which equals about 15,000 items a year,” Patrick Diaz, Metro’s Lost & Found manager, said.

Patrick Diaz, manager of the Metro Lost & Found.

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Dañiel Martinez

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LAist

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The Lost & Found is busiest in the summer, when tourism picks up. During the World Cup in June and July, Diaz expects even more riders — and agency is adding staffing in response.

“We’re gonna have people stationed throughout our system, providing general information, not just on our transit system, but on our Lost & Found as well,” Diaz said.

The Heritage Square A-Line station across from the Metro Lost & Found.

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Dañiel Martinez

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LAist

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It’s a process

Found items first make their way to smaller Lost & Founds at divisions — the terminals where bus and rail lines begin and end. There are 18 divisions across L.A. County.

Divisions must log and process these items within three to five business days. From there they are brought to the main Lost & Found on Pasadena Avenue.

The door to the central Lost & Found warehouse.

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Dañiel Martinez

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LAist

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Items get processed inside the main warehouse, along with shelves upon shelves of things people left behind. (I tried, but Metro said no photos of the warehouse’s interior.)

Those looking for a lost item must first fill out a form providing basic information, including what was lost, when, and where. If an item is found, staff will notify you via phone or email. At pickup, you are asked for specific information about the misplaced items for verification.

“Cell phones often have a pin, so we ask for their pin to open it. We're always looking for some type of verification,” Ledeay said.

Lost forever?

Ledeay’s worked at the Metro Lost & Found for nine years, and he’s seen a lot of stuff come through. Some of the most common are electronics like flat-screen TVs or video game consoles, but there’s also the more off-kilter.

“We have an about three foot replica of the Eiffel Tower that somebody left behind,” Diaz said. “That's been here for a while.”

A three-foot Eiffel Tower, saxophone, wallet and other items on display in the Metro Lost & Found Lobby.

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Dañiel Martinez

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LAist

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Only about 20% to 30% of items are returned to their owners, the agency said.

After 90 days, unclaimed items are cleared of any identifying information and go to a third-party auction.

The exception is bicycles. Those are sent to a warehouse near Union Station because of the volume. Bicycles in the best condition become a part of Metro’s Adopt A Bike program where they’re redistributed to community organizations that then hand them out to the public.

A display bike in the Metro Lost & Found.

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Dañiel Martinez

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LAist

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Reunited and it feels so good

Luis Sanchez has worked as a customer service agent for a couple of years. His most memorable encounters include a man looking for his dentures.

His favorite items to return are musical instruments — be it to students or to professional musicians, their reactions are the same.

“They're ecstatic about it, which is nice, you know, makes me proud to work here,” Sanchez said.

Luis Sanchez carrying a display surfboard back into the Lost & Found warehouse.

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Dañiel Martinez

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LAist

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For Ledeay it’s been a similar experience. Recently, a woman came in to ask about the five wooden recorders she had lost on the Metro. The recorders hadn’t been logged at the station yet, but he could tell how much they meant to her.

“So I just called down to the divisions to see if they had it, they did. And so they sent it over,” Ledeay said.

For employees at the Lost & Found, these moments are what the job's all about.

“It's a joy to watch them light up. And see all the pleasure that they experience,” Ledeay said.

When you sit down to fill out your mail-in ballot for the June 2 primary election (we have a guide for that, have you heard?), you may notice something curious on your ballot envelope.

There are holes in it. Two small holes next to the signature line, and one on the other side.

What’s the deal?

This is a question an LAist reader asked our Voter Game Plan team:

It turns out the envelope holes have two functions. For one, the holes next to the signature line are supposed to help visually impaired people find the signature line so that they can sign their ballot in private before submitting it.

And two: When election workers start processing the ballots to be counted, the holes help them confirm that the envelopes don’t still have ballots left inside.

These holes have been part of the envelope design for many election cycles now — according to the L.A. County registrar’s office, they were included based on a recommendation from the nonprofit Center for Civic Design.

Rest assured, they are not meant for anybody to be able to see your votes inside. Even if you try to make your vote visible, the holes just don’t line up.

Don’t forget to check out our Voter Game Plan guides while you’re filling out your ballot.