Why This Matters Minnesota’s immigrant communities deserve clarity, not fear. Our state has long stood for fairness and human dignity. But the presence of masked, unidentifiable ICE agents undermines public trust, creates safety risks, and damages the credibility of law-enforcement at all levels. By adopting legislation similar to California’s SB 627 and SB 805, Minnesota can lead the Midwest in upholding civil rights and preventing abuse. We urge you to act swiftly.

If we were at war, recent orders to strike boats in the Caribbean and Pacific would violate U.S. and international law. But we’re not at war, there’s no congressional action authorizing this violence, and these strikes amount to murder. The Trump administration knows it, which is why they’re scrambling to cover up troubling details of a September 2 strike that have lawmakers demanding answers. Defense Secretary Hegseth has recently attempted to justify the strikes that Admiral Bradley carried out under his orders, saying that the shipwrecked survivors clinging to wreckage were “still in the fight.” That claim has been called into question by the handful of lawmakers who have seen footage of the strike, including Rep. Jim Himes (D-CT), who called it “one of the most troubling scenes I’ve ever seen in my time in public service.” It’s evidence the public deserves to see. It’s also a video Pentagon leadership doesn’t want you to see, because Hegseth and his cronies know that support for their lawless campaign is already on the rocks, and could evaporate further once people in the United States see what’s being done in their names. As multiple lawmakers push the Pentagon to release the video, we need to pile on the pressure by urging ALL lawmakers, on both sides of the aisle, to get answers we deserve.

 The purpose of my story is to show why society must rethink how it reacts to teenage crime, especially when the first response is driven by fear rather than belief in growth. My experience shows a difficult truth: a child who commits a terrible act is not permanently broken. The human spirit can learn, change, and rise from its lowest point. Rehabilitation is not theory—it is lived reality, and my life proves redemption is possible even when a person’s greatest mistake feels unforgivable. People should join me in the campaign for reform because this is not only my story. Every person has needed a second chance and a path back into community. When we deny that possibility to children, we deny something essential about humanity. With community support, change becomes possible and humanity is restored. My name is James D. Williams, one of many juvenile lifers in Wisconsin’s adult prison system. In 1997, two months after turning 17, I committed a terrible crime and took a life. I do not offer excuses. My actions came from a misguided code of loyalty, false ideas of strength, and fear. Growing up on Milwaukee’s North side, I was taught that keeping my word meant everything—that loyalty meant pushing feelings aside and never showing weakness. In the moment that changed my life forever, fear and confusion were stronger than reason. I believed I had no other choice. After my arrest, the full weight of my actions crushed me. I hid in my cell, overcome with shame and depression. No one cared about my apologies, not the State, not my victim’s family, and even my own family was shocked. I believed honesty and accountability might bring some relief, but nothing changed. So I buried my emotions and pretended to be strong. At sentencing, I begged the judge to see me as more than the crime—to see a young person capable of change. Instead, I was labeled a “monster” without hope for redemption. At 17, I was sentenced to life with a parole date 101 years away. The judge said my life was over, and I would never be anything more than my worst act. Entering prison, I was legally an adult but emotionally a child. I was isolated, terrified, and overwhelmed by guilt. Panic attacks, depression, and conflict became part of my daily existence. Yet in the middle of all that, I managed to earn my HSED and a vocational certificate. One night, I asked myself what I needed to survive a life in prison, and the answer became psychology. I read books on persuasion and self-help, not to heal, but to control my surroundings. I distanced myself from reality for years, convinced I was unlovable and deserved only pain. My turning point came when I finally entered a true rehabilitation program in my 30s. A program called Challenges and Possibilities introduced me to restorative justice. I learned about the ripple effects of crime—how one violent act spreads pain into families and communities. That understanding forced me to confront the full impact of my actions. I apologized to my family and listened to their pain, facing the truth rather than hiding from it. Even then, shame controlled me. I tried to be the person I believed I should be, and others looked to me for guidance. Helping gave me purpose, but I was still drowning in guilt, believing that endless punishment would somehow create peace. Nothing worked until a short stay in segregation forced me to face myself honestly. There, I read House of Healing, and for the first time, I understood that seeking forgiveness included forgiving myself. It did not erase my crime, but it opened the door to real healing. From that point on, I worked to become the person I wished I had been. I continued my education, reached out to my victim’s family through the Office of Victim Services, and prepared for a future I never expected to have. When the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that juveniles could not be given life without parole, hope returned, even though I feared release because prison was the only world I knew. I filed motions, pursued vocational training, and earned degrees. The legal system offered moments of hope, then disappointment. Reform movements rose and faded. Bills stalled. Promises from officials collapsed. Each time, I had to face the possibility that I might die behind these walls, even after decades of growth. But I never stopped learning, mentoring, and preparing to contribute to society. Programs like the RYTE Program showed me the value of my experience. Speaking to youth about choices and consequences gave meaning to my life. I earned degrees, including a bachelor’s degree with honors, and continued building skills while embracing accountability and service. My story isn’t finished. I continue to study, mentor, create, and work to improve myself. I don’t know how it will end, but I know why it matters: a 17-year-old can commit a terrible act without fully understanding the scale of what he is doing. A child’s brain and worldview are incomplete. Fear, loyalty, and identity overpower consequence and clarity. But that child does not stay frozen in time. He grows. He learns. He matures into someone capable of empathy, purpose, and contribution. Rehabilitation is not about perfection—it is about persistence. It proves that even after the worst mistake, a person can build a meaningful life. My sentencing judge could not see that possibility. But decades later, I stand as proof he was wrong. This campaign is bigger than me. It is about the belief that no young person should be defined forever by their darkest moment. It is about restoring the possibility of redemption. Children deserve a real chance to become the adults they are capable of being. And when we offer that chance, we do more than help individuals—we preserve the values we claim to hold as a society. My story continues, and the work of change continues with it.

A dangerous wave of Israeli settler violence is tearing through the West Bank, with roving gangs rampaging through Palestinian villages, beating residents, torching homes and a mosque, and even assaulting Israeli security forces who arrive to restore order. Five Americans have been killed in the West Bank in just the past two years, including most recently Sayfollah "Saif" Musallet, a 20-year-old from Florida who was visiting family when violent settlers beat him and stopped an ambulance from reaching him. Up until this year, an Executive Order helped prevent violence in the West Bank by sanctioning some of the settlers and organizations that were fueling it. But Trump repealed it on his first day in office, allowing the perpetrators of the uptick in violence we’re seeing today to act with impunity. Now, Congress is mobilizing to enshrine these sanctions through the West Bank Violence Prevention Act (H.R.3045 / S.2667) — which just hit a critical milestone of 100 House cosponsors. With your help, we can flood lawmakers’ inboxes with even more support and push this momentum further to help impose costs on violent settlers in the West Bank.

Predators are targeting Black elderly homeowners — especially women — because they believe no one will protect them. But we will. Our elders built Central Brooklyn. They deserve safety, dignity, and the right to age in place — not displacement through fraud and violence. Add your name. Stand with our elders. Protect Black homes.

“Kill everybody.” This was Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth’s reported order for a September 2 strike, according to a source close to the series of unauthorized bombings in the Caribbean and Pacific. Some would call it a war crime, but a reminder: we are not at war. What Hegseth ordered is simply murder. Disturbing evidence is emerging that these strikes were both plainly criminal and directed from the very top. Now, powerful members of Congress — from both parties — are demanding answers. But this order is just the latest move by an out-of-control official who abuses his power, undermines the rule of law, and actively harms communities here and abroad, and answers aren’t enough. Impeachment is how Congress must check Secretary Hegseth’s reckless actions and stop him from inflicting future harm. Unfortunately, without pressure from constituents, lawmakers are unlikely to act with the urgency necessary to meet the moment. That’s where you come in.

The death of Marchello Woodard in Erie, PA, left his family and the community with unanswered questions and a sense of injustice. Independent oversight is necessary to ensure transparency, fairness, and accountability in how this case is handled.We are concerned about impartiality in this case. The Erie County District Attorney appeared on a public podcast with the parole officer involved in my father’s death. This connection raises questions about a conflict of interest and makes it critical that an independent investigation be conducted to ensure transparency and accountability. Why others should join: • Community trust: When investigations are delayed or unclear, public trust in law enforcement and local officials is eroded. • Accountability: Independent investigation ensures that any misconduct, errors, or mishandling are addressed. • Justice for families: Marchello’s family deserves answers and closure, and your support helps amplify their voice. • Prevent future tragedies: Oversight and transparency can help prevent similar cases in the future. By signing this petition, you are standing with the family and the community to demand that the authorities act responsibly and transparently.

Indigenous communities and allies have long maintained that at Wounded Knee in 1890, U.S. soldiers didn’t fight a battle — they carried out a massacre. One hundred years later, Congress apologized to the descendants of the hundreds killed at Wounded Knee, but even today, 19 soldiers who participated in the atrocity are commended with the highest U.S. military award: the Medal of Honor. For a moment, it seemed a sliver of justice might finally be within reach and the medals would be revoked. In 2022, after decades of fervent organizing and advocacy, Congress and then-Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin began reviewing whether the medals should be rescinded. Earlier this year, Trump’s War Secretary, Pete Hegseth, slammed that door shut: “We’re making it clear [the soldiers] deserve those medals. This decision is now final.” But Hegseth’s wrong — he doesn’t have the final say. Congress can rescind the medals by passing Senator Elizabeth Warren and Representative Jill Tokuda’s Remove the Stain Act (S.1915, H.R.3609). Public pressure is a surefire way that we’ll force lawmakers to act against a misguided Defense Secretary like Pete Hegseth. Please speak out now.

Edgecombe County Manager Eric Evans said in a Nov. 12 interview with the Rocky Mount Telegram that Energy Storage Solutions expects “about 500 jobs” to be created by the project; in Data Center Knowledge, Shaffer said the development will “support more than 1,000 employees.” Evans also stated the sale will be 122 acres, while Shaffer said in Data Center Knowledge that the project will cover 300 acres.  The community group filed a public record request with the Edgecombe County attorney’s office Thursday for copies of the latest version of the project proposal to verify these unconfirmed latest numbers. Lack of information about jobs – how many will actually be created, whether these jobs will be permanent facility-based jobs or temporary construction jobs, and whether Edgecombe County residents will be prioritized in recruiting – is one of many major unknowns that have led activists to oppose of the county’s sale of the land to the developer. Kingsboro/Bulluck community resident and organizer Janice Bulluck said of the upcoming Dec. 1 vote, “I would hope the County Commissioners consider their moral obligation to their constituents with noise pollution, water usage and pollution, and other unknowns.” “In the long term, this is not going to be in the best interest for the residents,” Bulluck said.

This petition aims to bring islamophobic harrassment and attacks to the attention of the University of South Florida administration. They need to speak up about such harrassment, and make it clear that this kind of violence will not be tolerated on campus. They also need to make sure that students feel safe and secure on campus so that they are able to excel and succeed in their studies.

Sign now to demand equal justice for Kevin Epps. For press inquiries or to get involved: Contact: Tobee Chung Vanderwall Phone: 415-939-7895 Email: [email protected]

“This campaign is about more than records. It is about who we choose to protect in this country — and who we leave behind. For decades, the survivors of Jeffrey Epstein were denied the most basic promises America makes to its children: safety, truth, and justice. These women were forced to watch their own trauma become political ammunition, media spectacle, or something to be ignored because too many powerful people were implicated. When a nation fails to protect its most vulnerable, it betrays its own oath. Releasing the remaining records, within the law, matters because: 1. Justice cannot be selective. If justice bends for wealth, power, and influence, then there is no justice at all. What happens in this case sends a message to every girl in America about what her life is worth. 2. Silence has protected predators for far too long. Many individuals connected to Epstein’s abuse are still free, unexamined, and able to continue harming others. Transparency is the first step toward stopping cycles of exploitation. 3. The survivors deserve the truth they were denied. They carried their trauma alone. They lived through a system that failed to protect them. They watched a man who hurt them move through the world with privilege. The least this nation can offer is honesty. 4. Our children are watching. Every day these records remain sealed teaches girls that their safety and truth are negotiable. That is a generational wound. And America cannot allow another generation to inherit that message. 5. Democracy depends on trust in accountability. A society that prioritizes protecting the powerful over the vulnerable erodes the foundation of democracy. Transparency is not optional — it is a patriotic duty. 6. Because America made a promise. Liberty and Justice for All is not a slogan. It is an oath.”