
Police detain CNN correspondent on camera during LA protests
Police detain CNN correspondent on camera during LA protests
Show Caption
Hide Caption
The Insurrection Act explained: What it is and how presidents use it
The Insurrection Act allows presidents to deploy the military within the country during unrest. Here's what the law says and how it's been used.
Police briefly detained CNN correspondent Jason Carroll while on air during the network's coverage of the Los Angeles protests.
CNN was covering the protests live when in-studio anchors briefly lost contact with Carroll, who could be seen being led away from the protests by Los Angeles Police Department officers with his hands behind his back. Carroll returned to the mic, informing the anchors: "I am being detained."
An officer then can be heard telling Carroll: "We're letting you go. You can't come back. If you come back, you will be arrested."
Carroll then thanked the officers after being left behind the police perimeter.
"I was called over, and the officer told me to put my hands behind my back. I said, 'Am I being arrested?' and he said, 'You are being detained,'" Carroll explained. He later added that he clarified who he was and that he was with CNN, to no avail. "They did not put me in zip ties, but they did grab both my hands as I was escorted over to the side. They said you are being detained while we lead you out of this area. You are not allowed to be in this area."
In a statement, a CNN spokesperson said the situation was handled quickly.
"A CNN reporting team was briefly detained in Los Angeles while capturing the events that were unfolding as police attempted to clear an area during the ongoing protests and police and military response in the city," the statement read. "We are pleased the situation resolved quickly once the reporting team presented law enforcement with their CNN credentials. CNN will continue to report out the news unfolding in Los Angeles."
USA TODAY has reached out to the LAPD for comment.
Carroll said these situations come with the territory of covering protests.
"You take a lot of risks as press. This is low on that scale of risks, but it is something that I wasn't expecting, simply because we've been out here all day," he continued. "I've covered any number of protests, and normally the officers realize that the press is there doing a job."

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Yahoo
29 minutes ago
- Yahoo
Trans rights are under attack. These trans elders say they ‘aren't afraid'
When Renata Ramos was 5, she stood in front of a mirror, squeezed her eyes shut, and prayed that when she opened them, she would see a girl looking back at her. 'I'd go to the mirror, I'd look, and I was still a little boy,' she said. Ramos, 64, says she has been transgender for as long as she can remember. She didn't begin living openly as a woman until her 50s, suppressing her identity because she feared she'd lose her career as a model and actor. When she finally came out, it felt 'like walking on clouds,' she said. For Pride Month, CNN spoke with Ramos and other trans people over the age of 60 about their lives and what they've learned from watching the decades-long battle for trans rights unfold. Many spoke with pride and wonder about the strides the trans rights movement has made in the 21st century, with access to gender-affirming health care more accessible than ever and trans people protected from discrimination by laws in several states. But they also spoke about the anxiety and dismay provoked by the flurry of executive orders from President Donald Trump that target trans people – including declaring that there are only two genders, banning transgender women from participating in most women's sports, and barring transgender recruits from the military. The orders make good on Trump's campaign promise to crack down on 'gender ideology' and build on a wave of anti-trans laws passed largely in Republican states over the past few years. After decades of progress to protect trans rights, the current moment feels like a step back, some said. Still, the older trans people with whom CNN spoke emphasized their resilience in the face of anti-trans legislation – a resilience that has persisted throughout years of trans activism. 'No one can erase our identities,' Pauline Park, a trans activist and organizer, said. 'They can certainly try to take away our rights and undermine our ability to live openly and freely. And we need to resist that, and challenge that. 'But they can't erase our identities.' For Ramos, the latest attack on trans rights is just one more fight in a series of battles the LGBTQ community has fought in the past decades – and won. 'I don't give a damn' about the latest executive orders, she said. 'We've been overcoming one battle after the other all our lives.' The model and actress lived through the height of the AIDS crisis. After rallying for government action in Washington, DC, and attending countless friends' funerals, she saw the disease go from a death sentence to a survivable condition. And she witnessed same-sex marriage go from a dream to a mundane reality across the US. 'These young people are not used to it, which I completely understand,' she added. 'But we, from the old school, we're not afraid.' Ramos was born in Soca, a small and conservative city in Uruguay, where even coming out as gay 'scandalized' people, she said. She immigrated to Rhode Island alongside her family when she was 7. Although she was certain of her transgender identity from childhood, she thought she would never succeed as an actor if she came out. Most trans women she knew in her youth were pushed into sex work due to the lack of work opportunities for trans people, she said. Instead, she lived publicly as a gay man for decades, fantasizing about the day she would be able to retire and live as her true self. She worked as a Spanish-language interpreter while also racking up acting credits: She appeared as a 'drape' in 'Cry-Baby,' the 1990 film by iconic queer director John Waters. She finally began taking steps to medically and socially transition at 56, after a winding career that included stints in Washington, DC, Arizona, Miami, and New York, as well as an extended period of chronic illness followed by a stroke in 2014. Transitioning 'gave me comfort in my own skin,' she said. 'It's so beautiful.' She added that despite the current setbacks, acceptance of transgender people has increased significantly in the past years. It's only 'in the past decades, that you could be transgender and admit it,' she said. She emphasized the diversity of the trans community, despite stereotypes like those that link trans women to sex work. 'They only see one side of the transgender community,' she said. 'But there are many of us that have lived our dreams that are out there.' Criss Smith's gender journey starts in the sweltering heat of Jamaica – with a group of rambunctious boys and Go-Karts. Smith was seven years old, playing Go-Karts with his brother and friends. The other children – all boys – took off their shirts in the heat. But when Smith did the same, he was rebuked. His brother said, ''You're a girl child,'' Smith recalled. 'Oh my God, it was like he stabbed me in the heart.' 'I cried for two days because I did not want to be a girl child,' he said. It wasn't until Smith moved to the US and attended college at Skidmore in upstate New York that he met other queer people and came out as a lesbian, finding confidence in a masculine self-presentation. But even though he was part of a burgeoning queer community, his identity was still fraught by the aftereffects of his conservative, religious upbringing: 'I was so worried that the first time I had sex, I actually thought that God was going to strike me down,' he said. When he came out to his mother, she stopped speaking to him for a year. 'It was heartbreaking,' he said. Smith can still remember the first time he met an out trans person, a bartender in New York who was pursuing top surgery (a gender-affirming mastectomy) in California in the 80s – at a time when the gay rights movement was nascent and transgender rights were on the extreme periphery. He was 'blown away' by how the bartender 'was living so freely, and being so expressive,' he said. His own transition – which started when he was 52 after deep soul-searching and years of 'feeling like he was wearing a mask' – gave him the same sense of freedom. 'I felt like I was reborn,' he said. 'For the first time in my life, I felt like I was being truly me.' It's the same freedom that he hopes can be a lesson from trans people for the rest of the world, even as trans people face 'horrible' attacks on their freedoms and rights. 'Trans people teach the rest of society that freedom is real – because we live freedom every day,' he said. 'We live authenticity every day.' Being trans has been the ultimate expression of self-love, he added. 'That's our superpower, is that we love ourselves so much that we're able to make a choice that is for us only,' he said. 'That's the highest form of self-love.' For Pauline Park, attacks on transgender and queer identity are more than just repressive. They also directly contradict a long and rich history of gender variance across the world. 'There have been people like us since the dawn of history,' she told CNN. She pointed to transgender traditions like the hijra community in South Asia and kathoey in Thailand, as well as Guanyin, a figure in Buddhist mythology who is often represented as genderless or as shifting from male to female. 'It's important to recognize that, in the larger span of history, we have existed, and we will continue to exist,' she said. Park's own coming out went hand-in-hand with her work advocating for LGBT rights. Like Ramos and Smith, Park had long known she was trans – but adopted from South Korea into a 'Christian, fundamentalist household' when she was less than a year old, she 'knew instinctively' that her gender identity wasn't something she could discuss with her parents. Even same-sex marriage was 'inconceivable' when she grew up, she said. A career pivot to LGBT activism brought her to lead the campaign for a transgender rights bill in New York City, and she came out and began living as a woman full-time shortly after. 'Actualizing my transgender identity has been instrumental in my ability to bring about social change,' she said. Park cofounded the New York Association for Gender Rights Advocacy and has helped advocate for trans rights across the state. Park has led hundreds of transgender sensitivity trainings, she said, where one of the main goals is to help participants 'realize that when you're talking about transgender, you're actually talking about everyone,' she said. 'Not that everyone is trans, but the issues that transgender people face are issues that are rooted in structural oppressions,' she explained. 'We have to think about society as a whole – and whether we want to make it welcoming and inclusive or not.' That work is particularly important right now, when 'the community is now under unprecedented attack, from the highest leadership in the land,' according to Park. She called transphobia 'one of the last generally acceptable prejudices in our society.' She added that anti-trans legislation will have the most devastating impacts on trans youth. Restrictions on gender-affirming care, she said, won't stop trans youth from pursuing that care – but they might mean that they turn to black market solutions instead of gender-affirming therapy overseen by a doctor. 'People will actualize their identities if they want to, even in the face of legal and structural impediments,' she said. 'The effort to try to eliminate gender-affirming care is going to fail, but it's going to harm a lot of people,' she said. 'It's ultimately both futile and morally reprehensible – and it won't work.' For Justin Vivian Bond, the Trump administration's attacks on nonbinary identity reflect 'willful ignorance' more than anything else. The 62-year-old cabaret performer and actor grew up in the 60s and 70s, when even same-sex marriage seemed a far-off dream. As a child, they were terrified to come out to their family. Today, they're a trailblazer in nonbinary representation and something of an institution in New York City's music and theater scene. 'Some people are so resistant to anything that they don't know that they'll never know me – because they're just too ignorant,' they said. The concept of trans or nonbinary identities might be new to some people, they noted. But 'constant change, constant evolution, is part of being alive,' they went on. 'Otherwise you might as well just, you know, hang up your hat and go home and never leave again — or, in other words, drop dead.' A Maryland native, Bond's own career is a testament to the evolution of queer art and culture. They started their career in San Francisco, performing in trans playwright Kate Bornstein's 'Hidden: A Gender' before developing the legendary character of Kiki, 'a 60-some-year-old alcoholic lounge singer with ex-husbands and children,' one half of the 'Kiki and Herb' cabaret duo in which Bond performed in drag. The over-the-top, enraged character was forged at the height of the AIDS epidemic, through a palpable sense of anger from 'the knowledge that the people in power literally wanted us dead.' Since then, Bond has built a flourishing career as a solo artist, maintaining a years-long residency at Joe's Pub at The Public Theater in NYC and receiving a 2024 MacArthur 'genius grant' for crafting 'performances that center queer joy.' Bond's gender, like their artistic practice, is 'constantly evolving,' they said. After decades playing with gender and performance in their on-stage work and life, they started taking hormone replacement therapy in their 50s. 'Still to this day, I don't like being trapped into any identity, because it's just not something that is fixed,' they explained. Bond's own response to the newest waves of attacks by the Trump administration was one of exasperation and frustration: 'Why do we have to go through this?' But the queer community has survived worse, they said. 'All of our rights were fought for,' they said. 'We've always had ways of working around these patriarchal nimrods, and living our lives and being happy and enjoying each other's company and dancing together and partying together and living together and sleeping together and cooking together.' 'That's not going to stop just because they say we should be unhappy.' Dawn Melody realized that she might be trans later in life – after her son came out first. In 2012, her 12-year-old told her he was transgender. Melody, trusting her children to 'tell [her] who they are,' quickly affirmed his identity, supporting him as he cut his hair and came out to friends and family. 'Watching that young person go on to bravely be who they are' was 'inspiring,' she said. And a few years later, it inspired her own soul-searching. Melody had long harbored an ineffable feeling that 'something was different.' But growing up in an Irish Catholic household in Westchester, New York, being queer was off the table – and 'the idea of transgender, that was like being from another planet,' she told CNN. In her 50s, Melody, still searching for the source of that constant feeling of 'difference,' sought out women's clothes and a wig to test-drive presenting as a woman at home. That first trial felt 'miraculous,' she said. Melody said that she had ultimately been inspired by her son's 'steadfast' commitment to his identity. 'This is me taking the cue from my child that that if you're brave enough to do this, so am I,' she said. When Trump first began signing anti-trans legislation in January, she felt 'nausea.' 'He declared it during his inauguration speech that I don't exist,' she said. 'That I'm undesirable.' Melody framed the executive orders as 'frantically trying to sweep back the sea when the sea can't be swept back.' But 'there's no way to stop progress,' she said. And despite the attacks, being trans is 'the best thing that ever happened to me,' she added. 'I'm glad that I am this way, and I wouldn't change it for all the tea in China,' she said. Living as a woman feels like 'swimming with the current' after decades of fighting to swim across it, she said. She added that she hopes trans youth today can keep faith in themselves despite a wave of anti-trans sentiment and legislation. 'It's not without its moments of horror and fear, but life is such a gift – and it's way too short.'
Yahoo
44 minutes ago
- Yahoo
LA police enforce curfew as protests against Trump's crackdown continue
Los Angeles police swiftly enforced a curfew on Tuesday night, making arrests moments after it took effect while deploying officers to break up a group demonstrating against President Donald Trump's immigration crackdown. Members of the National Guard stood watch behind plastic shields, but did not appear to participate in the arrests. Hours later, many of the protesters had dispersed, although sporadic confrontations continued that were much smaller than in previous nights. Officials said the curfew was necessary to stop vandalism and theft by agitators looking to cause trouble. Democratic governor Gavin Newsom earlier accused Mr Trump of drawing a 'military dragnet' across the nation's second-largest city with his escalating use of the National Guard. He also deployed marines, though none were seen on the streets. Mr Newsom asked a court to put an emergency stop to the military helping federal immigration agents, with some guardsmen now standing in protection around agents as they carried out arrests. He said it would only heighten tensions and promote civil unrest. The judge set a hearing for Thursday, giving the administration several days to continue those activities. The change moves troops closer to engaging in law enforcement actions like deportations as Mr Trump has promised as part of his administration's immigration crackdown. The Guard has the authority to temporarily detain people who attack officers but any arrests ultimately would be made by law enforcement. Mr Trump has activated more than 4,000 National Guard members and 700 marines over the objections of city and state leaders. They were originally deployed to protect federal buildings. Demonstrations have spread to other cities nationwide, including Dallas and Austin, Texas, Chicago and New York, where a thousand people rallied and multiple arrests were made. Mr Trump left open the possibility of invoking the Insurrection Act, which authorises the president to deploy military forces inside the US to suppress rebellion or domestic violence or to enforce the law in certain situations. It is one of the most extreme emergency powers available to a US president. 'If there's an insurrection, I would certainly invoke it. We'll see,' he said from the Oval Office. Later the president called protesters 'animals' and 'a foreign enemy' in a speech at Fort Bragg ostensibly to recognise the 250th anniversary of the US Army. Mr Trump has described Los Angeles in dire terms that Mr Newsom says are nowhere close to the truth. In a public address Tuesday evening, Mr Newsom called Mr Trump's actions the start of an 'assault' on democracy. Mr Newsom warned people against inciting violence, but urged them to stand up to the president's actions. The protests began on Friday after federal immigration raids arrested dozens of workers in Los Angeles. Protesters blocked a major freeway and set cars on fire over the weekend, and police responded with tear gas, rubber bullets and flash-bang grenades. The demonstrations have been mostly concentrated downtown in the city of four million. Thousands of people have peacefully rallied outside City Hall and hundreds more protested outside a federal complex that includes a detention centre where some immigrants are being held following workplace raids.
Yahoo
an hour ago
- Yahoo
Trump's China ‘truce' is nothing of the sort
At long last, the United States has reached a trade agreement with China. Again. After a testy war of words that escalated into a tit-for-tat restriction on key exports, American and Chinese officials this week met in the United Kingdom with a singular goal: Find a way to agree to what they had agreed to a month earlier in Geneva. It appears the countries' top trade negotiators have accomplished that. On Tuesday night, both Chinese and Trump officials said they had agreed to a framework to implement the consensus they reached in May, and the trade truce would be sent to their respective leaders for their approval. Businesses, consumers and Wall Street investors will no doubt breathe a sigh of relief: Burdensome tariffs have raised significant anxiety, and easing trade barriers between the world's two largest economies should lower costs and help inject some much-needed certainty into an economy that has been demonstrating some signs of strain. But in reality, the trade truce – if that's really what was accomplished this time around – is mostly just a return to the already-tense state of affairs from before April 2. Tariff rates from both countries remain historically high, and significant export restrictions remain in place. The United States has not opened its doors to China's autos, nor is it going to sell its high-end AI chips anytime soon. And, in President Donald Trump's parlance, China isn't treating America much more 'fairly' after this agreement than it did before. Without a doubt, a trade agreement was much needed. After Trump's April 2 'Liberation Day' announcements, tensions ran so high that trade between the United States and China came to an effective halt. A 145% tariff on most Chinese imports made the math impossible for US businesses to buy virtually anything from China, America's second-largest trading partner. US Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent, America's chief negotiator in both trade talks with China, said previous tariff levels were 'unsustainable.' On May 12, delegates from China and the United States announced they would significantly roll back their historically high tariffs on one another. Economists pared back their recession forecasts, and moribund consumer confidence rebounded. But Trump and his administration in recent weeks grew increasingly hostile toward China, accusing the country of breaking the promises it made in mid-May. China similarly said the United States failed to live up to its obligations under the Geneva agreement. The Trump administration had expected China to lift restrictions on rare-earth materials that are critical components for a wide range of electronics, but China has only very slowly allowed them to return to the open market, causing intense displeasure inside the Trump administration and prompting a series of export restrictions on US goods to China, three administration officials told CNN last month. China has a virtual monopoly on rare earths, without which cars, jet engines, contrast dye used in MRI machines and some cancer drugs cannot be manufactured. Trump told reporters Friday that Chinese President Xi Jinping had agreed to allow exports of rare earth minerals products to begin, but industry analysts said the crucial materials had not been flowing to the United States as they once had. If both countries satisfy the terms of the agreement this time around, the de-escalation should prevent the direst warnings about the trade war, including potential pandemic-level shortages. Despite the good vibes, the United States and China remain in an economic standoff. The Trump administration – and the Biden administration before it – have maintained that Chinese companies are more than happy to sell inexpensive products to the US market but that China places significant restrictions on US businesses operating in the country and encourages Chinese companies to steal American intellectual property. China has long disputed those claims. Trump, in his first term, raised tariffs on China based on national security concerns. Biden maintained many of those tariffs and doubled down on some. But the second Trump administration has taken trade barriers to an unprecedented level. It has placed a 10% universal tariff on virtually all goods coming into the United States. It put in place an additional 20% tariff on Chinese goods in an effort to get China to take action to reduce the flow of fentanyl over the US border. Both of those extraordinary tariffs remain in place on most Chinese goods, with the exception of some products like electronics. In addition, the White House closed the so-called de minimis exemption that allowed packages with a value of under $800 to come into the United States tariff-free. Hefty new tariffs remain in place on small packages, undermining the business models of Chinese ecommerce giants Shein and Temu. The compounding tariffs create significant trade barriers with America's second-largest trading partner, raising prices for American businesses and consumers with no easy fixes or clear market alternatives. Some gigantic companies, such as Apple, have complex supply chains that can withstand some of the price pressures. But even Apple, which has said it would ship most US iPhones from India as Chinese tariffs rise, said it would face a $900 million quarterly cost increase because of tariffs – at their current levels, not at the sky-high 145% rate. So a trade truce may be better than the alternative – if it lasts this time.