
San Antonio mayor live election results: Gina Ortiz Jones leads
Gina Ortiz Jones is leading the race to be San Antonio's new mayor, edging out Rolando Pablos in early election results posted Saturday.
Why it matters: The mayoral election, the city's first in 16 years without an incumbent on the ballot, has evolved into an unusually partisan race for a nonpartisan seat, drawing money and influence from across the state and nation.
Neither Ortiz Jones nor Pablos have held elected office before, and San Antonio has not elected a mayor who hasn't served on the City Council since Phil Hardberger in 2005.
The latest: Early vote results as of 7pm Saturday showed Ortiz Jones with 52% of the vote, with 48% for Pablos.
State of play: Ortiz Jones served as an Air Force undersecretary in the Biden administration and was twice the Democratic nominee for the 23rd Congressional District. Pablos is a former Texas secretary of state who has served as a senior adviser to Republican Gov. Greg Abbott.
During the runoff campaign, both leaned on their families' immigrant backgrounds. Ortiz Jones spoke of being raised by a single mother who immigrated from the Philippines and Pablos of his family moving from Mexico to El Paso when he was 8 years old.
Follow the money: Pablos and his supporters appeared to both outraise and outspend Ortiz Jones in the runoff election, campaign finance reports show.
Pablos raised nearly $333,000 and spent more than $275,000 from late April through May 28. He got a big boost from the Texas Economic Fund, a political action committee run by Abbott's former political director, which raised $1.35 million and spent over $623,000 during that time.
Ortiz Jones raised nearly $249,000 and spent over $133,000 in the same period. She had help from Fields of Change, a national Democratic PAC, which spent more than $160,000 for her campaign.
The big picture: The new mayor will lead San Antonio at a pivotal time, as officials seek to gain public support for a new downtown Spurs arena that could be surrounded by a sports and entertainment district.
They will also lead the city through the remaining years of the Trump administration, under which San Antonio has lost millions of dollars in federal funding. The city is also expecting a budget deficit.
Catch up quick: Mayor Ron Nirenberg reached his term limits after eight years in office, making him the city's longest-serving mayor since Henry Cisneros in the 1980s.
San Antonio's next mayor will serve for four years after voters approved increasing term length from two years. They will work alongside several new City Council members.
Flashback: Nirenberg's departure left a rare opening that drew a crowded 27-candidate field to replace him. Four sitting City Council members struggled to break through the noise as traditional backers in local elections, like the police union, sat out the first round of voting.
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South Dakota is on track to spend $2 billion on prisons in the next decade
SIOUX FALLS, S.D. -- Two years after approving a tough-on-crime sentencing law, South Dakota is scrambling to deal with the price tag for that legislation: Housing thousands of additional inmates could require up to $2 billion to build new prisons in the next decade. That's a lot of money for a state with one of the lowest populations in the U.S., but a consultant said it's needed to keep pace with an anticipated 34% surge of new inmates in the next decade as a result of South Dakota's tough criminal justice laws. And while officials are grumbling about the cost, they don't seem concerned with the laws that are driving the need even as national crime rates are dropping. 'Crime has been falling everywhere in the country, with historic drops in crime in the last year or two,' said Bob Libal, senior campaign strategist at the criminal justice nonprofit The Sentencing Project. 'It's a particularly unusual time to be investing $2 billion in prisons.' Some Democratic-led states have worked to close prisons and enact changes to lower inmate populations, but that's a tough sell in Republican-majority states such as South Dakota that believe in a tough-on-crime approach, even if that leads to more inmates. For now, state lawmakers have set aside a $600 million fund to replace the overcrowded 144-year-old South Dakota State Penitentiary in Sioux Falls, making it one of the most expensive taxpayer-funded projects in South Dakota history. But South Dakota will likely need more prisons. Phoenix-based Arrington Watkins Architects, which the state hired as a consultant, has said South Dakota will need 3,300 additional beds in coming years, bringing the cost to $2 billion. Driving up costs is the need for facilities with different security levels to accommodate the inmate population. Concerns about South Dakota's prisons first arose four years ago, when the state was flush with COVID-19 relief funds. Lawmakers wanted to replace the penitentiary, but they couldn't agree on where to put the prison and how big it should be. A task force of state lawmakers assembled by Republican Gov. Larry Rhoden is expected to decide that in a plan for prison facilities this July. Many lawmakers have questioned the proposed cost, but few have called for criminal justice changes that would make such a large prison unnecessary. 'One thing I'm trying to do as the chairman of this task force is keep us very focused on our mission,' said Lieutenant Gov. Tony Venhuizen. 'There are people who want to talk about policies in the prisons or the administration or the criminal justice system more broadly, and that would be a much larger project than the fairly narrow scope that we have.' South Dakota's incarceration rate of 370 per 100,000 people is an outlier in the Upper Midwest. Neighbors Minnesota and North Dakota have rates of under 250 per 100,000 people, according to the Sentencing Project, a criminal justice advocacy nonprofit. Nearly half of South Dakota's projected inmate population growth can be attributed to a law approved in 2023 that requires some violent offenders to serve the full-length of their sentences before parole, according to a report by Arrington Watkins. When South Dakota inmates are paroled, about 40% are ordered to return to prison, the majority of those due to technical violations such as failing a drug test or missing a meeting with a parole officer. Those returning inmates made up nearly half of prison admissions in 2024. Sioux Falls criminal justice attorney Ryan Kolbeck blamed the high number of parolees returning in part on the lack of services in prison for people with drug addictions. 'People are being sent to the penitentiary but there's no programs there for them. There's no way it's going to help them become better people,' he said. 'Essentially we're going to put them out there and house them for a little bit, leave them on parole and expect them to do well.' South Dakota also has the second-greatest disparity of Native Americans in its prisons. While Native Americans make up one-tenth of South Dakota's population, they make up 35% of those in state prisons, according to Prison Policy Initiative, a nonprofit public policy group. Though legislators in the state capital, Pierre, have been talking about prison overcrowding for years, they're reluctant to dial back on tough-on-crime laws. For example, it took repeated efforts over six years before South Dakota reduced a controlled substance ingestion law to a misdemeanor from a felony for the first offense, aligning with all other states. 'It was a huge, Herculean task to get ingestion to be a misdemeanor,' Kolbeck said. Former penitentiary warden Darin Young said the state needs to upgrade its prisons, but he also thinks it should spend up to $300 million on addiction and mental illness treatment. 'Until we fix the reasons why people come to prison and address that issue, the numbers are not going to stop,' he said. Without policy changes, the new prisons are sure to fill up, criminal justice experts agreed. 'We might be good for a few years, now that we've got more capacity, but in a couple years it'll be full again,' Kolbeck said. 'Under our policies, you're going to reach capacity again soon.'

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What to know about Trump's deployment of National Guard troops to LA protests
President Donald Trump says he's deploying 2,000 California National Guard troops to Los Angeles to respond to immigration protests, over the objections of California Gov. Gavin Newsom. It's not the first time Trump has activated the National Guard to quell protests. In 2020, he asked governors of several states to send troops to Washington, D.C. to respond to demonstrations that arose after George Floyd was killed by Minneapolis police officers. Many of the governors he asked agreed, sending troops to the federal district. The governors that refused the request were allowed to do so, keeping their troops on home soil. This time, however, Trump is acting in opposition to Newsom, who under normal circumstances would retain control and command of California's National Guard. While Trump said that federalizing the troops was necessary to 'address the lawlessness' in California, the Democratic governor said the move was 'purposely inflammatory and will only escalate tensions.' Here are some things to know about when and how the president can deploy troops on U.S. soil. Generally, federal military forces are not allowed to carry out civilian law enforcement duties against U.S. citizens except in times of emergency. An 18th-century wartime law called the Insurrection Act is the main legal mechanism that a president can use to activate the military or National Guard during times of rebellion or unrest. But Trump didn't invoke the Insurrection Act on Saturday. Instead, he relied on a similar federal law that allows the president to federalize National Guard troops under certain circumstances. The National Guard is a hybrid entity that serves both state and federal interests. Often it operates under state command and control, using state funding. Sometimes National Guard troops will be assigned by their state to serve federal missions, remaining under state command but using federal funding. The law cited by Trump's proclamation places National Guard troops under federal command. The law says that can be done under three circumstances: When the U.S. is invaded or in danger of invasion; when there is a rebellion or danger of rebellion against the authority of the U.S. government, or when the President is unable to 'execute the laws of the United States,' with regular forces. But the law also says that orders for those purposes 'shall be issued through the governors of the States.' It's not immediately clear if the president can activate National Guard troops without the order of that state's governor. Notably, Trump's proclamation says the National Guard troops will play a supporting role by protecting ICE officers as they enforce the law, rather than having the troops perform law enforcement work. Steve Vladeck, a professor at the Georgetown University Law Center who specializes in military justice and national security law, says that's because the National Guard troops can't legally engage in ordinary law enforcement activities unless Trump first invokes the Insurrection Act. Vladeck said the move raises the risk that the troops could end up using force while filling that 'protection' role. The move could also be a precursor to other, more aggressive troop deployments down the road, he wrote on his website. 'There's nothing these troops will be allowed to do that, for example, the ICE officers against whom these protests have been directed could not do themselves,' Vladeck wrote. The Insurrection Act and related laws were used during the Civil Rights era to protect activists and students desegregating schools. President Dwight Eisenhower sent the 101st Airborne to Little Rock, Arkansas, to protect Black students integrating Central High School after that state's governor activated the National Guard to keep the students out. George H.W. Bush used the Insurrection Act to respond to riots in Los Angeles in 1992 after the acquittal of white police officers who were videotaped beating Black motorist Rodney King. National Guard troops have been deployed for a variety of emergencies, including the COVID pandemic, hurricanes and other natural disasters. But generally, those deployments are carried out with the agreements of the governors of the responding states. In 2020, Trump asked governors of several states to deploy their National Guard troops to Washington, D.C. to quell protests that arose after George Floyd was killed by Minneapolis police officers. Many of the governors agreed, sending troops to the federal district. At the time, Trump also threatened to invoke the Insurrection Act for protests following Floyd's death in Minneapolis – an intervention rarely seen in modern American history. But then-Defense Secretary Mark Esper pushed back, saying the law should be invoked 'only in the most urgent and dire of situations.' Trump never did invoke the Insurrection Act during his first term. But while campaigning for his second term, he suggested that would change. Trump told an audience in Iowa in 2023 that he was prevented from using the military to suppress violence in cities and states during his first term, and said if the issue came up again in his next term, 'I'm not waiting.' Trump also promised to deploy the National Guard to help carry out his immigration enforcement goals, and his top adviser Stephen Miller explained how that would be carried out: Troops under sympathetic Republican governors would send troops to nearby states that refuse to participate, Miller said on 'The Charlie Kirk Show,' in 2023. After Trump announced he was federalizing the National Guard troops on Saturday, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth said other measures could follow. Hegseth wrote on the social media platform X that active duty Marines at Camp Pendleton were on high alert and would also be mobilized 'if violence continues.'

an hour ago
Trump officials are vowing to end school desegregation orders. Some parents say they're still needed
FERRIDAY, La. -- Even at a glance, the differences are obvious. The walls of Ferriday High School are old and worn, surrounded by barbed wire. Just a few miles away, Vidalia High School is clean and bright, with a new library and a crisp blue 'V' painted on orange brick. Ferriday High is 90% Black. Vidalia High is 62% white. For Black families, the contrast between the schools suggests 'we're not supposed to have the finer things,' said Brian Davis, a father in Ferriday. 'It's almost like our kids don't deserve it,' he said. The schools are part of Concordia Parish, which was ordered to desegregate 60 years ago and remains under a court-ordered plan to this day. Yet there's growing momentum to release the district — and dozens of others — from decades-old orders that some call obsolete. In a remarkable reversal, the Justice Department said it plans to start unwinding court-ordered desegregation plans dating to the Civil Rights Movement. Officials started in April, when they lifted a 1960s order in Louisiana's Plaquemines Parish. Harmeet Dhillon, who leads the department's civil rights division, has said others will 'bite the dust.' It comes amid pressure from Republican Gov. Jeff Landry and his attorney general, who have called for all the state's remaining orders to be lifted. They describe the orders as burdens on districts and relics of a time when Black students were still forbidden from some schools. The orders were always meant to be temporary — school systems can be released if they demonstrate they fully eradicated segregation. Decades later, that goal remains elusive, with stark racial imbalances persisting in many districts. Civil rights groups say the orders are important to keep as tools to address the legacy of forced segregation — including disparities in student discipline, academic programs and teacher hiring. They point to cases like Concordia, where the decades-old order was used to stop a charter school from favoring white students in admissions. 'Concordia is one where it's old, but a lot is happening there,' said Deuel Ross, deputy director of litigation for the NAACP Legal Defense Fund. 'That's true for a lot of these cases. They're not just sitting silently.' Last year, before President Donald Trump took office, Concordia Parish rejected a Justice Department plan that would have ended its case if the district combined several majority white and majority Blac k elementary and middle schools. At a town hall meeting, Vidalia residents vigorously opposed the plan, saying it would disrupt students' lives and expose their children to drugs and violence. An official from the Louisiana attorney general's office spoke against the proposal and said the Trump administration likely would change course on older orders. Accepting the plan would have been a 'death sentence' for the district, said Paul Nelson, a former Concordia superintendent. White families would have fled to private schools or other districts, said Nelson, who wants the court order removed. 'It's time to move on,' said Nelson, who left the district in 2016. 'Let's start looking to build for the future, not looking back to what our grandparents may have gone through.' At Ferriday High, athletic coach Derrick Davis supported combining schools in Ferriday and Vidalia. He said the district's disparities come into focus whenever his teams visit schools with newer sports facilities. 'It seems to me, if we'd all combine, we can all get what we need,' he said. Others oppose merging schools if it's done solely for the sake of achieving racial balance. 'Redistricting and going to different places they're not used to ... it would be a culture shock to some people," said Ferriday's school resource officer, Marcus Martin, who, like Derrick Davis, is Black. The district's current superintendent and school board did not respond to requests for comment. Concordia is among more than 120 districts across the South that remain under desegregation orders from the 1960s and '70s, including about a dozen in Louisiana. Calling the orders historical relics is 'unequivocally false,' said Shaheena Simons, who until April led the Justice Department section that oversees school desegregation cases. 'Segregation and inequality persist in our schools, and they persist in districts that are still under desegregation orders,' she said. With court orders in place, families facing discrimination can reach out directly to the Justice Department or seek relief from the court. Otherwise, the only recourse is a lawsuit, which many families can't afford, Simons said. In Concordia, the order played into a battle over a charter school that opened in 2013 on the former campus of an all-white private school. To protect the area's progress on racial integration, a judge ordered Delta Charter School to build a student body that reflected the district's racial demographics. But in its first year, the school was just 15% Black. After a court challenge, Delta was ordered to give priority to Black students. Today, about 40% of its students are Black. Desegregation orders have been invoked recently in other cases around the state. One led to an order to address disproportionately high rates of discipline for Black students, and in another a predominantly Black elementary school was relocated from a site close to a chemical plant. The Trump administration was able to close the Plaquemines case with little resistance because the original plaintiffs were no longer involved — the Justice Department was litigating the case alone. Concordia and an unknown number of other districts are in the same situation, making them vulnerable to quick dismissals. Concordia's case dates to 1965, when the area was strictly segregated and home to a violent offshoot of the Ku Klux Klan. When Black families in Ferriday sued for access to all-white schools, the federal government intervened. As the district integrated its schools, white families fled Ferriday. The district's schools came to reflect the demographics of their surrounding areas. Ferriday is mostly Black and low-income, while Vidalia is mostly white and takes in tax revenue from a hydroelectric plant. A third town in the district, Monterey, has a high school that's 95% white. At the December town hall, Vidalia resident Ronnie Blackwell said the area 'feels like a Mayberry, which is great,' referring to the fictional Southern town from 'The Andy Griffith Show.' The federal government, he said, has 'probably destroyed more communities and school systems than it ever helped.' Under its court order, Concordia must allow students in majority Black schools to transfer to majority white schools. It also files reports on teacher demographics and student discipline. After failing to negotiate a resolution with the Justice Department, Concordia is scheduled to make its case that the judge should dismiss the order, according to court documents. Meanwhile, amid a wave of resignations in the federal government, all but two of the Justice Department lawyers assigned to the case have left. Without court supervision, Brian Davis sees little hope for improvement. 'A lot of parents over here in Ferriday, they're stuck here because here they don't have the resources to move their kids from A to B," he said. 'You'll find schools like Ferriday — the term is, to me, slipping into darkness."