Community activists demand more accountability after deadly Saenger Theatre shooting
7-year-old paddleboarder found safe after being reported missing in Okaloosa County
A fun Sunday evening turned into tragedy after gunshots rang out during a children's dance recital.
Mobile Police Department Sgt. John Young also runs a nonprofit organization, Men United Against Violence. The group's objective is to stop young men from continuing the cycle of gun violence.
'This brute beast went to this dance recital knowing children were there,' Young explained. 'He intentionally carried a gun, and he intentionally shot someone in front of those children. That is the issue we're dealing with. This subculture of gun violence involving young Black men in Mobile is the issue.'
Young said he is tired of seeing Black men take the lives of other Black men, and staying silent is not an option.
'What is the value in not saying it?' Young questioned. 'What is the political correctness in not saying 'Black man, stop killing Black man.' And if I, as a Black man, can't say it, who can?'
Stewart Memorial CME Church Pastor Marvin Lue said it's important to keep praying when navigating another act of gun violence in the community.
'When we pray, pray for peace, pray for calm, pray for common sense to step in in these conflict resolution situations,' he elaborated.
Members of his congregation were inside the theater that night and left traumatized.
'They were literally in the crossfire of this senseless act, that it could have been worse than it was, that there is a fear of going outside,' he further explained.
Both Young and Lue agreed that prayer can be part of the solution, but the first step is to hold people accountable.
'We have to have some sense of accountability,' Lue said. 'But it begins with us. It begins with us. I can't be the one throwing rocks and hide my hand.'
'Grow up. Life has been hard for many people for many years,' Young concluded.
Honduran man accused of crashing into barricade at Naval Air Station Pensacola
In addition to accountability, Young and Pastor Lue said community leadership and strong family support are key to stopping this cycle.
Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
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Miami Herald
8 hours ago
- Miami Herald
A clash over a promotion puts Hegseth at odds with his generals
WASHINGTON - In the spring, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth decided not to promote a senior Army officer who had led troops over five tours in Afghanistan and Iraq because Hegseth suspected, without evidence, that the officer had leaked sensitive information to the news media, according to three people with knowledge of the matter. When Lt. Gen. Douglas A. Sims II was cleared of the allegations, Hegseth briefly agreed to promote him, only to change course again early this month, the officials said. This time, Hegseth maintained that the senior officer was too close to Gen. Mark Milley, a former chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff whom President Donald Trump has accused of disloyalty. Hegseth's sudden reversal prompted a rare intervention from Gen. Dan Caine, the current chair of the Joint Chiefs. He urged Hegseth to reconsider, said the officials, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss internal deliberations. Hegseth met with Sims one final time but refused to budge. Sims is expected to retire in the coming months after 34 years in the military, officials said. Through a spokesperson, Sims and Caine declined to comment. A Pentagon spokesperson declined to comment on Hegseth's role. The standoff over his promotion reflects an ongoing clash between Hegseth's highly partisan worldview, in which he has written that the Democratic Party 'really does hate America,' and the long-standing tradition of an apolitical military that pledges an oath to the Constitution. Hegseth's actions could shape the military's top ranks for years to come. His insistence on absolute loyalty, backed with repeated threats of polygraphs, also creates uncertainty and mistrust that threaten to undermine the readiness and effectiveness of the force, officials said. The tension between top military officers and their civilian leaders has been persistent since the earliest days of Trump's second term, when senior administration officials ordered the removal of Milley's portrait from a Pentagon hallway. Caine, who pressed Hegseth on Sims' behalf, got the job of Joint Chiefs chair after Hegseth and Trump fired Gen. Charles Q. Brown Jr., his predecessor. Hegseth accused Brown, who is Black, of prioritizing diversity over the combat effectiveness of the force. Also removed during the first months of the new administration were the first woman to command the Navy, Adm. Lisa Franchetti; the first woman to command the Coast Guard, Adm. Linda Fagan; Hegseth's senior military assistant, Lt. Gen. Jennifer Short; and the U.S. military representative to the NATO military committee, Vice Adm. Shoshana Chatfield. All were dismissed as part of a campaign to root out diversity, equity and inclusion from the military and restore what Hegseth has described as a 'warrior ethos.' Hegseth also recently withdrew the nomination of Rear Adm. Michael 'Buzz' Donnelly to lead the Navy's 7th Fleet in Japan -- its largest overseas force -- amid reports in conservative media that seven years earlier the admiral had allowed a drag performance to take place on the aircraft carrier Ronald Reagan. The decision not to promote Sims, who is white, seems unrelated to any issues of race or gender. Rather, the general's career seems to have become tangled up in broader suspicions about leaks and a mistrust of senior military officers that have defined much of Hegseth's first six months on the job. Hegseth, a former Fox News host and an Iraq War veteran, came to the Pentagon with little managerial experience. Since his arrival, a series of firings and resignations in his inner circle have left him with only a skeleton staff of civilian aides to run his office. He has been without a permanent chief of staff since late April. Ricky Buria, a recently retired Marine colonel who has forged a close relationship with Hegseth, has been serving in the critical role. But White House officials, who have concerns about Buria's competence and qualifications, have blocked Hegseth from formally appointing him to the job, officials said. Buria, meanwhile, has clashed repeatedly with many of Hegseth's closest aides and some officers in the Pentagon. This spring, Eric Geressy, a retired sergeant major who served with Hegseth in Iraq and now advises him in the Pentagon, threatened to quit after an argument with Buria, according to people with knowledge of the situation. Around the same time, the White House directed Hegseth to cease using polygraph tests on his team, after one of his senior aides complained, a former Pentagon official said. The rift and the decision to stop the polygraph testing were reported earlier by The Washington Post. Geressy briefly went to his home in Florida before Hegseth persuaded him to return, officials said. Hegseth is also still contending with a review by the Pentagon's inspector general related to his disclosure on the Signal messaging app of the precise timing of U.S. fighter jets' airstrikes against the Iranian-backed Houthi militia in Yemen in March. The office has received evidence that the information that Hegseth put in the commercial chat app came from a classified Central Command document, according to two U.S. officials with knowledge of the review. The classified origins of the information were reported earlier by the Post. The infighting, investigations and personnel churn have strained Hegseth's ability to manage critical operations in the Pentagon. Hegseth found himself in the crosshairs this month after Democrats and Republicans in Congress blamed him for pausing critical shipments of interceptors and other arms to Ukraine without sufficiently consulting with the White House or the State Department. The suspension was particularly jarring because just days earlier Trump had said he was open to selling more weapons to Ukraine after meeting with President Volodymyr Zelenskyy on the sidelines of a NATO meeting in The Hague. It also left the impression that Hegseth and his top aides had failed to keep the president and senior White House officials in the loop. As aides to Hegseth traded blame, and then tried to play down the impact of the pause, Trump dramatically overruled the Pentagon, saying he was unhappy with President Vladimir Putin of Russia. In a further twist, Trump endorsed a plan for NATO countries to send Patriot antimissile systems to Ukraine and replace them by purchasing new arms from the United States. It was an approach conceived by NATO countries. Hegseth has delegated responsibility for working out details of the arms transfers to senior U.S. military officers in Europe. The frustration with Hegseth is seeping out. Sen. Thom Tillis, R-N.C., who cast the deciding vote to confirm Hegseth, this month called him ill-suited to lead the Pentagon. 'With the passing of time, I think it's clear he's out of his depth as a manager of a large, complex organization,' Tillis told CNN. For now, Hegseth's missteps do not seem to have hurt his standing with the person who matters most: Trump. Like Trump, Hegseth had a career in television before joining the administration and relishes the performative aspects of his job. As defense secretary, he regularly posts videos that show him exercising with troops. The photo ops -- known inside the Pentagon as 'troop touches' -- are a central part of almost all his public appearances, current and former aides said. Several officials have complained that the photos and videos -- including one that he posted from Omaha Beach in Normandy in which he joins Army Rangers carrying a soldier on a stretcher as part of D-Day remembrances -- are distractions that serve primarily to bolster his image. Anna Kelly, a White House spokesperson, said that Hegseth retained Trump's 'full confidence' and cited the 'critical role' he played 'in ensuring the flawless execution' of the strikes on Iranian nuclear facilities in June. Current and former military officials said that Trump largely bypassed Hegseth in the days leading up to the strikes and instead relied on Caine and Gen. Michael Erik Kurilla, the head of Central Command, for counsel. But officials with knowledge of the president's thinking said Trump especially admired his defense secretary's combative response at a news conference to reports questioning the effectiveness of the attack. Today Hegseth is managing the Pentagon with a smaller immediate staff than when he started in January. Several top aides were forced out or quit. In late April, three top aides were fired and escorted from the building. Hegseth has repeatedly accused them, without offering evidence, of leaking classified information to the media. The fired aides, who have not been charged with any wrongdoing, were recently told that an investigation into the allegations against them was in its final stages and would soon be shared with the Pentagon's senior leaders, officials said. In the wake of their dismissal and a series of negative stories about Hegseth's performance in the job, Karoline Leavitt, the White House press secretary, offered a window into how Hegseth views the department he now runs. 'This is what happens when the entire Pentagon is working against you and working against the monumental change you are trying to implement,' she said. That same spirit seems to animate the Pentagon today. Only a few months ago, Sims' promotion to four stars seemed to be a given. Of the last 21 officers to hold his current position, 19 were promoted to four-star rank. 'He's the type of person you would want your kids serving under -- extremely dedicated, selfless and loyal,' said Brynt Parmeter, who stepped down in June as the Pentagon's chief talent management officer and has known Sims for more than three decades. The Pentagon gave a more muted assessment. In a statement, Sean Parnell, the Pentagon's chief spokesperson, thanked Sims for his 'decades of service.' 'We wish him well in his future endeavors,' Parnell wrote. This article originally appeared in The New York Times. Copyright 2025
Chicago Tribune
16 hours ago
- Chicago Tribune
Christi Parsons: Abraham Lincoln's empathy is what our divided nation needs
In our era, they might seem like performative gestures for the president. A quiet visit with the wife of a wounded soldier. A conversation with a battlefield nurse or a kitchen worker. A hand extended to a Black woman who had once been enslaved. Abraham Lincoln didn't publicize these moments, though. He prioritized them for personal reasons. Because even as he held the Union together with the force of his will — even as he buried his own child and bore the weight of a nation at war — he made time for mercy. He listened to the voices of those without power, a practice that steeled him for wielding his own. Empathy is getting a bad rap these days. Elon Musk recently declared it the 'fundamental weakness' of Western civilization, summing up the ethos of the administration he just left. Even those who defend empathy speak of it mainly as a private virtue, not one that compels any particular action by public figures. But in the hands of a great leader, empathy can become a powerful political force. Whenever America has begun to fray — during war, depression, civil upheaval — the country has rallied behind a president who focused on the disenfranchised. If we're to survive our current crisis of division, our civic leaders need to do the same thing. And, as citizens, so do we. Maybe that's why Lincoln's name keeps rising in our conversations, as historians and storytellers nudge us in this direction. Lincoln is a figure in exhibits, podcasts and intellectual festivals this summer. The Metropolitan Opera is working to produce George Saunders' moving novel 'Lincoln in the Bardo,' a deeply empathetic portrayal of the 16th president. New scholarship further reveals a deeply sensitive and heartfelt man. In this modern moment of anxiety, they're showing the way to a better place — or at least the first step toward it. How did Lincoln cultivate the trait of empathy? Partly by surrounding himself with compassionate people. That's according to 'Loving Lincoln,' a new biography examining his story through the lives of the women who, despite their lack of franchise, were his key influencers. By his female relatives, Lincoln was nurtured into what his stepmother called 'the best boy I ever saw,' historian Stacy Lynn writes. Their stories 'offer evidence of Lincoln's kindness and sensitivity, his patience, his moral center, his social and political virtues, the breadth of his compassion, and his inspirational legacy.' By far, the deepest relationship of his life was with his wife, Mary, whose steely resolve helped bolster his commitment to freeing enslaved people. She was in favor of emancipation very early on, and she pressed her husband on the issue. The Lincoln White House became a place of mercy and goodwill, in no small part because of the compassion the president showed for his wife in her grief. He welcomed Black people to the White House. Mary Dines, who worked in the kitchen, urged Lincoln to visit the camps where newly freed families lived, and he went. Elizabeth Keckley, a formerly enslaved woman who became Mary Lincoln's dressmaker and confidante, called him 'kind and generous by nature.' Editorial: The idea of America, under stressLincoln also welcomed Frederick Douglass and Sojourner Truth. 'I never was treated by any one with more kindness and cordiality than were shown to me by that great and good man, Abraham Lincoln,' Truth said later. To meet the gaze of all these people, to shake their hands, to give them audience — these were not symbolic gestures. They were radical acts of inclusion by the leader who kept the Union intact. This is meaningful for us today, in our moment of deep national division. For those in office, the life of Lincoln is a guideline. He spoke publicly of the need for love and compassion. He surrounded himself with confidantes who embraced it. And he took action on it, ultimately assisting the emancipation of 4 million people from bondage. Elected officials today can do likewise. They can reject the dogma of hatred in discussing immigration. They can surround themselves with advisers who, even if they favor downsizing government, hold respect for public service and public servants. They can vote and act with care for those on the margins of society. But the work of public compassion isn't all on their shoulders. Each of us can train ourselves individually for compassion. A good first step is the one Lincoln modeled all his life. We can start today by using compassionate language, a practice that can lead to feeling it in the heart. Research shows language doesn't just express emotion — it can help shape it. Certain practices can actually increase activity in the neural networks that enhance empathy and emotional regulation. Showing empathy to others feels good, too. Compassion, as with charity, begins at home. Ultimately, though, we have a compassionate responsibility to one another. So what can we as individuals do to fulfill it? We can reach out to friends and family members with differing perspectives. We can try to talk, understand and share. We can reward kindness in those who seek our votes — this fall, next year and the two after that. We can help change the national tenor by changing our own. In the grand scheme of things, it was just a few years ago that Lincoln led our country through something much worse than the conflict we're now experiencing. His example feels even more relevant when we consider how powerfully his words land in our hearts today. He's telling us how to bind up the wounds of our nation, 'with malice toward none, with charity for all.' For the love of Lincoln, let's listen. Christi Parsons is a former Tribune White House correspondent and a longtime political journalist now on the faculty at the University of Maryland.
Los Angeles Times
16 hours ago
- Los Angeles Times
Jim Crow meets ICE at ‘Alligator Alcatraz'
A few years ago I came across a profoundly unnerving historical photo: A lineup of terrified, naked Black babies cowered over the title 'Alligator Bait.' As it turned out, the idea of Black babies being used as alligator bait was a beloved trope dating back to the antebellum South, though it didn't really take off until after the Civil War. The image I saw was created in 1897, just one year after Plessy vs. Ferguson established 'separate but equal' as the foundational doublespeak of segregation. With formerly enslaved people striking out and settling their own homesteads, the prevailing stereotypes deployed to justify violence against Black people were forced to evolve. We were no longer simple and primitive, in desperate need of the civilizing stewardship of white Christian slave owners. After emancipation, we became dangerous, lazy and worthless. Worth less, in fact, than the chickens more commonly used to bait alligators. White Floridians in particular so fell in love with the concept of alligators hungry for Black babies that it birthed an entire industry. Visitors to the Sunshine State could purchase souvenir postcards featuring illustrations of googly-eyed alligators chasing crying Black children. There was a popular brand of licorice called 'Little African,' with packaging that featured a cartoon alligator tugging playfully at a Black infant's rag diaper. The tagline read: 'A Dainty Morsel.' Anglers could buy fishing lures molded in the shape of a Black baby protruding from an alligator's mouth. You get the idea. When I first learned of all this, naturally, I was unmoored. I was also surprised that I'd never heard of the alligator bait slur. Why doesn't it sit alongside the minstrel, the mammy and the golliwog in our cultural memory of racist archetypes? Did it cross some unspoken line with the vulgarity of its violence? Perhaps this particular dog whistle was a tad too audible? Or was it the plausible deniability? Did people (including historians) wave it away because babies were never 'really' used as alligator bait? It's true that beyond the cultural ephemera — which includes songs (such as the ragtime tune 'Mammy's Little Alligator Bait') and mechanical alligator toys that swallow Black babies whole, over and over again — there are apparently no surviving records of Black babies sacrificed in this way. No autopsy reports, no court records proving that anyone was apprehended and convicted of said crime. But of course, why would there be? The thing I found so unnerving about the alligator bait phenomenon wasn't its literal veracity. There's no question human beings are capable of that and far worse. Without a doubt, 'civilized' people could find satisfaction — or comfort, or justice, or opportunity — in the violent slaughter of babies. Donald Trump's recently posted AI clip 'Trump Gaza,' which suggests the real world annihilation of Palestinians will give way to luxury beachfront resorts, is a shining example. The thing that haunted me about alligator bait was the glee with which the idea was embraced. It was funny. Cute. Harmless. Can't you take a joke? Now here we are, 100 years after 'Mammy's Little Alligator Bait,' and the bigots are once again using cartoon alligators to meme-ify racial violence, this time against immigrants. Just like the title 'Alligator Bait,' the Florida detention center name 'Alligator Alcatraz' serves multiple ends: It provokes sadistic yuks. It mocks. It threatens. But most crucially, it dehumanizes. 'Alligator Bait' suggests that Black people are worthless. By evoking the country's most infamous prison, 'Alligator Alcatraz' frames the conversation as one about keeping Americans safe. It suggests the people imprisoned there are not vulnerable and defenseless men and women; anyone sent to 'Alligator Alcatraz' must be a criminal of the worst sort. Unworthy of basic human rights. Fully deserving of every indignity inflicted upon them. 'Alligator Alcatraz' cloaks cruelty in bureaucratic euphemism. It's doublespeak, masking an agenda to galvanize a bloodthirsty base and make state violence sound reasonable, even necessary. It has nothing to do with keeping Americans safe. Oft-cited studies from Stanford, the Libertarian Cato Institute, the New York Times and others have shown conclusively that immigrants, those here legally and illegally, are significantly less likely to commit violent crimes than their U.S.-born neighbors. If those behind 'Alligator Alcatraz' cared at all about keeping Americans safe, they wouldn't have just pushed a budget bill that obliterates our access to healthcare, environmental protection and food safety. If they actually cherished the rule of law, they would not deny immigrants their constitutionally guaranteed right to due process. If they were truly concerned about crime, there wouldn't be a felon in the White House. As souvenir shops and Etsy stores flood with 'Alligator Alcatraz' merch, it's worth noting that none of it is played for horror. Like the cutesy alligator bait merchandise before it, these aren't monster-movie creatures with blazing eyes and razor-sharp, blood-dripping teeth. The 'Alligator Alcatraz' storefront is cartoon gators slyly winking at us from under red baseball caps: It's just a joke, and you're in on it. And it's exactly this cheeky, palatable, available-in-child-sizes commodification that exposes the true horror for those it targets: There will be no empathy, no change of heart, no seeing of the light. Dear immigrants of America: Your pain is our amusement. The thing I keep wondering is, would this cheekiness even be possible if everyone knew the alligator bait history, the nastiness of which was buried so deep that 'Gator bait' chants echoed through the University of Florida stadium until 2020? Would they still chuckle if they saw the century-old postcards circulated by people who 'just didn't know any better'? My cynical side says: Yeah, probably. But my strategic side reminds me: If history truly didn't matter, it wouldn't be continuously minimized, rewritten, whitewashed. There's truth in the old idiom: Knowledge is power. Anyone trying to keep knowledge from you, whether by banning books, gutting classrooms, denying identities or burying facts, is only trying to disempower you. That's why history, as painful as it often is, matters. Remembering the horror of alligator bait isn't about dwelling on the grotesque. It's about recognizing how cruelty gets coded into culture. 'Alligator Alcatraz' is proof that alligator bait never went away. It didn't evolve or get slicker. It's the same old, tired cruelty, rebranded and aimed at a new target. The goal is exactly the same: to manufacture consent for suffering and ensure the most vulnerable among us know where they stand — as props, as bait, as punchlines. And no joke is more vulgar than one mocking the pain of your neighbors, whether they were born in this country or not. Ezra Claytan Daniels is a screenwriter and graphic novelist whose upcoming horror graphic novel, 'Mama Came Callin',' confronts the legacy of the alligator bait trope.
