Latest news with #Dobbs
The Hill
3 hours ago
- Health
- The Hill
No, OBGYNs are not systematically fleeing states that banned abortion
The Supreme Court's 2022 Dobbs decision ended decades of national judicial precedent protecting legal abortion. As of today, 12 states enforce bans on nearly all abortions, and seven states are enforcing bans on abortions after six, 12 or 18 weeks' gestation. Also, numerous lawsuits have been filed attempting to restrict abortion access in states where it is still legal. Although obstetricians and gynecologists have always had to operate under the risk of malpractice lawsuits, state-level abortion bans added a new layer of legal risk to delivering established standards of care. In this climate, surveys have revealed evidence of obstetrician-gynecologist in states that have banned abortion feeling constrained or afraid. Reports and studies have documented a decline in OBGYN residency applications to programs located in those states. And numerous media outlets have run stories suggesting that OBGYNs are leaving states with abortion bans to practice where abortion is still legal. Since obstetrician-gynecologist provide many different kinds of care — including contraceptive, delivery and postpartum care — these stories have raised serious concerns about the availability of all forms of reproductive health care throughout much of the country. But in research just published in JAMA Network Open, we and our co-authors find no evidence of such an exodus of obstetrician-gynecologist physicians from states with abortion bans. Using administrative records managed by the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services on all physicians who bill insurance, we looked at the movement of obstetrician-gynecologists between states with different abortion policy environments from just before the Dobbs decision to two years after. Out of all obstetrician-gynecologist who were practicing at the start of 2022 in states with abortion bans, 94.2 percent were still practicing in September 2024. This percentage is statistically indistinguishable from the 94.8 percent of obstetrician-gynecologists who have remained in states where abortion is threatened and the 95.8 percent who have remained in states where it is protected. OBGYNs also continued to move into states with abortion bans at similar rates to other states. From the start of 2018 to the end of 2024, the total number grew by 8.3 percent in states with abortion bans, by 10.5 percent in states where it is threatened and by 7.7 percent in states where it is protected. Trends in the number of practicing obstetrician-gynecologists were also comparable to those in the number of physicians in other specialties in states where abortion is banned. We also considered trends in the practice locations of recent residency graduates and subspecialists in maternal-fetal medicine, as well as trends in the share of OBGYNs who are female and who are licensed to practice in more than one state. All were similar between states, regardless of abortion's legality. Our findings are not unique. In December 2024, an independent group of researchers using a different data set came to the exact same conclusions. And in March, researchers showed that the number of obstetrician-gynecologists in states with bans has increased since Dobbs, though perhaps at a slower rate than in a group of states with mixed status. So why has a narrative that obstetricians are leaving and avoiding states with abortion bans become so prominent? A closer look at the media coverage reveals that different reporters have interviewed the same small handful of 15 or so physicians who left states with bans. Those interviews, coupled with survey evidence on the strain physicians are facing, have led to conclusions that doctors are fleeing states with bans. But it just isn't true. Evidence on trends in residency applications also needs additional context. While states with bans have seen larger declines in obstetrician-gynecologist residency applications than states without bans, nearly all such positions continue to be filled at pre-Dobbs levels. Broader doctor shortage issues that predate the Dobbs decision, including those leading to closures of hospital labor and delivery departments, have been conflated with the effects of the Supreme Court ruling as well. We pursued this research because it is crucial to understand all of the facts to make progress on the availability and quality of reproductive health care. Focusing on a physician exodus that is not actually happening distracts us from addressing the real, plentiful problems with the delivery of medical care. Our findings imply that while removing abortion bans would likely improve the quality of care that obstetricians can provide by giving them the ability to follow established standards of care, it is unlikely to shift the economic and structural forces driving maternal ward closures and doctor shortages. When it comes to the availability of care, those are the forces that deserve policy attention. Our study is by no means the final word. Physicians feeling constrained by abortion bans may be 'sheltering in place' for now, with decisions of where to live and work shaped by other factors. The coming years could well see different trends. But at this point, ensuring high-quality reproductive health care in states affected by abortion bans will require supporting the obstetricians who, at heightened personal risk, continue to provide essential care to the best of their ability. Becky Staiger is an assistant professor in health policy and management in the School of Public Health at the University of California, Berkeley. Valentin Bolotnyy is a Kleinheinz Fellow at Stanford University's Hoover Institution.
Yahoo
3 days ago
- Health
- Yahoo
The Wisconsin Supreme Court will soon make final ruling on abortion. How did we get here?
The state Supreme Court will soon release a highly anticipated ruling about the legality of abortion in Wisconsin, a complicated question since the U.S. Supreme Court's 2022 Dobbs decision sent the issue to the states. Wisconsin reverted to an 1849 statute, but the case before the state Supreme Court asks whether that law specifically bans consensual abortions. The 1849 law has been on hold since a lower court's ruling in December 2023. The state then returned to its pre-Dobbs abortion laws, under which abortion is banned 20 weeks after "probable fertilization." "We're just waiting for a final answer on that," said Bryna Godar, a staff attorney with the State Democracy Research Initiative at the University of Wisconsin Law School. "The current state of the law has been that abortions are legal, subject to other laws we have in the state." Here's a look back at how the case got to the Supreme Court and why this might not be the end of the road for legal challenges over abortion in Wisconsin: The U.S. Supreme Court issued a decision overturning the landmark Roe v. Wade ruling in 1973 that made abortion legal nationwide. In Wisconsin, there was immediate legal uncertainty about whether the 1849 law was enforceable. Planned Parenthood and other providers stopped abortion procedures. Days after the Dobbs decision, Gov. Tony Evers and Attorney General Josh Kaul — both Democrats — filed a lawsuit in Dane County Circuit Court challenging the 1849 law. Dane County Circuit Judge Diane Schlipper heard arguments in the case in May 2023. In a July order, Schlipper signaled she believed the law doesn't apply to consensual abortions but to feticide — a nonconsensual act in which somebody batters a woman, causing her to lose the pregnancy. After that interpretation from Schlipper, Planned Parenthood clinics in Milwaukee and Madison resumed abortions more than a year after pausing them. A clinic in Sheboygan resumed medication abortions in late December 2023. "No court had ruled on this, so it was understandable that providers weren't sure what the state of the law was," Godar said. "But once you have a court ruling on that at any level in the state, then providers have a concrete answer." More: Abortions in Wisconsin halved immediately after Roe was overturned, new CDC report says Schlipper made her official ruling in December, determining the decades-old law doesn't prohibit abortions. While the 1849 law is not in effect, the ruling meant the state reverted to other abortion laws passed in 1985, 2011 and 2015. That includes a ban after 20 weeks, a 24-hour waiting period and requiring abortion-inducing drugs to be given in-person by physicians. Sheboygan County District Attorney Joel Urmanski appealed Schlipper's ruling later that month. The case jumped past appeals courts and went directly to the Supreme Court. The court heard arguments from attorneys for the parties involved in the lawsuit, which include three county district attorneys, physicians and the Wisconsin Department of Safety and Professional Services and Medical Examining Board. The court had a liberal majority at the time of oral arguments, following the election of Justice Janet Protasiewicz in 2023, and kept it in the April 2025 election. Newly elected Justice Susan Crawford, who takes the bench Aug. 1, won't be one of the justices deciding the case. It's been more than six months since the Supreme Court heard oral arguments. That timeline is on the longer side for the court, Godar said, but not abnormal. "It's not unexpected, given the weight and importance of this issue," she said. "It also involves some complicated legal issues, statutory interpretation — it's not surprising that it's taking this long." The court typically issues its opinions by the end of June, which marks the end of its term, but some have come out in July. More: Brad Schimel accused the Wisconsin Supreme Court of slow-walking the 1849 abortion case. Is that happening? For now, yes. The court will settle whether the 1849 statute bans consensual abortions. The case is about that narrow question, rather than determining whether there's a broad constitutional right to abortion in the state. That means the court's decision won't prevent Wisconsin lawmakers from seeking a ban on abortion in the future, Godar noted. Some Republicans have floated banning abortion after 14 weeks and asking voters to weigh in via referendum, but Evers has said he would veto any effort that makes abortion less accessible. More: What to know about referendums in Wisconsin, and why citizens can't petition for them Absolutely. There's a separate case, initiated by Planned Parenthood, asking the state Supreme Court to recognize a constitutional right to bodily autonomy, including abortion. It's not clear if the court will end up taking action on that case. That case is premised around the 1849 law banning abortion. So, if the court decides that law doesn't in fact ban abortions, the claims in the separate case would essentially go away, Godar said. "We could see future cases that argue there is a constitutional right to abortion in Wisconsin and challenge other laws that we have in the state related to abortion," she said. "But those would be a bit more nuanced than challenging an outright ban." That means groups could file specific legal challenges over rules like insurance restrictions, waiting periods or ultrasound requirements. "Even after this case, Wisconsin might continue to have uncertainty," Godar said. This article originally appeared on Milwaukee Journal Sentinel: Wisconsin abortion law ahead of Supreme Court ruling: Where it stands
Yahoo
4 days ago
- General
- Yahoo
The Devastating History of Baby Relinquishment
At New York's Foundling Hospital a policewoman turns an abandoned child over to a staff member. Credit - Orlando—In 2016, Monica Kelsey, a Christian anti-abortion activist, debuted an invention allowing for completely anonymous infant surrender: the Safe Haven Baby Box. A relinquishing parent simply opens the door to the device—now at more than 150 hospitals, health care centers, and fire stations across the United States—and places their newborn in the climate-controlled bassinet. When the parent closes the door, the box locks and a silent alarm alerts responders. Supporters frame baby drop boxes as a beautiful solution for all parties involved—relinquishing parents, infants anonymously surrendered, and families who eventually adopt them. They argue that this innovation protects vulnerable babies from grievous harm, though there is no reliable data to support these assertions. The federal government does not track how frequently babies are surrendered directly to professionals under safe haven laws, which exist in all 50 states, let alone how many babies are left anonymously in drop boxes. Nevertheless, conservative religious groups position safe havens as an alternative to abortion. During arguments in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization, the Supreme Court case that overturned Roe v. Wade, Justice Amy Coney Barrett suggested that safe haven laws 'take care' of the 'problem' of 'the consequences of parenting and the obligations of motherhood that flow from pregnancy.' This framing ignores evidence that 91% of women who are denied abortion in the U.S. choose parenting over adoption or relinquishment. How Online Adoption Ads Prey on Pregnant People Positioning Safe Haven Baby Boxes as a solution to the problem of unwanted pregnancy also ignores important historical lessons about the harms caused by anonymous infant relinquishment. Charitable institutions in our country supported this practice on a much larger scale in the 19th and early 20th centuries, and the results were devastating. While the technology they rely on has been updated for the 21st century, Safe Haven Baby Boxes are a new spin on a very old idea, motivated by religious conservatism and societal policing of women's sexuality and reproduction. The earliest mechanisms for anonymous infant surrender debuted thousands of years ago in Europe. Among the first were so-called 'ruota,' or wheel, systems at Catholic-run hospitals for orphans and foundlings in medieval Italy, where turntables were built into outdoor niches. A parent could place a baby on the turntable outside and rotate it indoors without being identified. Institutions dedicated to the care of so-called "foundlings" and mechanisms like the ruota spread throughout Europe in the medieval and Renaissance periods—especially in Catholic countries that heavily stigmatized extramarital sex—in order to prevent infanticide and care for 'illegitimate' babies surrendered by poor single women seeking to hide the evidence of their supposed sins. Historians now estimate that by the 18th century, as many as one third of babies born in cities in France, Italy, and Spain were abandoned. The foundling trend didn't reach American shores until the mid-19th century, when industrialization and mass migration brought huge numbers of people into cities like New York and, in turn, created conditions under which infant abandonment flourished. If a poor single woman who came to New York to work in an unstable low-wage job became pregnant out of wedlock, shame, stigma, poverty, lack of childcare options, and the anonymity of city living might lead her to leave her infant on a stoop. In the 1860s, four different foundling asylums opened in New York City to care for abandoned children. Among them was the Catholic New York Foundling Hospital, founded by the Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul in 1869. That October, Sister Mary Irene Fitzgibbon, with two other nuns, placed a cradle on the stoop of their brownstone in Manhattan to secretly receive 'illegitimate' babies. That very first night, someone left a baby in the cradle on the stoop. By 1871, they had taken in 2,560 foundlings through the cradle, which was moved into the entryway but still hidden from sight to ensure anonymous surrender. The Catholic New York Foundling Hospital, often referred to as simply "the Foundling," was the only New York asylum that allowed for such secrecy. For decades, the organization received babies in a self-described effort to save their souls and launder the reputations of their poor 'fallen' mothers. In 1880, the charity opened St. Ann's Maternity Hospital, which served unmarried mothers 'seek[ing] shelter and seclusion with hope of preserving character and family reputation,' as the Foundling put it in a biennial report. The newborns would be cared for by the sisters, who baptized them into the Catholic faith. If they lived long enough to become 'run around[s],' the children might be chosen to ride 'baby trains' to go live with new Catholic families in far-flung towns all across the country, a practice that persisted through 1927. Some 30,000 children rode those baby trains. The Foundling came to participate in the orphan train movement because its Protestant counterpart and progenitor of the social engineering experiment, the New York Children's Aid Society (CAS), was seen by Catholic-run charities as 'an unqualified menace that had caused thousands of Catholic children to lose their religion and thus their only hope for eternal salvation.' By sending toddlers off on baby trains, the Foundling worked to preserve the minority Catholic faith against encroachment by Protestant charities like the CAS, ensuring that Catholic culture would be perpetuated and reproduced across the United States. Russia Is Trying to 'Erase' Ukrainian Identity in Captured Territories, European Officials Allege With a secretive system whereby women who 'sinned' by giving birth out of wedlock would be permanently severed from their children, who were then sent to live with new families, the Foundling may have propagated the Catholic faith. But it also harmed the very children it purported to save. The Foundling's own archives at the New York Historical hold evidence of how the organization's practices, which cut children off from basic forms of self-knowledge and from the possibility of ever reconnecting with their birth families, caused lifelong suffering for some baby train riders. Nestled into folders of correspondence to the Foundling from the 1980s and 1990s are requests from former riders, now elderly, seeking vital information about themselves and their families of origin. Some riders were hoping for details that would make sense of their medical histories. In 1994, a rider named Sylvia Wolk who was born in 1918, wrote asking for whatever information the charity had on her parents, an urgent request, as she and her brother, Joseph, were 'both in poor health, in their seventies, and under a doctor's care.' Sylvia wrote that she was 'desperately seeking truth before Joseph dies.' After a lifetime apart, Sylvia and her brother had reunited in 1989—and not through the Foundling. Instead, the siblings reconnected after Sylvia's search for her long-lost brother was featured on an episode of the television show Unsolved Mysteries. Joseph died in 1996, likely without ever learning the 'truth' about his ancestry from the Foundling. Other letters illustrate the frustration riders felt in the charity's withholding of basic details about their lives. Helen Macior, who was born in 1913 and rode a baby train to Illinois in 1915, wrote in a 1994 request form that she was seeking information 'to learn who I am.' The next year, she sent another letter: 'Seven months have elapsed, and nary a word. This in addition to the last five years of correspondence. . . . If there is one thing I strongly believe, every human being is entitled to know from whence they came, be it good or bad.' Yet the Foundling's system was entirely presaged on the idea that some people's origins need to be concealed. The tension between the Foundling's desire to keep unwed mothers' identities secret and the desire of former baby train riders to know about their origins foreshadows a central conundrum of modern adoption: the difficulty that adoptive children face in accessing information about their birth parents. The nationwide practice of sealing original birth certificates of adoptees and issuing revised documents that list the names of adoptive parents keeps secrecy alive. But that is changing—thanks to the efforts of adopted people and birth parents in recent years, adoptees in 15 states now have the right to access their original birth certificates. The conservative movement for anonymous infant relinquishment and supporters of Safe Haven Baby Boxes ignore this history and create a system that makes it difficult—if not impossible—for child and parent to ever learn the truth about one another. Babies surreptitiously left in such drop boxes will likely never have accurate birth certificates, and relinquishing parents swiftly lose their parental rights and any chance of legally reclaiming or reconnecting with their children. History has already taught us the harms of withholding self-knowledge and the possibility of reunification. It is past time we learn these lessons. Kristen Martin is the author of The Sun Won't Come Out Tomorrow: The Dark History of American Orphanhood. Made by History takes readers beyond the headlines with articles written and edited by professional historians. Learn more about Made by History at TIME here. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of TIME editors. Write to Made by History at madebyhistory@
Time Magazine
4 days ago
- Politics
- Time Magazine
The Devastating History of Baby Relinquishment
In 2016, Monica Kelsey, a Christian anti-abortion activist, debuted an invention allowing for completely anonymous infant surrender: the Safe Haven Baby Box. A relinquishing parent simply opens the door to the device—now at more than 150 hospitals, health care centers, and fire stations across the United States—and places their newborn in the climate-controlled bassinet. When the parent closes the door, the box locks and a silent alarm alerts responders. Supporters frame baby drop boxes as a beautiful solution for all parties involved—relinquishing parents, infants anonymously surrendered, and families who eventually adopt them. They argue that this innovation protects vulnerable babies from grievous harm, though there is no reliable data to support these assertions. The federal government does not track how frequently babies are surrendered directly to professionals under safe haven laws, which exist in all 50 states, let alone how many babies are left anonymously in drop boxes. Nevertheless, conservative religious groups position safe havens as an alternative to abortion. During arguments in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization, the Supreme Court case that overturned Roe v. Wade, Justice Amy Coney Barrett suggested that safe haven laws 'take care' of the 'problem' of 'the consequences of parenting and the obligations of motherhood that flow from pregnancy.' This framing ignores evidence that 91% of women who are denied abortion in the U.S. choose parenting over adoption or relinquishment. Positioning Safe Haven Baby Boxes as a solution to the problem of unwanted pregnancy also ignores important historical lessons about the harms caused by anonymous infant relinquishment. Charitable institutions in our country supported this practice on a much larger scale in the 19th and early 20th centuries, and the results were devastating. While the technology they rely on has been updated for the 21st century, Safe Haven Baby Boxes are a new spin on a very old idea, motivated by religious conservatism and societal policing of women's sexuality and reproduction. The earliest mechanisms for anonymous infant surrender debuted thousands of years ago in Europe. Among the first were so-called 'ruota,' or wheel, systems at Catholic-run hospitals for orphans and foundlings in medieval Italy, where turntables were built into outdoor niches. A parent could place a baby on the turntable outside and rotate it indoors without being identified. Institutions dedicated to the care of so-called "foundlings" and mechanisms like the ruota spread throughout Europe in the medieval and Renaissance periods—especially in Catholic countries that heavily stigmatized extramarital sex—in order to prevent infanticide and care for 'illegitimate' babies surrendered by poor single women seeking to hide the evidence of their supposed sins. Historians now estimate that by the 18th century, as many as one third of babies born in cities in France, Italy, and Spain were abandoned. The foundling trend didn't reach American shores until the mid-19th century, when industrialization and mass migration brought huge numbers of people into cities like New York and, in turn, created conditions under which infant abandonment flourished. If a poor single woman who came to New York to work in an unstable low-wage job became pregnant out of wedlock, shame, stigma, poverty, lack of childcare options, and the anonymity of city living might lead her to leave her infant on a stoop. In the 1860s, four different foundling asylums opened in New York City to care for abandoned children. Among them was the Catholic New York Foundling Hospital, founded by the Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul in 1869. That October, Sister Mary Irene Fitzgibbon, with two other nuns, placed a cradle on the stoop of their brownstone in Manhattan to secretly receive 'illegitimate' babies. That very first night, someone left a baby in the cradle on the stoop. By 1871, they had taken in 2,560 foundlings through the cradle, which was moved into the entryway but still hidden from sight to ensure anonymous surrender. The Catholic New York Foundling Hospital, often referred to as simply "the Foundling," was the only New York asylum that allowed for such secrecy. For decades, the organization received babies in a self-described effort to save their souls and launder the reputations of their poor 'fallen' mothers. In 1880, the charity opened St. Ann's Maternity Hospital, which served unmarried mothers 'seek[ing] shelter and seclusion with hope of preserving character and family reputation,' as the Foundling put it in a biennial report. The newborns would be cared for by the sisters, who baptized them into the Catholic faith. If they lived long enough to become 'run around[s],' the children might be chosen to ride 'baby trains' to go live with new Catholic families in far-flung towns all across the country, a practice that persisted through 1927. Some 30,000 children rode those baby trains. The Foundling came to participate in the orphan train movement because its Protestant counterpart and progenitor of the social engineering experiment, the New York Children's Aid Society (CAS), was seen by Catholic-run charities as 'an unqualified menace that had caused thousands of Catholic children to lose their religion and thus their only hope for eternal salvation.' By sending toddlers off on baby trains, the Foundling worked to preserve the minority Catholic faith against encroachment by Protestant charities like the CAS, ensuring that Catholic culture would be perpetuated and reproduced across the United States. With a secretive system whereby women who 'sinned' by giving birth out of wedlock would be permanently severed from their children, who were then sent to live with new families, the Foundling may have propagated the Catholic faith. But it also harmed the very children it purported to save. The Foundling's own archives at the New York Historical hold evidence of how the organization's practices, which cut children off from basic forms of self-knowledge and from the possibility of ever reconnecting with their birth families, caused lifelong suffering for some baby train riders. Nestled into folders of correspondence to the Foundling from the 1980s and 1990s are requests from former riders, now elderly, seeking vital information about themselves and their families of origin. Some riders were hoping for details that would make sense of their medical histories. In 1994, a rider named Sylvia Wolk who was born in 1918, wrote asking for whatever information the charity had on her parents, an urgent request, as she and her brother, Joseph, were 'both in poor health, in their seventies, and under a doctor's care.' Sylvia wrote that she was 'desperately seeking truth before Joseph dies.' After a lifetime apart, Sylvia and her brother had reunited in 1989—and not through the Foundling. Instead, the siblings reconnected after Sylvia's search for her long-lost brother was featured on an episode of the television show Unsolved Mysteries. Joseph died in 1996, likely without ever learning the 'truth' about his ancestry from the Foundling. Other letters illustrate the frustration riders felt in the charity's withholding of basic details about their lives. Helen Macior, who was born in 1913 and rode a baby train to Illinois in 1915, wrote in a 1994 request form that she was seeking information 'to learn who I am.' The next year, she sent another letter: 'Seven months have elapsed, and nary a word. This in addition to the last five years of correspondence. . . . If there is one thing I strongly believe, every human being is entitled to know from whence they came, be it good or bad.' Yet the Foundling's system was entirely presaged on the idea that some people's origins need to be concealed. The tension between the Foundling's desire to keep unwed mothers' identities secret and the desire of former baby train riders to know about their origins foreshadows a central conundrum of modern adoption: the difficulty that adoptive children face in accessing information about their birth parents. The nationwide practice of sealing original birth certificates of adoptees and issuing revised documents that list the names of adoptive parents keeps secrecy alive. But that is changing—thanks to the efforts of adopted people and birth parents in recent years, adoptees in 15 states now have the right to access their original birth certificates. The conservative movement for anonymous infant relinquishment and supporters of Safe Haven Baby Boxes ignore this history and create a system that makes it difficult—if not impossible—for child and parent to ever learn the truth about one another. Babies surreptitiously left in such drop boxes will likely never have accurate birth certificates, and relinquishing parents swiftly lose their parental rights and any chance of legally reclaiming or reconnecting with their children. History has already taught us the harms of withholding self-knowledge and the possibility of reunification. It is past time we learn these lessons. Kristen Martin is the author of
Yahoo
5 days ago
- General
- Yahoo
DHS, FBI warn large-scale events could be target for violence
The Department of Homeland Security and FBI are warning that large-scale events are prime targets for violence, highlighting the potential for violence at events this summer. However, the DHS and FBI did not indicate there are any known threats in a joint intelligence bulletin sent to law enforcement on May 23. "Violent extremist messaging continues to highlight major sporting and cultural events and venues as potential targets, and threat actors -- including domestic violent extremists (DVEs), homegrown violent extremists (HVEs) inspired by Foreign Terrorist Organizations (FTOs), and other mass casualty attackers not motivated by an ideology -- previously have targeted public events with little to no warning," according to the bulletin. MORE: FBI reopens investigation into cocaine at White House, leaked Dobbs opinion Some attacks, such as the New Year's Day truck attack in New Orleans, could serve as inspiration for future attacks, the bulletin said, noting that calls for violence typically increase in the days leading up to holidays or big events. Domestic and homegrown extremists "not primarily motivated by an ideology, likely will see public events as potential attack targets, given the number of high-profile events this summer that are expected to draw large crowds and recent attacks and plots in the West targeting mass gatherings, which could serve as inspiration," the bulletin said. "We advise government officials and private sector security partners to remain vigilant of potential threats to upcoming public celebrations and large gatherings," it added, highlighting World Pride 2025, Independence Day and the 250th Army anniversary parade as possible targets. MORE: Questions raised whether security adequate after shooting of Israeli Embassy staffers The bulletin also said some attackers could use a variety of means to carry out an attack. "Attackers in the United States historically have used a variety of tactics to target public events, including vehicles, firearms, and improvised explosive devices (IEDs)," it said. "The use of vehicle-ramming alone or in conjunction with other tactics, such as edged weapons, firearms, or IEDs used after the vehicle has stopped, is a recurring tactic that a variety of threat actors in the West have employed when targeting crowded pedestrian areas." Last week's shooting that targeted Israeli Embassy staffers and killed two in Washington, D.C., could inspire other attacks in the United States, the DHS said in a separate bulletin obtained by ABC News. "The 21 May attack that killed two Israeli embassy staff members at an event in Washington, DC, underscores how the Israel-HAMAS conflict continues to inspire violence and could spur radicalization or mobilization to violence against targets perceived as supporting Israel," according to the bulletin, which was also dated May 23. MORE: Trump pardons Virginia sheriff convicted of federal bribery charges The department noted that it has seen online users sharing the suspect's alleged writings and "praising the shooter and generally calling for more violence." "If calls for violence continue, particularly if other violent extremists in the Homeland or abroad reference the Capital Jewish Museum shooter, our concern for additional violence in the Homeland would increase," the bulletin said. The suspect in the fatal shooting last Wednesday outside an event at the Capital Jewish Museum in Washington, D.C., is a 31-year-old Chicago man who police say shouted "free, free Palestine" following the attack. The suspect, identified as Elias Rodriguez, was promptly taken into custody at the scene of the shooting and was questioned by police, according to Pamela Smith, chief of the Metropolitan Police Department of the District of Columbia. DHS, FBI warn large-scale events could be target for violence originally appeared on
