Editor’s note: The below article first appeared in David Corn’s newsletter, Our Land. The newsletter comes out twice a week (most of the time) and provides behind-the-scenes stories and articles about politics, media, and culture. Subscribing costs just $5 a month—but you can sign up for a free 30-day trial of Our Land here.

Sometimes I’d rather not be right. In January, reacting to Donald Trump affectionately referring to the trio of tyrants Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping, and Kim Jong Un as “very fine people,” I wrote that two constants in the Trump Era are his affection for murderous authoritarians and Russian efforts to screw with American politics. The former is well-known, the latter, less recognized. Moscow mounted information warfare operations to boost Trump during both the 2016 election—most notably, the hack-and-leak attack in which Russian cyber-operatives swiped Democratic emails and documents and WikiLeaks released them—and the 2020 election, when Russian intelligence operatives spread disinformation about Joe and Hunter Biden and Ukraine. The first op helped the Putin-friendly Trump reach the White House; the second failed to keep him in office, but it had the side-benefit of fueling the House Republicans’ baseless (and now fizzling) impeachment crusade against President Biden. Putin went one for two.

I noted in that Our Land issue: “[I]t’s a good bet that Putin this year will try once again to mess in an American election…[As Putin] continues to commit horrendous war crimes in Ukraine, he has even more reason to clandestinely boost Trump and win the rubber match.” At long last, official warnings have arrived.

Two weeks ago, Avril Haines, the director of national intelligence, testified to the Senate Intelligence Committee that Russia remains “the most active foreign threat to our elections.” She noted that the Kremlin’s “goals in such influence operations tend to include eroding trust in US democratic institutions, exacerbating sociopolitical divisions in the United States, and degrading Western support to Ukraine.” All of this, obviously, would be to Trump’s benefit. She pointed out that artificial intelligence and deepfakes will presumably be deployed in this effort, and she cited China and Iran as other threats.

This story was originally published by the Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

Donald Trump was continuing to ask fossil-fuel executives to fund his presidential campaign on Wednesday, despite scrutiny of his relationship with the industry.

The former president attended a fundraising luncheon at Houston’s Post Oak hotel hosted by three Big Oil executives.

The invitation-only meeting comes a day after the defense rested its case in Trump’s criminal hush-money trial, and a week after Houston was battered by deadly storms. The climate crisis, caused primarily by the burning of fossil fuels, has created the conditions for more frequent and severe rainfall and flooding, including in Texas.

Opening statements in the trial of exiled Chinese mogul Guo Wengui are expected Friday with the selection of an anonymous jury consuming the first few days of the proceeding.

US District Court Judge Analisa Torres on Thursday told potential jurors their names would be kept private “to protect all of you from any unwanted attention.” She did not mention that she decided last month to anonymize them due to Guo’s past efforts to disrupt legal proceedings by dispatching his followers to protest outside the homes of legal adversaries and members of their families.

Guo, a former real estate developer once reportedly among China’s richest people, fled to the US in 2015. From a Manhattan penthouse that he bought for more than $67 million, with a reference letter from Tony Blair, he built a sprawling group of organizations he said aimed at deposing China’s Communist Party rulers, and gained a devoted following of tens of thousands of Chinese émigrés. With Steve Bannon, he founded the “New Federal State of China” which claims to be government-in-waiting set to take over governance in Beijing.

Guo has pleaded not guilty to 12 charges, including securities fraud, wire fraud, unlawful monetary transactions and conspiracy, including conspiracy to launder money. Though it is not among the charges against him, prosecutors argued last month that Guo also has used supporters to harass and threaten critics.

Moms for Liberty is on a mission.

The conservative “parents’ rights” group will spend more than $3 million on ads in swing states ahead of the election, according to a Wednesday report in the Associated Press.

Known for stirring the panic about pronoun usage in schools and pioneering book bans across the country, Moms for Liberty plans to target voters in the battleground states of Arizona, Georgia, North Carolina, and Wisconsin. They hope to expand to Michigan, Nevada, and Pennsylvania later this year, according to the AP.

Tina Descovich, one of the co-founders of Moms for Liberty, said that their goal is to “activate” their members who do not vote. The group doesn’t endorse specific presidential candidates, but their preferences—for electing right-wing representatives—are clear: The latest ad campaign, the AP reports, will attack President Biden for his recently-enacted Title IX rules that extend safeguards to LGBTQ students.

Israel on Saturday ordered hundreds of thousands in Rafah to evacuate immediately as Israeli military forces prepared to expand further into Gaza’s southernmost city amid a devastating humanitarian crisis. The warning, which arrived in the form of dropped leaflets, came despite a rare threat from President Biden this week that he would withhold certain weapons if Israel advanced further into Rafah. 

At least 300,000 people affected as further areas across #GazaStrip receive new evacuation orders today, both towards central #Rafah in the south AND #Jabalia in north #Gaza@UNRWA estimates 150,000 people have now fled #Rafah since Monday, looking for safety where there's none. pic.twitter.com/9UNfo6b0rW

— UNRWA (@UNRWA) May 11, 2024

More than half of Gaza’s population have fled to Rafah since the start of Israel’s military operations in the north, pushing the densely populated city, which also serves as a critical passageway for transporting aid into Gaza, to a “breaking point.” Now facing an imminent ground invasion, as well as vows by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to fight “with our fingernails” if the US follows through on its threat to cut off certain weapons, displaced Palestinians are forced to flee once again. To where, it’s exceedingly unclear, as Gaza’s north has already been decimated by months of bombing.

“The bombing and shelling is incessant,” Bridget Rochios, a certified nurse-midwife from California volunteering at Rafah’s last maternity hospital, told Mother Jones this week. “And there’s nowhere else to go.” Rochios described scenes of horror where basic medical supplies such as gloves and scissors are nearly gone; doctors are forced to use razors to remove umbilical cords; and the lives of 50 newborns in the intensive care unit hang in the balance.

It seems like such a simple idea: a day to honor the women who bring life into the world. But  how do we square the ideal of celebrating and supporting mothers with the reality of how lawmakers and courts have acted to undermine maternal health and rights in the post-Dobbs era? Or make sense of all the money Americans spend annually on this one day—a purported $33.5 billion in 2024, according to the National Federation of Retailers, including $7 billion on jewelry and $3.2 billion on flowers—when so many mothers can’t afford food, housing, or health care? 

Anna Jarvis, who launched the Mother’s Day movement in 1908 in honor of her own remarkable mother, would have had very complicated feelings about what the day has become, says Katharine Lane Antolini, associate professor of American history at West Virginia Wesleyan College and author of Memorializing Motherhood: Anna Jarvis and the Struggle for Control of Mother’s Day. Jarvis’s vision was childlike in its sentimentality, Antolini says: “To her, this was supposed to be the one day out of the year when you were just grateful for your mother.” But there was nothing sentimental about the way she fought to preserve that vision, whether she was battling the floral industry, Big Candy, or well-intentioned maternal health charities and the powerful people who supported them. I spoke with Antolini from her campus office in Buckhannon, West Virginia, about 40 minutes from the International Mother’s Day Shrine and Jarvis’s childhood home.

How did the idea of a day to honor mothers become such a focus of Anna Jarvis’ life?

The story of Mother’s Day really goes back to her mother, Ann Reeves Jarvis, who was a well-known social activist and community organizer during her time. They lived in the part of Virginia that split off during the Civil War to become West Virginia, part of the Union. Mrs. Jarvis had 13 children, only four of whom lived to adulthood. Anna, who was born in 1864, was the oldest surviving daughter. She never married or had children. She was never a mother herself. And that, I think, is an important part of her story.

In the 1850s, before Anna was born, it was very common for mothers in this part of Appalachia to die in childbirth and for babies to die. Poor sanitation was a major cause of death. Mrs. Jarvis organized what she called Mothers’ Day Work Clubs, where women would come together to educate themselves on issues of sanitation: what to do with sewage, where to put your outhouse so it wouldn’t contaminate your water supply or the milk from your cows. If there was a mini epidemic, they would help quarantine a family, bring them food, and help care for the sick. Mrs. Jarvis believed in a proactive kind of motherhood—in the book, I refer to it as “social motherhood,” where being a mother does not just mean taking care of your own children. You are caring for your community of children. By the time of the Civil War, these clubs were so well known that, according to local legend, a Union colonel asked Mrs. Jarvis if she could help the Union camps stop the outbreaks of disease that were killing so many soldiers. So, according to the story, Mrs. Jarvis organized mothers to help care for and stop the spread of diseases in the camps. 

Steve Bannon’s odds of going to prison ticked up on Friday when DC’s Circuit Court of Appeals rejected an appeal of his 2022 conviction for contempt of Congress. But more than 18 months after a federal district court judge sentenced the former Donald Trump adviser to four months behind bars for blowing off subpoenas from the House’s January 6 committee, Bannon has not yet exhausted his legal options. 

The “War Room” host can still ask the full bench of the DC Circuit to consider his appeal, or petition the Supreme Court. Those are long shots, but a DC Circuit panel said its ruling will not take effect until a week after any further appeals are resolved. That could buy Bannon some time. He also benefits from a ruling by US District Judge Carl Nichols, who, even as he handed Bannon a stiff sentence, agreed to postpone his prison term while Bannon appealed.

Former White House adviser Peter Navarro, by contrast, is serving a four-month sentence imposed in January by US District Court Judge Amit Mehta, after Mehta declined to let Navarro remain free while he appealed. 

Bannon’s continued freedom—much like the delays in Trump’s federal prosecutions caused by the Supreme Court and the rulings of an inept Trump-appointed judge in Florida—is a frustrating reminder that the justice system often functions slowly, or not at all, for rich and politically connected defendants. The Trump and Bannon prosecutions are linked, because Bannon is doubtless trying to stave off imprisonment in the hope that Trump, who pardoned him in another case in 2021, will do so again if reelected. The Washington Post reported that Bannon’s “vociferous support” for Trump’s election fraud lies helped secure the earlier pardon. 

But Bannon, like Trump, has additional legal problems, including some that no president can fix. He faces fraud, money laundering, and conspiracy charges in New York related to the same scheme—which involved raising private funds to build a wall along the US-Mexico border—for which federal prosecutors indicted him in 2020. That case is before Juan Merchan, the same judge overseeing Trump’s ongoing trial for falsifying financial records to hide his alleged payoffs to porn star Stormy Daniels. 

Editor’s note: The below article first appeared in David Corn’s newsletter, Our Land. The newsletter comes out twice a week (most of the time) and provides behind-the-scenes stories and articles about politics, media, and culture. Subscribing costs just $5 a month—but you can sign up for a free 30-day trial of Our Land here.

For four decades, I’ve had a recurring nightmare in which a nuclear blast occurs. The scenario is not always the same. Occasionally, the detonation is an escalation in an ongoing conventional war. More often, it’s a bolt out of the blue: I and others are on the street, and we spot incoming missiles and have but a moment to realize what is about to transpire before the warheads explode.

These dreams began, not surprisingly, when I was a reporter-editor in the 1980s for a now-defunct publication that covered arms control issues. After several years in the job, I found the task of constantly thinking about nuclear warfare psychologically burdensome and moved on—though I have dutifully maintained an interest in the subject. During my stint at that magazine, I met victims of the nuclear era, including downwinders (people suffering severe medical ailments due to exposure to radioactive contamination and nuclear fallout from nuclear tests) and survivors of the US nuclear attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki at the end of World War II. Their tales were haunting and cautionary, descriptions of the past and foretellings of a possible and awful future. Given all this, when I visited Japan as a tourist last month, I felt compelled to go to the first of the only two cities that have experienced nuclear devastation.

Hiroshima is a wonderment. At 8:15 a.m. on August 6, 1945, on the orders of President Harry Truman, an American B-29 dropped a bomb that contained 141 pounds of uranium-235 over the center of the city. Hiroshima had been selected as a target by a committee comprising military officials and scientists from the Manhattan Project because it was an industrial center and home to a major military command—and its surrounding hills, according to the committee, would likely “produce a focusing effect which would considerably increase the blast damage.” The bomb detonated about 1,900 feet above ground. The blast leveled a 4.5-square-mile area and set off a firestorm that spread throughout the city. Tens of thousands of civilians were incinerated or injured that day. An estimated total of 140,000 Hiroshima residents were killed by the bombing or the ensuing radioactive fallout over the next few months. Many more died in succeeding years.

Today, 79 years later, Hiroshima, founded as a castle town in 1589, is a thriving city of 1 million people that boasts an active port and assorted industrial facilities and that is renowned for its delicious oysters. After the bombing, experts proclaimed that nothing would grow for at least 75 years in the wasteland created. Yet today the main avenue that leads to the blast site—Peace Boulevard—is lined with large leafy trees that were donated to Hiroshima from cities across Japan. And Peace Memorial Park, located where the bomb fell, is lush with flora. On the day I visited, it was full of life and people: families, tourists, young couples, street performers. It is a testament to resilience. What was once a hellscape is now a lovely spot where one can watch a Japanese troupe performing traditional Hawaiian dances alongside the Motoyasu River and eat takeout sushi beneath the iconic Atomic Bomb Dome, the only structure that was left standing in the blast zone. It was hard to reconcile the utter pleasantness of this Saturday morning with the horrific destruction that had occurred here merely a single lifetime ago.

At the hush-money trial of former President Donald Trump in Manhattan, Stormy Daniels’ story is, in a sense, a proxy battle for the actual debate about bookkeeping: If you believe Daniels’ accounting of the affair she alleges they had, then you must find Trump—who denies any such encounter—unbelievable. If you don’t believe Daniels, then it becomes much easier to accept the defense narrative that this is all one big con.

The sexual encounter that Daniels described in precise and disturbing detail under oath this week is technically irrelevant to the questions at hand. But she is the hook for the story that no one can ignore. And with no television cameras allowed inside, people will go to great lengths to hear her out. In the courthouse, I met a man who’d shown up at 3:30 a.m. just to snag a seat in the overflow room. “It’s Stormy,” he explained. He didn’t need to say anything else.

Daniels is the star. So at Thursday’s cross-examination, the defense set out to destroy her. Susan Necheles, who is also representing Trump in two federal cases, handled the task. She spent a long time trying to get Daniels to say that her motivation for telling her story publicly was born from personal malice toward the president because of political beliefs, and a desire to make as much money as she could. Daniels’ various money-making ventures during the Trump years, we heard, included a role on the reality TV show Surreal Life and a national tour in which she appeared at strip clubs, which Necheles insisted on calling the “Making America Horny Again” tour as many times as possible. (Daniels insisted that wasn’t her slogan—and just “what a club in North Carolina called it.”)

Various exhibits that followed detailed Daniels’ merchandise deals. It was a cornucopia of bad Yankee Swap gifts: there was a comic book, Stormy Daniels Political Power; a black-and-purple #TeamStormy t-shirt; and a “Stormy Saint of Indictments” candle, which sold for $40 but which Daniels said she only received $7 per item on.

“You’re celebrating the indictment by selling things from your store,” Necheles said.

Moms for Liberty, the most prominent group in the right-wing movement against “woke” public schools, is well known for its crusades against LGBTQ-inclusive curriculum and anti-racism initiatives in classrooms. Since 2021, the group, which counts 130,000 members, across 48 states, has claimed—at school board meetings, conferences, and on social media—that left-wing teachers are turning students into social justice warriors.

Those efforts—of playing politics in public schools in the name of excising politics—has proved great preparation for its leaders’ current project: Railing against what they see as an antisemitic agenda in certain public schools, even as Moms for Liberty itself reels from allegations of antisemitism in its own ranks.

Earlier this week, leaders of several public school systems testified before the House Committee on Education and the Workforce in the latest hearing on antisemitism in America’s educational institutions. High-up officials from New York City, Berkeley, CA, and Montgomery County, Maryland defended their schools against the allegations of Republican lawmakers. Rep. Aaron Bean (R-Fla.) said they had “been accused of doing nothing and turning a blind eye” while students and teachers were “spewing Nazi propaganda” in the months since Hamas’ October 7 attack and Israel’s subsequent siege in Gaza.

After the hearing, Moms for Liberty co-founder Tiffany Justice connected current concerns about antisemitic activism to one of the group’s most successful battle cries: That schools focus on left-wing politics at the expense of academics.

“Parents thought they were sending their kids to school to get an education, ‘ABCs. One, two, threes,'” Justice told the conservative news site Just the News. “And at some point, the schools started becoming factories for little activist social justice warriors.”

In March, the politerati were atwitter over what appeared major news: Longtime political operator, lobbyist, wheeler-dealer, and (pardoned) felon Paul Manafort was in talks to join Donald Trump’s 2024 presidential campaign. This seemed an odd move, given all of Manafort’s schemings over the years. A more recent Manafort business venture—unknown to the public—raises further questions about him and his attempt to return to the Trump fold. According to documents obtained by Mother Jones—including a memo written by Manafort—two years ago, Manafort was trying to orchestrate a $250 million deal to create a streaming service in China in a project that he asserted was blessed by the Chinese government and that was partnering with a Chinese telecommunications firm sanctioned by the US government. 

On Friday morning, the Washington Post, which obtained the same documents, broke the news of Manafort’s involvement in this endeavor. 

Manafort was Trump’s campaign manager for part of 2016—until Trump dumped him after allegations emerged that Manafort had pocketed $12.7 million in undisclosed cash payments a few years earlier from a pro-Russia political party in Ukraine. (His lawyer denied he had received this money.) Two years later, as a result of special counsel Robert Mueller’s investigation of the Trump-Russia scandal, Manafort was found guilty of and pleaded guilty to assorted financial crimes related to his consulting work in Ukraine, including bank fraud and conspiring to defraud the United States. He was sentenced to more than seven years in federal prison and sent off to the hoosegow. (He was released to home confinement during the Covid pandemic.) In 2020, a bipartisan report from the Senate Intelligence Committee declared Manafort a “grave counterintelligence threat,” revealing that during the 2016 race he had repeatedly passed Trump campaign inside information to a former business associate who was a “Russian intelligence officer” and a “Kremlin agent.” In his final weeks in the White House, Trump pardoned Manafort. 

In the years since Trump cleaned his slate, Manafort has mostly maintained a low public profile. During part of that stretch, he privately endeavored to facilitate a huge deal in China. Emails and memos show that in May 2022 Manafort was working with a privately-held Hong Kong-based company called Standard Huaxia Limited to set up a new streaming company in China dubbed Doorways. Manafort and his colleagues were looking to raise an initial $25 million for the project that Manafort noted was seeking $250 million. 

A memo written (according to its meta-data) by Manafort described Doorways as a firm that would distribute in China “several kinds of content covering the entire spectrum of intangible products related to culture, including music, television and film entertainment, news and education.” You can read the full document below.

This story was originally published by the Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

Vermont is poised to pass a groundbreaking measure forcing major polluting companies to help pay for damages caused by the climate crisis, in a move being closely watched by other states including New York and California.

Modeled after the EPA’s Superfund program, which forces companies to pay for toxic waste cleanup, the climate superfund bill would charge major fossil fuel companies doing business within the state billions of dollars for their past emissions.

The measure would make Vermont the first US state to hold fossil fuel companies liable for their planet-heating pollution. “If you contributed to a mess, you should play a role in cleaning it up,” Elena Mihaly, vice-president of the Conservation Law Foundation’s Vermont chapter, which is campaigning for the bill, said in an interview.

If passed, the bill will face a steep uphill battle in the courts. But supporters say the first-of-its-kind legislation could be a model for the rest of the country. Four other states are weighing similar initiatives. Sens. Bernie Sanders (D-VT) and Chris Van Hollen (D-MD) also attempted to include a federal version in the infrastructure bill passed in 2022, though it was omitted from the final draft. (The measure would have raised $500 billion.)

Here at Mother Jones, we respect a wide spectrum of views when it comes to dogs. But a line must be drawn somewhere, and that somewhere is revealing that you killed your 14-month-old wirehair pointer for acting like a puppy.

That’s what South Dakota Gov. Kristi Noem admitted to in graphic detail in her forthcoming book, which was obtained by the Guardian and has since sparked outrage even in Republican circles. But if your instinct is to give Noem the benefit of the doubt, which I initially did upon hearing about this story, I am here to tell you that her actions are far worse than I could have imagined.

In the passages obtained by the Guardian, Noem details a hunt gone wrong because the dog, Cricket, was “out of her mind with excitement, chasing all those birds and having the time of her life.” (To me, that behavior seems wholly appropriate for a puppy, especially when outdoors.) But things take a decidedly awful turn when Cricket attacks chickens belonging to a local family. From the Guardian:

Cricket the untrainable dog, Noem writes, behaved like “a trained assassin.”

When Noem finally grabbed Cricket, she says, the dog “whipped around to bite me.” Then, as the chickens’ owner wept, Noem repeatedly apologised, wrote the shocked family a check “for the price they asked, and helped them dispose of the carcasses littering the scene of the crime.”

Known for its investigative reporting, El Faro has been referred to as “a breakthrough digital newspaper blazing an independent and ethical trail in Central America.”

So when reporters at the Salvadoran news outlet noticed their cellphones acting strange all of a sudden—batteries draining, unexplained overheating—they had a weird feeling that someone was accessing their messages. They sent one reporter’s phone to Citizen Lab, a watchdog group, and the analysis found something shocking: It was infected with Pegasus, a military-grade surveillance software that can copy messages, harvest photos and even control the phone’s camera and microphone.

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“Okay, I’m the target right now,” reporter Julia Gavarrete recalled. “But the thing was, it’s obvious that it’s not only me.”

The watchdog checked more journalists’ phones, and it quickly became clear that El Faro was under a massive surveillance campaign. But who was behind it?

Once again, there’s not much love lost between Bill Barr and the man he accused of betraying the Oval Office, Donald Trump. When the former attorney general confirmed this week that he would support the Republican presidential ticket in November, his former boss took the opportunity to mock Barr as “slow-moving” and “lazy.” 

“That’s classic Trump,” Barr chuckled on Friday when CNN’s Kaitlan Collins asked about the insults. “What’s the question?”

He went on to express frustration with that voters are faced with a rematch between Joe Biden and Trump. But given that choice, Barr explained that he would happily vote for Trump, who, he revealed in the same interview, routinely broached the idea of executing his rivals.

“But he’s mocking you,” Collins pressed.

“So? It’s not about me.”

This story was originally published by the Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

Climate experts fear Donald Trump will follow a blueprint created by his allies to gut the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), disbanding its work on climate science and tailoring its operations to business interests.

Joe Biden’s presidency has increased the profile of the science-based federal agency but its future has been put in doubt if Trump wins a second term and at a time when climate impacts continue to worsen.

The plan to “break up NOAA is laid out in the Project 2025 document written by more than 350 right-wingers and helmed by the Heritage Foundation. Called the “Mandate for Leadership: The Conservative Promise,” it is meant to guide the first 180 days of presidency for an incoming Republican president.

The document bears the fingerprints of Trump allies, including Johnny McEntee, who was one of Trump’s closest aides and is a senior adviser to Project 2025. “The National Oceanographic [sic] and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) should be dismantled and many of its functions eliminated, sent to other agencies, privatized, or placed under the control of states and territories,” the proposal says.

Last week, the Supreme Court heard oral arguments in what could end up being its most consequential abortion decision since Dobbs. In a case pitting Idaho’s extreme abortion ban against a federal law known as EMTALA—that since 1986 has required hospitals to provide emergency care—conservative justices seemed to embrace the idea that states can deny crisis medical treatment to pregnant patients, even if doing so means those patients suffer catastrophic, life-altering injuries. “My reaction can be summed up as ‘appalled,’” says Sara Rosenbaum, emerita professor at George Washington University who is one of the country’s foremost experts in health policy issues affecting women and families. “Will [the court] really say it is fine [to enforce] a law that costs women their organs as long as they don’t die?”

It’s hard to think of a piece of progressive American health care policy since the late 1970s in which Rosenbaum hasn’t played a pivotal role conceptualizing, enacting, or improving. That includes the federal statute that guarantees the right of every American to go to a hospital emergency room and receive medical treatment before being sent somewhere else. The Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act requires hospitals to screen and stabilize anyone who arrives at the emergency room, including women in active labor. Narrow in scope yet vast in impact, the law has been a “force field around hospital emergency departments,” Rosenbaum says, protecting pregnant patients for four decades. Now, with the Dobbs decision, SCOTUS has “blown up medical care for childbearing people,” she says—and EMTALA could be the next major health care protection that the court decides to explode.   

To more fully understand the implications of the case before the Supreme Court, we reached out to Rosenbaum to discuss the history of this unique statute and why it has become even more vital since the end of Roe v Wade. 

You’ve called EMTALA “revolutionary” and “the most important American health care law that we have.” Why? What makes this law so special? 

It’s the only American law we have that guarantees access to care. For everybody. It doesn’t matter who you are—whether you have insurance or don’t have insurance, what color you are, how much money you have, whether or not you’re disabled. If you come to a hospital emergency department and you believe you have an emergency, they have to screen you. If it is an emergency, they have to stabilize you. The definition of an emergency isn’t that you’re in danger of dying; it includes situations that could lead to severe, long-lasting physical harm. And the decision about what is required to stabilize you—it’s up to the doctor’s medical judgment. 

In the early morning, one can hear the birds perched on trees around the Gaza Solidarity Encampment at Columbia University. Farther off, there are sounds of protest and counterprotest. But inside the camp itself—technically the second camp after the New York Police Department cleared out the first and caused even more national attention to focus on this campus lawn—the resistance is often quieter if steady: a community formed to call for ceasefire, divestment, and the end to war.

This is a village built overnight. On April 17, student activists descended on the lawn outside the library—which had already been locked off to outsiders without a student identification card—and set up green tents and Palestinian flags. It was planned for the same day Columbia President Minouche Shafik appeared before Congress to discuss antisemitism on college campuses. The protesters hoped to call attention to the role of the United States and Columbia University in supporting Israel. Since Hamas’ attack on October 7, in which more than 1,000 Isrealis were killed and 129 hostages were taken, the Israeli government has waged a war that has led to more than 34,000 dead Palestinians and led Gaza to the brink of famine. 

Following her testimony, Shafik called the New York Police Department, which came in wearing riot gear, and students involved in the protests gained new energy. They quickly built a second encampment. Student demands have remained: that Columbia’s endowment divest from companies they say enable the conflict; that Columbia be transparent about its investments going forward; and that amnesty be provided for all students and faculty who have participated in protests. They hope to center the struggles in Gaza, where Israel is on the brink of a potential invasion of Rafah.

Inside the encampment over the past week, I have found life different than most social media posts and news coverage might have you believe.

Students are not only protesting but attempting to create a new world. Within the camp, there is a certain normalcy in the daily communal flow. The few hundred students here—who each night come outside despite memories of the NYPD’s charge—wake up each morning, stretch, and brush their teeth. An IKEA table serves as an ersatz whiteboard, where students can see daily programming. Next is a morning assembly where leaders update everyone on the status of negotiations between protesters and the administration. Occasionally there are guest speakers and lectures.

A year and a half after Mother Jones exposed how Oklahoma courts were imprisoning mothers for longer than their abusers, state lawmakers passed a bill that could allow some of those mothers’ sentences to be shortened. But this week, Gov. Kevin Stitt vetoed the legislation.

In an award-winning investigation in 2022, I told the story of Kerry King, a mom in Tulsa who got 30 years in prison under the state’s “failure to protect” law because she couldn’t stop her abusive boyfriend from beating her 4-year-old daughter. He received significantly less time behind bars for committing that violence. When my colleague Ryan Little and I conducted a groundbreaking review of Oklahoma’s court records, we identified hundreds of people like King who had been charged under the state’s law since 2009 for allegedly failing to protect their children from another adult’s harm. About 90 percent of those imprisoned under the statute were women, disproportionately Black mothers. Many of them experienced abuse from the same person, often a romantic partner, who harmed their children.

In recent weeks, Oklahoma’s legislature overwhelmingly approved the Oklahoma Survivors’ Act, which would allow courts to shorten prison sentences for people who can prove their crime stemmed from domestic violence. The legislation could help mothers like King who are convicted for “failure to protect,” as well as others who killed an abuser in self-defense, or committed a crime while attempting to escape from the abusive relationship, or followed an abuser’s order to break the law for fear of retribution. It would apply to both new and old cases, theoretically helping people with active trials or those who want to retroactively shorten their sentences.

It’s a big deal that this legislation passed with so much support: As I’ve reported before, only a few other states have laws like this, including New York. And none of those states are as conservative as Oklahoma. But the issue appears to have struck a chord on both sides of the Sooner State’s political aisle. “This may be the first time in my life I agree with someone from San Francisco,” then-Rep. Todd Russ, who is Republican and now Oklahoma’s state treasurer, wrote to me in 2022 after I emailed him from California to share our investigation. In March, the state Senate unanimously approved the Oklahoma Survivors’ Act, and in April the state House approved it with a vote of 84-3.

Despite such broad support, Republican Gov. Stitt vetoed the bill on Tuesday. He described the legislation as “bad policy,” arguing that “untold numbers of violent individuals who are incarcerated or should be incarcerated in the future will have greater opportunity to present a threat to society due to this bill’s impact.” (Our investigation found that the vast majority of women in Oklahoma convicted for failure to protect—a nonviolent crime—had no prior felony record.)

The first criminal trial of a former US president is underway, with Donald Trump facing 34 felony counts of falsifying business records related to hush-money payments allegedly made in 2016 to cover up an affair he had with adult film star Stormy Daniels. Here’s the latest—the key updates and absurd moments—from the historic trial.

Public birthday wishes are a tricky art. Some are cute! Others give the ick. But on the 54th birthday of Melania Trump, a new entry into the canon of birthday messages has emerged—and it defies neat categorization.

“I want to start by wishing my wife Melania a very happy birthday,” Donald Trump told reporters on Friday. “It would be nice to be with her but I’m at a courthouse for a rigged trial.”

Trump begins today's rant by wishing Melania a happy birthday while simultaneously whining about his case pic.twitter.com/qgAkHA2voJ

— Aaron Rupar (@atrupar) April 26, 2024