TIME Crime

Ferguson Erupts Again as Protests Turn to Violence

Ferguson Lowenstein
Protestors help a man who was injured by tear gas thrown by police after refusing to disperse after the midnight curfew in Ferguson, Mo. on Aug. 17, 2014. Jon Lowenstein—Noor for TIME

Demonstrators defied a state-imposed curfew, triggering skirmishes that critically wounded one man and left seven others arrested

Violence flared again overnight in Ferguson, Mo., as a state-imposed midnight curfew drew protests and then running clashes between dozens of people and heavily armed police. The skirmishes left one man in critical condition with a gunshot wound and seven others arrested.

In a lengthy standoff that stretched deep into the early morning hours, police hurled smoke bombs and tear gas at protesters who defied calls from community leaders to comply with the curfew and occupied a main thoroughfare in this St. Louis suburb. Ferguson has seen sustained demonstrations in the week since Michael Brown, a young resident, was shot to death by a Ferguson police officer.

The gunshot wound victim was transported to a nearby hospital in critical condition, said Ron Johnson, the Missouri State Highway Patrol Captain presiding over the operation. The seven people arrested were charged with “failure to disperse,” he said.

The confrontation began shortly after 12:30 a.m. on Sunday morning, just hours after Missouri Governor Jay Nixon declared a state of emergency and imposed a midnight-to-5 a.m. local curfew in an effort to curb the chaos that has roiled Ferguson in the wake of Brown’s death.

Advancing in riot gear, with gas-mask clad officers and armored tanks, police attempted to disperse the small crowd as a defensive measure, Johnson said. Police received reports that armed protesters had holed up in a barbecue joint on West Florissant Avenue, the business strip that has hosted rolling protests, including multiple nights of looting, Johnson said.

In addition, Johnson said police received intelligence that at least one person had climbed onto the roof of the restaurant, while another brandished a handgun in the middle of the road. Some also hurled bottles.

Fearing for the safety of officers, Johnson said, police deployed smoke canisters and tear gas to clear the street before and during their advance. Plumes of smoke wafted into the air, stinging the nostrils and eyes of reporters huddled off the street, between the protesters and police.

A police patrol car was fired upon during the standoff, Johnson said, but no officers were injured and it is unclear whether the vehicle was struck. Multiple gunshots were exchanged during the roughly two-hour operation, though it was not immediately clear who had fired them.

The deployment of tactical weaponry was “not related to the enforcement of the curfew,” Johnson told reporters in a 3 a.m. news conference at the police operational command center in a nearby shopping strip. The response to the threat was “proper,” he said, but added: “I was disappointed.”

Many members of the community tried to prevent the blowup, which was the latest setback for a town trying to move beyond unrest. The vast majority of the crowd, hundreds strong, that initially gathered were peaceful. As on Friday, the clashes were caused by a small faction who had vowed all day to defy the curfew. As the clock ticked toward midnight and the specter of mass arrests and violence loomed, a tense and frenzied scene unfolded.

Police quietly stood sentry in front of the thoroughfare’s shops. Pastors and community leaders huddled in the parking lot of a McDonald’s, debating the most effective way to convince peaceful demonstrators that the wisest course of action was to obey the curfew and return the next day. A state senator with a megaphone loudly urged the crowd to scatter. Legal advocates passed out sheets of paper containing instructions and contact information in the event of mass arrests. People arranged several cars into a makeshift barricade in the middle of the street in an attempt to block a small, restive group from advancing on the police line several hundred yards away.

“We have to regulate ourselves, police ourselves,” said Paul Muhammed, one of several community leaders who appointed themselves unofficial “Peacekeepers,” wearing black T-shirts bearing the word and urging compliance with the governor’s order.

Whether it was the community push or the drenching rain, the crowd thinned considerably as it approached midnight. In the end, only about several dozen protesters stayed to defy the curfew, including an aggressive cluster of young men that many community members said were out-of-town troublemakers.

But those who remained were intent on squaring off against a police force. Some of them expressed outrage at the handling of the Brown case by police. Ferguson residents have accused the local police of racial profiling, bullying and brutality and have been incensed by the lack of charges brought against Darren Wilson, the Ferguson cop who shot Brown to death last Saturday. At one point, about an hour before curfew, a furious protester with a bandana covering his mouth accosted Johnson, demanding to know why Wilson had not been brought up on charges. “I need an answer, sir!” he screamed.

It became clear that a standoff was inevitable, with the remaining protesters convinced that heeding the order would be a sign of capitulation. “They armed. We armed,” shouted one member of a group massed near the burned-out convenience store that has become a de facto town square over the past week. “Let’s do this.”

Reverend Cleo Willis, one of many community leaders who spent hours imploring protesters to obey the curfew and disperse, was in the thick of the crowd when officers began advancing. Just before the first smoke bombs were launched, Willis said he watched several young men strip off their shirts and lie down in the middle of the street to await the advancing police line. “We’re ready to die,” one said, according to Willis.

“I’m staying here because this is bigger than me,” said Markis Thompson, 26, of Ferguson. “I’m sacrificing myself for the cause.”

TIME Crime

Ferguson Erupts Again After Spell of Calm

Peaceful protests in the town gave way to fresh unrest after midnight, as bands of people began looting local stores

Updated, Aug.16, 3:55 a.m. ET

Tensions flared anew on the main thoroughfare of Ferguson, Mo. early Saturday morning, after hundreds of protestors gathered for a day of raucous yet peaceful protests to demand justice for Michael Brown, the 18-year-old whose fatal shooting at the hands of a local police officer kindled riots earlier in the week between angry residents and an aggressive police force.

Police tried in vain to disperse a crowd of protesters who refused to clear West Florissant Avenue shortly after midnight, according to the St Louis Post-Dispatch. A lengthy standoff ensued. After protesters faced off with a line of police, small bands of people broke off from the crowd and looted a few stores along the street as other protesters sought to block them, the newspaper reported. Police held their line and cordoned off all entrances to the area by 2 a.m. as they repeatedly warned the crowd to go home or be subjected to arrest. A TIME reporter returning to the scene was prevented from accessing the area.

It was a marked departure from a few hours earlier. Until that point, it had been the second night in a row that the protests went off largely without incident. Under spitting rain, protestors gathered along the street toting signs, honking horns, playing music and shouting chants, mingling with uniformed police for stretches of the evening, a drastic departure from the clashes earlier this week.

The shift was spurred in large part by the appointment of a new officer in charge, Missouri State Highway Patrol Captain Ronald Johnson. After scores of residents criticized the paramilitary approach of local police, Johnson has adopted a conciliatory tack, abandoning the heavy weaponry and circulating through the crowds to discuss protesters’ concerns.

Amid the rage vented this week at what demonstrators say is rampant police brutality and profiling, it was striking to see a cop become a beloved figure. But Johnson strolled through the crowd like an A-list celebrity on the red carpet, high-fiving young men and obliging requests for selfies. The captain said that he hopes to turn tensions of the past week into a national example of how police can restore trust with an African-American-American community that says it is targeted by Ferguson’s nearly all-white police force.

“Ferguson has an opportunity to help make positive changes for communities everywhere,” Johnson told TIME Friday.

Earlier in the day, fears rose that the Ferguson police department’s release of an incident report alleging Brown had been involved in a robbery prior to his shooting would rekindle the riots. But Brown’s family and attorneys pleaded for calm, and the crowd at first heeded the advice.

For much of the night, the demonstrations resembled an outdoor festival, with protesters drumming, dancing and singing as they sought shelter from the rain under a gas-pump overhang. Protesters ordered delivery pizza by the dozens, joined their kids as they scrawled on the sidewalk with colored chalk and organized booths for causes like voter registration.

Even celebrities materialized. Jesse Jackson held a vigil, and former NFL defensive back Demetrious Johnson, who grew up in inner-city St. Louis, chatted with local police. “I like the way it is going tonight, just like last night,” Johnson said. “Before, police were making the situation worse. They violated some [protesters’] civil rights and created chaos with their intimidation.” Johnson said he would be coordinating a clean-up at the gas station on Saturday with local high-school football players. “These kids want to be a part of something,” he said. “They want to make a difference.”

Like nights past, crowds spilled into the main street, dangling out of car windows with their hands in the air. Unlike most other nights, protesters smiled and laughed with each other–and for much of the evening, the police as well. But the late escalation was a reminder that this St. Louis suburb may be a powder keg for some time.

This story was updated to reflect events that occurred after it was published.

TIME Crime

Ferguson Cops Tell Their Side of the Story

Outrage In Missouri Town After Police Shooting Of 18-Yr-Old Man
Demetrus Washington joins other demonstrators protesting the shooting death of teenager Michael Brown in Ferguson, Mo. on Aug. 14, 2014. Scott Olson—Getty Images

After a long wait, police release the name of the officer, but allegations that Michael Brown was a robbery suspect may renew tensions

Updated at 5:30 p.m. ET

When the Ferguson, Mo. police released on Friday the name of the officer who shot Michael Brown to death six days earlier, they may have hoped to defuse the tensions that have exploded into violence in this St. Louis suburb. Instead, they appear to have fostered more suspicion and confusion.

At the same time that the local officials bowed to protesters’ demands to identify the officer, they also released new details about an alleged robbery at a convenience store in which Brown was identified as a suspect. But the account of the events that allegedly preceded the fatal confrontation included no new information on the shooting itself, which took place some ten minutes after the robbery. Indeed, hours later, the Ferguson police themselves said the robbery had nothing to do with the confrontation between Brown and the officer.

As a result, the documents threaten to undo recent progress in law enforcement’s relationship with the community they serve.

After resisting for several days, Thomas Jackson, the Ferguson police chief, identified Darren Wilson, a six-year veteran of the force, as the officer who shot Brown. Speaking at a news conference Friday morning in the parking lot of a burned-out convenience store, Jackson said Wilson had no prior disciplinary record and was treated for injuries sustained during the incident.

Ferguson police also provided documents to reporters that appeared to indicate that Brown was confronted by Wilson after the 18-year-old was identified as a suspect in a “strong-arm” robbery.

According to the Ferguson Police Department incident report, an officer received a call at 11:51 a.m. on Saturday while responding to a report of a sick resident at an apartment complex. The call indicated that a robbery was in progress at the convenience store. The dispatcher provided a description of the suspect, who according to the documents was identified as a black male in a white T-shirt, walking north on West Florissant Avenue, a main thoroughfare in Ferguson.

Not seeing the suspect, the officer returned to the convenience store, where he spoke to a patron who had witnessed the scene after exiting the bathroom. According to the account of the witness, whose name is redacted, she saw Brown ask a store employee for several boxes of cigars. Then he allegedly grabbed a box of Swisher Sweets—worth approximately $49, according to the documents—and handed it to his companion, identified in the report as Dorian Johnson.

According to the documents, the store employee told Brown he had to pay for the item. At that point, according to the witness account, Brown grabbed several packs of cigars and tried to leave the store. According to the witness’s account, the store employee attempted to block Brown’s exit. Someone—the person’s name is redacted in the report—called 911.

“That is when Brown grabbed [redacted] by the shirt and forcefully pushed him back into a display rack,” the report states. Surveillance camera still-images included in the documents purport to show the suspect grabbing a man, apparently the store employee, near the collar in an aggressive fashion.

According to the documents, surveillance footage reviewed by police shows Brown menacing the store employee. “An apparent struggle or confrontation seems to take place with Brown, however it is obscured by the display case,” the report says, adding that Brown “aggressively pulls [redacted] in close to him and then immediately pushes him back in to a display rack.”

About seven minutes later, at 12:01 p.m., Wilson encountered Brown on Canfield Drive, Chief Jackson told reporters. Moments later, Brown was dead, his body lying in the street. The events surrounding the shooting itself remain unclear.

A Ferguson police spokesman could not be reached after the morning press event to answer further questions about the report or whether a similar account of the shooting itself would be forthcoming. But by mid-afternoon, Jackson was walking back the connection between Wilson, the robbery and the shooting of Michael Brown, indicating that the officer who responded to the scene of the robbery was not Wilson, but another Ferguson policeman.

“This robbery does not relate to the initial contact between the officer and Michael Brown,” Jackson told reporters Friday afternoon. Jackson said Wilson initially stopped Brown and a friend who was with him because they were walking down the middle of the street “blocking traffic.” Wilson was in the area after responding to another unrelated call nearby, Jackson said.

When questioned about his decision to release a video to the public showing a man purported to be Michael Brown apparently attacking and threatening a convenience store clerk while committing a robbery, Jackson said he made the tape public after numerous requests from the media under the Freedom of Information Act. “All I did was release the video tape to you because I had to,” he said.

For all its ambiguities, the Ferguson police account, provided to reporters by a police representative, represents the force’s fullest attempt yet to tell its side of the events preceding Brown’s shooting, which touched off five days of violent clashes here this week, as heavily armed police clad in riot gear hurled tear gas canisters and shot rubber bullets into angry crowds. It may be an attempt to present an alternative portrait of Brown, who has been portrayed by family as a “meek” and “soft-spoken” young man. “A gentle giant,” his cousin, Eric Davis, said Thursday. “He would flee from fear.”

In a statement released Thursday after the Ferguson police chief’s press event, the family and lawyers of Michael Brown released a statement saying they were outraged at the handling of the issue. “The prolonged release of the officer’s name and then the subsequent alleged information regarding a robbery is the reason why the family and the local community have such distrust for the local law enforcement agencies,” the statement said.

At a press conference late Friday afternoon, lawyers for the family admitted that it appeared to be Brown on the surveillance tape of the robbery released by the police, and said that Brown was not a perfect kid. The lawyers said the effort was a “strategic” move by the police to distract attention from the shooting. “What happened in the 18 years before [the shooting] does not matter,” one of the attorneys, Anthony Gray said.

Others were also critical of the Ferguson police’s handling of the disclosure. “I was not in the loop,” Missouri State Highway Patrol Capt. Ronald Johnson, who was installed Thursday to run the police response to the situation, said at a news conference Friday. “I learned about it when you did.” Johnson that he planned to voice his frustration to Ferguson officials in person and to analyze the report in an effort to address the community’s concerns.

The police’s decision to release an account of the alleged robbery at the same time they divulged Wilson’s name could be a mistake, said a federal law enforcement source. Dozens of protesters massed at the QwikTrip, angrily denouncing the Ferguson police, and gathered at the news conferences to express displeasure at Jackson, the Ferguson police chief. “We don’t need people like that in charge,” said Michelle Foster, 47. “I might not live to see the day when we, as a black community, trust the police.”

With reporting from Kristina Sauerwein/Ferguson

TIME Crime

Tensions Cool in Ferguson After Days of Violence

Ferguson Peaceful Protest
After several days of violent protests and intense confrontations between local police and protestors, the police decided to pull back and allow the protestors to march peacefully and protest, Ferguson, Mo., Aug. 14, 2014. Jon Lowenstein—Noor for TIME

Change in police leadership and tactics brings a change in mood

Ron Johnson marched down the center of West Florissant Avenue, trailed by a crowd of raucous protesters as he weaved through a scene of orderly chaos.

Hour after hour on Thursday night, a crush of cars teeming with people inched down the main drag of riot-racked Ferguson, Mo. Protesters flooded the street and sidewalks, hung out the doors of their vehicles, climbed up through their sun roofs and onto the hoods. A cacophony of car horns mixed with chanted slogans and blaring music. Men with bandanas and Guy Fawkes masks streamed through the streets, denouncing the police at the top of their lungs.

For five restive nights, this suburban strip has been the site of gruesome clashes between the nearly all-white local police force and the town’s mostly black inhabitants. After Saturday’s fatal shooting of Michael Brown, an unarmed black teenager shot to death by a local police officer, this St. Louis suburb has been a disaster zone, with violent altercations punctuated by tear gas and rubber bullets.

But the scene on Thursday was a dramatic departure: a peaceful—if extremely chaotic—demonstration that had the vibe of a street party. And some of the credit should go to Johnson, an African-American captain with the Missouri State Highway Patrol who was appointed Thursday by Gov. Jay Nixon to assume control of a situation that had veered badly out of hand. With the change in leadership came a change in tactics. Gone were the gas masks, the armored SWAT tanks and the semiautomatic weapons trained on angry crowds. There were no barricade lines, no cops in riot gear. For long stretches of the night, there were barely any police in sight at all.

But there was Johnson, striding through the crowd in his blue uniform, approaching groups and glad-handing as if the contentious scene were a reunion of old acquaintances. “This is my family. These are my friends,” he said. “And I’m making new friends here tonight.”

Sweat pouring off his temples, he stopped to kibitz with a crowd of teens crammed into a car, interrogated a man about his motorcycle and clapped a hand on women’s shoulders. He was engulfed by the crowd.

“I think we all trust each other tonight,” Johnson told TIME. “Because we’re talking from the heart. They’re telling me what they want and what they feel, and I’m telling them what I’m feeling.”

After five days of aggression and confrontation, the hands-off approach inspired a joyous scene. Outside the QuikTrip convenience store—now a hollowed black shell after looters incinerated the store—a man toasted the assembled crowd with a martini glass. A youth dance troupe called “Diamond Hearts” chanted cheers. Toddlers scampered around in superhero pajamas, and mothers cradled their children and tucked them into strollers. “This is how it should have been,” said protester Richard Harrison of the rowdy but peaceful affair.

“It’s turning around,” said Damon Rose, 30, a truck driver from Ferguson. “You feel like this is now being handled by somebody who wants to hear what you have to say.”

This was the change that Nixon had in mind when he pulled overmatched and hostile city and county cops off a situation spiraling out of control. “This is a place where people work, go to school, raise their families and go to church,” Nixon said during a news conference. “But lately it’s looked a little bit more like a war zone and that’s unacceptable.”

The clashes had threatened to engulf national elected officials. President Barack Obama interrupted his vacation in Martha’s Vineyard on Thursday to decry both the protesters’ violence and the heavy-handed tactics of local police. “There is never an excuse for violence against police, or for those who would use this tragedy as a cover for vandalism or looting,” Obama said. “There’s also no excuse for police to use excessive force against peaceful protests, or to throw protestors in jail for lawfully exercising their First Amendment rights.”

In interviews, protesters pointed to the changing tactics as a key ingredient in defusing the tension. “It is less oppressive,” said Aaron Jackson, 45, a regular protester who lives in a nearby apartment complex. “We have a chance to go down in the history books, in a positive way.”

The community is far from out of the woods. As the night dragged on, there were isolated incidents of violence. TIME reporters met a 21-year-old college student from nearby Washington University in St. Louis who had been punched, unprovoked, by an assailant. His mobile phone was stolen in the attack. The victim had bruises and fresh blood on his face, and several witnesses corroborated his story. He declined to give his name or be photographed, saying he had attended several nights of protests and did not want to taint the fight for justice. A photographer for a local news station was reportedly assaulted as well.

It was a scene one almost never sees in the U.S., a strange mix of order and anarchy, giddiness and anger. Protesters calmly sipped drinks and goofed around on the sidewalk, chanting “Hands Up, Don’t Shoot.” A makeshift vehicle sputtered down the street, its grill adorned with the face of Thomas the Tank Engine and a banner that read “Stop Killing Us.” The festive atmosphere felt capable of curdling given the right provocation.

But after five bad nights it was a big step in the right direction—and, one hopes, a sign of things to come.

— Additional reporting by Kristina Sauerwein / Ferguson, Mo.

TIME Crime

A Mix of Hope and Anger at Peaceful Ferguson Vigil

Protesters light candles as they take part in a peaceful demonstration, as communities react to the shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri August 14, 2014.
Protesters light candles, as communities react to the shooting of Michael Brown, in Ferguson, Mo., on Aug. 14, 2014 Lucas Jackson—Reuters

Police and a diverse group of citizens held a peaceful vigil and moment of silence for Michael Brown

At 6:20 p.m. Thursday, the crowd bowed their heads and the chants went silent. They were hundreds strong, black and white and Asian, some tattooed, some clean-cut, wearing business casual and Cardinals gear and homemade red armbands in honor of the dead. Standing under the Gateway Arch, an iconic symbol of America’s promise, they raised their hands to the sky in tribute to Michael Brown, the young black teenager whose fatal shooting Saturday in a St. Louis suburb has opened deep wounds and turned a placid suburb into a war zone.

But this scene, one of dozens of vigils organized around the U.S. on Thursday to protest police brutality, looked nothing like the apocalyptic images filtering out of Ferguson, Mo., just a short drive away. There were no clouds of tear gas and no clashes between citizens and cops, who carried no heavy weapons and stood quietly at the fringes of the crowd. The racial unrest that has exploded nearby was nowhere in evidence, as a diverse crowd — about half of them black, half of them white — gathered to pay tribute to Brown. And in Ferguson too tensions were beginning to cool following pleas for calm from President Barack Obama and Missouri Governor Jay Nixon — and in the wake of Nixon’s decision to pull the oft-criticized St. Louis County police force out of the town in favor of state troopers.

Organizers dubbed it the national moment of silence. And once the minute was over, the emotion spilled out. In speeches and interviews, residents of St. Louis and its neighboring suburbs described a poisonous relationship between police and the African-American community that boiled over after Brown’s shooting but had been bubbling for many years.

Locals said the situation was particularly bad in the northern suburbs of St. Louis County, where towns like Ferguson have seen white flight turn mixed communities into mostly African-American enclaves policed by mostly white officers.

“Racial profiling — it happens so much,” said Delancy Davis, 27, speaking quietly under a black St. Louis hat. “It’s really prevalent in the counties, more so than in the city. Young black kids don’t like going out to the county because you’re going to get stopped.”

“We go through this a lot in the suburbs,” said Kim Stauther, 38, of St. Louis. “You get pulled over, just for driving while black. The cops really don’t respect us.”

It remains to be seen if the peaceful scenes in Ferguson and St. Louis on Thursday night were a sign that the tumult may be subsiding. Through their anger, the protesters expressed hope that the police had changed their tune. Some members of the crowd had been spending long hours this week protesting in Ferguson, and said the evening’s atmosphere was proof that the riots were driven by a heavily militarized police force.

“There are more people here” than in any of the violent protests in Ferguson, said Devin Booker, a 28-year-old personal trainer from Ferguson, who recalled running from tear gas and being menaced by police dogs this week. “This is peaceful because the police don’t have army gear; they don’t look like they’re running black ops.”

Nearby, Brown’s mother Lesley McSpadden stood before a bank of cameras, wearing mirrored sunglasses, a black T-shirt with an image of her son and red sandals. Her daughter Deja, Michael’s sister, leaned on her shoulder as a cousin, Eric Davis, described the family’s anger at the Ferguson police, who he said called today for the first time. (The family also received a call today from Attorney General Eric Holder, Davis said, who passed on well-wishes from Obama.)

“We’re in the dark,” said Davis, who described Brown as a quiet, soft-spoken boy. “That’s a hard thing to do when you’ve lost a child.”

As the light began to fade, the crowd toted signs, clasped shoulders and chanted the week’s chilling rallying cry: “Hands up, don’t shoot.” They congratulated each other on the peaceful protest and promised more to come. Many in the crowd expressed regret for the riots, but said that though the clashes had tainted a pure cause, drawing the nation’s attention had positive benefits nonetheless.

“This is the beginning of a big change,” said Moses Grimes, a 29-year-old counselor for troubled youth. “This will be a movement, and I think it will have an effect.”

TIME energy

Amid Federal Safety Push, North Dakota Considers New Energy Regulations

Rail Delays
An oil-tank train with crude oil from the Bakken shale fields of North Dakota travels near Staples, Minn., on April 15, 2014 Mike Cronin—AP

Can a state at the center of the oil boom regulate the industry that propelled it to prosperity?

After multiple derailments of tank cars carrying crude oil, the federal government is weighing new rules to bolster the safety of trains transporting flammable material. But the safety push could run into trouble in North Dakota, the state at the heart of the oil boom and the source of much of the crude sliding along the nation’s rails.

As the shale-oil boom accelerated in recent years, a series of derailments have raised questions about the safety of oil trains. In July 2013, a 74-car train carrying crude oil crashed in a small Quebec town, killing 47. Four months later, broken tracks led to a derailment in Alabama; a month after that, 20 cars of crude exploded after a collision outside Casselton, N.D., forcing residents to evacuate. In April, 17 tanks derailed near downtown Lynchburg, Va., sending a plume of fire spitting into the air outside a children’s museum.

Late last month, the U.S. Department of Transportation released a series of proposals to safeguard oil cars traveling from the Bakken shale formation in North Dakota to refineries around the country, often more than a thousand miles away. Among the proposals were phasing out tank cars that have proven vulnerable to explosions, imposing speed restrictions, and requiring trains to notify local first responders as they pass through states.

“Safety is our top priority,” said Transportation Secretary Anthony Foxx of the department’s proposal, which he called the “most significant progress yet in developing and enforcing new rules to ensure that all flammable liquids, including Bakken crude and ethanol, are transported safely.”

But in North Dakota, such liquid has been the lifeblood of a surging economy. Since the advent of new technology that helped companies tap the Bakken formation, North Dakota has enjoyed a massive energy boom. The unemployment rate has dropped to 2.7%, the lowest in the nation. Incomes are rising. And a sparsely populated state sprawled across the harsh northern prairie is suddenly adding well-paying jobs faster than it can fill them. As the U.S. economy slumped into recession and struggled to fight through a sluggish recovery, North Dakota was a rare bright spot on a bleak economic horizon.

Which may be why Foxx’s comments didn’t go down so well in the state. Last week, when he and U.S. Energy Secretary Ernest Moniz attended an energy policy summit in the state capital of Bismarck, Governor Jack Dalrymple jumped on the perceived criticism, asking why Bakken crude has been singled out in federal studies.

“The risk level is higher than we’ve seen in other parts of the country,” Foxx said, according to local reports. “We’ve got to raise our game on safety.”

But it is a matter of dispute whether shale oil from the Bakken is more volatile than traditional oil, and thus prone to explosion. As Washington considers new regulations, the state is undertaking its own study of whether and how companies should treat oil at the wellheads before transporting it.

In the coming weeks, the North Dakota Industrial Commission will hold public hearings to solicit input about the possibility of new requirements, says Alison Ritter, a spokeswoman for the North Dakota Department of Mineral Resources. The session will be just the second public hearings on energy in the past three years.

It is unclear whether the state is prepared to effectively regulate the very industry that propelled it to prosperity.

The Industrial Commission is composed of three of the state’s top elected officials: Governor Jack Dalrymple, Attorney General Wayne Stenehjem, and Agriculture Commissioner Doug Goehring. All are Republicans.

Dalrymple has been a friend of oil and gas concerns. His 2012 election victory was aided by $287,965 from the oil and gas industry, a total that surpasses than any other industry, according to data compiled by the National Institute on Money in State Politics. The governor’s office did not directly return multiple requests for comment.

Lynn Helms, the state’s top oil and gas regulator, has industry ties of his own. The director of the Department of Mineral Resources, Helms spent years working for energy firms before taking a job with the Industrial Commission in 1998. This is not uncommon, but critics say it raises questions of whether the regulator should also hold responsibility for promoting oil production.

“How can you regulate an industry, and make sure they’re following all the rules and safeguards on Mondays,” says Kenton Onstad, a Democratic representative in the North Dakota legislature, “and then on Tuesday go out and promote it? It should be either one or the other.”

New requirements for treating crude at the well sites could be costly for the energy businesses that operate in the Bakken. Industry groups say the formation’s crude has no unique dangers and should not be subject to special regulations. The North Dakota Petroleum Council, an industry group, paid engineering and chemical analysis firms about $400,000 to produce a report on the characteristics of Bakken crude. The study determined it did not pose any greater risk for rail transport than other types of crude or transportation fuels. “All of this data does not support the speculation that Bakken crude is more volatile or flammable,” said NDPC vice president Kari Cutting.

Ritter said the Industrial Commission would be expected to issue a decision within 30 days of the public hearing. “The goal,” she says, “is to make crude as safe as possible for transport.”

TIME Immigration

Influx of Child Immigrants Strains Courts in Louisiana

Michael's Journey - Immigration in New Orleans
Attendees listen to speakers at the weekly meeting of "Congreso," or the Congress of Day Laborers. This is one branch of the New Orleans Workers' Center for Racial Justice, New Orleans, Aug. 6, 2014. William Widmer for TIME

The wave of unaccompanied children streaming across the U.S. border has compounded a court crisis, as advocates warn backlogs and a shortage of lawyers will lead to injustice

For the 1,071 unaccompanied minors who have crossed the southwest border this year and ended up in Louisiana, the path to a future in the U.S. runs through a courtroom on the 24th floor of an office tower in the heart of New Orleans.

Here, past the heavy doors and security guards, a rotating detail of judges determines the fate of the immigrant children streaming across the border and into the state. As they arrive in record numbers, the New Orleans Immigration Court is buckling under the strain.

During the first six months of 2014, the court has taken on 450 juvenile immigration cases, according to government records obtained by Syracuse University’s Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse (TRAC). That number puts the court on pace to shatter last year’s total of 540 cases. Three years ago, it had 71.

New Orleans’ struggle is part of a pattern. Nationwide, immigration courts have become choke points in the border crisis. Overburdened and underfunded, they are sagging under the weight of the new arrivals, with enormous case backlogs and a lack of attorneys able to perform work that must often be pro bono, or without charge.

At the end of June, the number of cases pending in U.S. immigration courts had climbed to a record high of 375,503, according to data amassed by TRAC. The largest backlogs are in states with the biggest immigrant populations, such as California and Texas, which have also received the greatest number of unaccompanied minors.

But as stressed as those states are, legal activists say the situation is worse in places where the number of immigrants may not be quite as high, but where there’s a shortage of lawyers able to represent a spiking population.

New Orleans is a prime example. The large number of Honduran immigrants resident here has made the Crescent City a magnet for kids fleeing the skyrocketing violence in the troubled Central American country. Over the past year, few cities have absorbed more unaccompanied kids than New Orleans. Yet the entire state of Louisiana has only about a half-dozen nonprofit immigration lawyers devoted to serving them, says Jennifer Rizzo, national pro bono promotion counsel for Human Rights First.

As a result, children are regularly summoned to complex legal proceedings that will shape their future without any legal representation. At the end of June, New Orleans Immigration Court had a total of 1,216 pending juvenile immigration cases. In 991 of them—81%—the child has no lawyer. Overall, 87% of immigrants detained in the state lack an attorney, according to a study by Human Rights First.

“Things have reached a crisis point,” Rizzo says.

Legal representation may be the single largest factor in determining whether an undocumented immigrant wins the right to remain in the U.S. According to TRAC’s analysis of 100,000 case records obtained through the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA), immigrant children represented by an attorney are deported by presiding judges about half the time. In cases when juveniles went without an attorney, the success rate for sidestepping deportation was just one in 10.

“There’s a likelihood that these kids don’t know how to obtain legal representation, because nobody speaks English,” says Hiroko Kusuda, whose law clinic at Loyola University in New Orleans is one of just three listed service providers in the state. “If they don’t have legal representation, the chances of them getting relief from deportation is close to zilch.”

Kathryn Mattingly, a spokeswoman for the Justice Department’s Executive Office for Immigration Review (EOIR), said in an email that EOIR provides interpreter services for immigrant children for whom English is a challenge. But she acknowledged that some go without a lawyer. “Children are not guaranteed representation in immigration court proceedings, but all respondents have a right to representation at no expense to the government,” Mattingly said, adding that various government initiatives are designed to promote pro bono work.

The small community of immigration lawyers in the New Orleans area wants to help. Along with national advocates, they are scrambling to enlist new recruits. Kathleen Gasparian, an immigration lawyer in Metairie, La., started a program called PB&J: Pro Bono and Juveniles, which recruits pro bono attorneys and matches them with immigrant kids who have recently crossed the southern border and cannot afford legal services. Rizzo recently organized a conference to tackle Louisiana’s crisis in immigration representation, and convenes a monthly working group of local stakeholders. “The immigration court system is broken,” Gasparian says.

The issues were multiplying even before children started arriving. Louisiana has just two immigration courts, and the second, in the small city of Oakdale, more than three hours northwest of New Orleans, handles only detention cases. The backlog of pending cases statewide has soared to 6,703, up from just 732 a decade ago. “Now, you don’t even get your first hearing for a year,” says Ken Mayeaux, a professor at Louisiana State University Law Center in Baton Rouge who runs an immigration clinic for students. The average wait time for pending cases in the EOIR has climbed to 587 days.

Compounding that lengthening backlog, the New Orleans court is without a single devoted judge. Instead, a rotating trio of judges handle the docket, usually commuting from the Oakdale facility. Sometimes cases are decided over video conference.

The lack of a permanent judge is a symptom of a national problem, created by a hiring freeze imposed in 2011 by Attorney General Eric Holder as DOJ sought to cut costs in the teeth of the recession. The hiring freeze was lifted in February, but Mattingly declined to say when a new full-time judge will start at New Orleans immigration court.

On a steamy Thursday morning this month, TIME visited the court, on Canal Street downtown, in an attempt to observe proceedings. There were about six cases on the docket for the day, according to a printed list in the entryway, but two security guards barred this correspondent from entering, citing instructions from the presiding judge.

“In certain cases, including hearings involving credible fear reviews, the hearing is closed to the public unless the alien states for the record that he or she waves that requirement,” Mattingly later wrote in an email. On that day, she added, “there were no open cases.”

TIME 2014 Election

3 Reasons Justin Amash Will Likely Hold His Seat Tuesday Night

Rep. Justin Amash, R-Mich., at the Capitol on July 24, 2013.
Rep. Justin Amash, R-Mich., at the Capitol on July 24, 2013. J. Scott Applewhite—AP

GOP leaders were desperate to defeat Justin Amash, but they may have to try again in two years

The script may seem stale by now. Like so many elections this year, Tuesday’s GOP primary in Michigan’s Third District features an incumbent with a bullseye painted on his back and a seething pack of enemies who say he’s all that’s wrong with the Republican Party. Once again, after all the policy jawing and political hype, the insurgent looks set to fall short.

But while the storyline feels familiar, the race flips the script in an important way. The challenger is a well-funded businessman boosted by the local Chamber of Commerce. And the incumbent, Rep. Justin Amash, is a two-term libertarian loathed by the Republican consultant class.

Amash appears to be coasting toward victory, according to a series of polls that have shown him with consistent double-digit leads. That’s no small feat for a member who was managed to make himself one of the rare incumbents targeted for defeat by his own party. But despite all the teeth-gnashing about Amash, the Michigan Republican has never appeared in any real danger. And on Tuesday, a combination of factors appear ready to him to lift him to victory over challenger Brian Ellis. Here are three reasons why Amash looks set to win:

1. Iconoclasm is in.

Since arriving in Washington in the wake of the 2010 Tea Party wave, Amash has distinguished himself as an independent thinker who’s willing to buck party leaders. A civil libertarian, he’s often a lonely dissident on key Republican votes and sometimes joins with Democrats on issues like National Security Agency oversight. He bucked House GOP leaders so many times they finally booted him off the House Budget committee. But when you’re running for re-election in an unpopular Congress, the back bench can be a prime spot. Amash says he follows the Constitution, not the needs of the his caucus, and posts explanations of every vote he casts on Facebook. A libertarian strain is percolating in the GOP grassroots, and thanks to the constituent-friendly approach and independent streak, many voters see Amash as a rare authentic voice.

2. A money gap never materialized.

Earlier in the election cycle, it seemed Amash might be drowned by a tide of outside money. The U.S. Chamber of Commerce had him in its crosshairs. Karl Rove, the majordomo of American Crossroads, called him the “most liberal” Republican. And Ellis, his opponent, is a wealthy businessman with the support of well-endowed GOP organizations like the local chapters of the Chamber and Right to Life. Amash has been outspent, according to data compiled by the Center for Responsive Politics, and Ellis has ponied up more than $1 million on his own behalf. But the outside onslaught never materialized. GOP bigwigs steered clear of the race, deterred by yawning gaps in the polls. The U.S. Chamber mostly held its fire, only endorsing Ellis late. And Amash mustered plenty of cash of his own, crushing Ellis among small donors and receiving critical air cover from groups like the Club for Growth and Americans for Prosperity.

3. It’s really hard to beat an incumbent.

It’s been the story of this primary cycle: the ballyhooed challenge coming up short. Part of it has been the succession of candidates with significant shortcomings. But incumbents have an inherent advantage that is difficult for even the shrewdest insurgent to overcome. In 2012, 90% of House incumbents won re-election. In 2010—a wave year—the figure slipped to 85%; two years before that, it was 94%. It takes a special alignment of factors for an incumbent to fall. The Washington echo chamber may have made Amash sound vulnerable. But history suggests he was something of a sure thing from the start.

TIME Immigration

This Baptist Charity Is Being Paid Hundreds of Millions to Shelter Child Migrants

Contractors have taken on the huge task of sheltering thousands of unaccompanied child migrants

In the late afternoon of July 9, Air Force One touched down at Love Field in Dallas. President Barack Obama ducked into a private room at the airport for a discussion about the crisis of undocumented children crossing the southwest border. Assembled around a wooden table were top Texas officials, including Governor Rick Perry and Dallas Mayor Mike Rawlings, as well as the leaders of several faith-based charities. One of them was a man so anonymous, the White House pool report misspelled his name.

Kevin Dinnin is the CEO of a faith-based, nonprofit organization called BCFS, formerly known as Baptist Child and Family Services. This obscure charity has emerged as one of the biggest players in the federal government’s response to the influx of more than 57,000 unaccompanied children who have trudged across the southern border so far this year. It runs two of the largest facilities for temporarily housing immigrant children, as well as six permanent shelters in California and Texas. Since December, BCFS has received more than $280 million in federal grants to operate these shelters, according to government records. On July 7, two days before Dinnin met Obama in Dallas, the Department of Health and Human Services awarded BCFS $190,707,505 in a single grant.

BCFS is just one part of a sprawling system of shelters for unaccompanied children across the country. As the numbers of children entering the country balloon, so do the dollars required to care for them. To shield vulnerable kids from angry opponents of immigration and the media spotlight, the government declines to disclose the locations and activities of many of the facilities operated by BCFS and similar organizations. That protectiveness comes at a political cost. Governors in states across the U.S. have assailed the federal government for sending kids to their states without notifying local officials, and congressional critics say that massive amounts of taxpayer money are being spent without proper oversight.

A dormitory at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio where unaccompanied migrant girls are being housed. Health and Human Services Administrations—The New York Times/Redux

Senator Charles Grassley, the ranking member on the Senate Judiciary Committee, wrote a letter to HHS Secretary Sylvia Mathews Burwell on July 17, requesting information about BCFS contracts to ensure that taxpayer money wasn’t being misused. “Despite being almost completely dependent on the public, BCFS has faced heavy criticism for attempting to avoid public scrutiny,” the Iowa Republican wrote. “This aversion to basic transparency is extremely disturbing.”

BCFS began in 1944 as a home for orphaned children. In recent years, a sleepy San Antonio–based charity grew into a global nonprofit with regional offices around the U.S., as well as in Southeast Asia, Eastern Europe and Africa. On contract for the federal government, it has provided temporary shelter and emergency services in the wake of natural disasters ranging from Texas hurricanes to Haitian earthquakes. When the state needed to relocate the members of a Texas polygamous sect in 2008, it turned to BCFS, which provided emergency housing. The current crisis is the largest and longest response BCFS has ever faced. It has deployed some 1,400 personnel to manage the temporary shelters this year.

For BCFS executives, the work can be lucrative. According to federal tax records, Dinnin received nearly $450,000 in compensation in 2012. At least four other top officials earned more than $200,000. The median salary for the CEOs of nonprofit organizations like BCFS was about $285,000 in 2011, according to a 2013 survey by Charity Navigator.

The salaries, BCFS spokeswoman Krista Piferrer says, are determined by factors in the group’s contract with HHS. When disaster situations strike, a crisis pay scale replaces a regular one to account for extended 12-hour shifts in two-to-three-week stints. In 2012, an influx of children at the border required an emergency response, according to Piferrer. “It is similar to making an appointment to see a primary-care physician vs. going to the emergency room,” she says. “The emergency room is more expensive.”

The federal grant money for sheltering unaccompanied children, provided by HHS’s Administration for Children and Families, has so far totaled $671 million during the 2014 fiscal year. BCFS has received 40% of those funds, making it the largest recipient of money disbursed to contractors to temporarily house unaccompanied children until they can be reunited with family members or placed in foster care. Dozens of other organizations are involved in the effort, including Southwest Key Programs, Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service, and the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.

BCFS is responsible for running two of the three temporary facilities recently set up to house large numbers of undocumented children apprehended by federal agents. One is at the Department of Defense’s Joint Base Lackland, in BCFS’s home city of San Antonio. Lackland is currently housing more than 700 children and has processed more than 3,600 overall since opening in May, says Kenneth Wolfe, an HHS spokesman. Another is Oklahoma’s Fort Sill, which is currently holding about 400 children and has discharged nearly 1,500 to date. Children stay at these facilities for an average of less than 35 days while the government works to find a family member with whom to place them. Because they are temporary shelters, some journalists, faith leaders, members of Congress and foreign dignitaries have been allowed into the facilities at Lackland and Fort Sill. Both facilities are expected to close by the end of August.

These facilities make up just a fraction of the extensive network in place to house child migrants. The Office of Refugee Resettlement’s Unaccompanied Alien Children program (UAC) has been given custody of more than 53,000 children over the past several months. The majority have been cycled through this network of about 100 smaller, permanent facilities, scattered across 14 U.S. states.

Unlike the temporary shelters, the permanent facilities are largely inaccessible to media and the taxpayers that fund them. Their locations are not officially disclosed, and they are “generally unnamed or unmarked,” according to Wolfe. Contractors are prohibited from speaking with the media without permission, BCFS says. As a result, it’s hard to gauge the conditions under which thousands of children are being held, or to assess whether taxpayer money is being well spent.

Wolfe, the HHS spokesman, says the secrecy stems from federal policy designed to protect the children’s privacy and ensure their safety. “We don’t identify the permanent facilities for the security of the children and the staff and the program,” he says. “Like any grant, we have federal staff assigned to oversight.”

A spokesperson for Southwest Key Programs, a Texas nonprofit that has been awarded more than $122 million in federal grants since December to shelter unaccompanied children, making it the second largest recipient after BCFS, said the organization was required to refer press inquiries to HHS. On a recent July afternoon, after multiple emails went unanswered, a TIME reporter drove to a Southwest Key facility in Phoenix. It was a colorful building ringed by tall metal bars and “No Trespassing” signs, situated off a freeway in a part of town where most signs are in Spanish. There was no guard out front to greet visitors, and entry required punching in a code at the locked gate.

The level of secrecy surrounding the facilities is unusual, says Neil Gordon, an investigator for the Washington-based Project on Government Oversight. But observers say it may be warranted. From Arizona to Michigan, clusters of citizens have held armed protests to oppose the relocation of undocumented children to facilities in their communities. “This situation is pretty unique in that they don’t want the mobs to come out and cause problems,” Gordon says. “That might be the reason they’re being so tight-lipped.”

A temporary shelter for unaccompanied minors who have entered the country illegally is seen at Lackland Air Force Base, in San Antonio on June 23, 2014. Eric Gay—AP

A string of scams have also highlighted the importance of shielding the residents’ privacy. Grifters have been preying on the relatives of unaccompanied children, promising to help reunite them with their family members for fees ranging from $300 to $6,000, according to the Associated Press. The FBI is investigating the scams, which have targeted the families of children staying at BCFS facilities like Lackland, the AP reports.

Critics in Congress say the federal government is skirting transparency obligations. On July 1, Oklahoma Representative Jim Bridenstine, a Republican, was denied access to the BCFS facility at Fort Sill. “There is no excuse for denying a federal representative from Oklahoma access to a federal facility in Oklahoma where unaccompanied children are being held,” he said. “What are they trying to hide?” Soon after, the conservative media erupted over reports that BCFS planned to purchase a Texas hotel and turn it into a 600-bed facility for housing unaccompanied minors. (BCFS scuttled the idea, citing a backlash fed by inaccurate reporting.)

The UAC grant applications provide a glimpse of the extensive requirements to which organizations like BCFS must adhere. In addition to meeting all state and federal statutes, shelters must provide two hours per weekday of outdoor activity, offer classroom instruction on subjects like reading and science, supply counseling and personalized medical care, and grant phone calls to family members and access to visitors. The documents dictate that providers “utilize a positive, strength-based behavior-management approach, and shall never subject [residents] to corporal punishment, humiliation, mental abuse or punitive interference with the daily functions of living, such as eating or sleeping.”

Immigrant advocates say unaccompanied children are particularly vulnerable to abuse and exploitation. In January, the National Immigrant Justice Center issued a policy brief based on interviews with hundreds of unaccompanied children in the Chicago area. The minors reported grim conditions in the custody of the Department of Homeland Security, before transfer to shelters run by contractors. According to the policy paper, 56% said they had been placed in three-point shackles, which restrain individuals at the wrists, waist and ankles. More than 70% reported being placed in unheated cells during the winter. Some said they were barely fed.

The lack of public or congressional oversight of the facilities sheltering unaccompanied children should not be construed as concealing anything untoward, say groups that have visited them and worked with BCFS. The care at BCFS sites is extensive, Piferrer says, with the chief of the respiratory-disease branch at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention embedded at the site to track every illness the children faced, from broken ankles to fevers to GI-tract infections. “You don’t find another organization like this,” Gary Ledbetter of the Southern Baptists of Texas Convention says of BCFS. “It’s basically a turnkey operation.”

“There’s not one bit of care that those kids were receiving that wasn’t first class,” says Chris Liebrum of the Baptist General Convention of Texas, a Baptist network with which BCFS is affiliated. “The federal government has come to Kevin. When the government says, ‘We need thousands of kids taken care of, can you do it?’ He’s done it.”

TIME 2014 Election

Michelle Nunn’s Leaked Memos Offer Rare Glimpse of Campaign Calculation

Michelle Nunn speaks to her supporters after winning the Democratic primary for Georgia Senate on May 20, 2014. Akili-Casundria Ramsess—AP

The leaked documents offer a rare inside look at campaign strategy

As a Democrat in a Southern state, Senate candidate Michelle Nunn has a tough path to victory. The road became a little bumpier Monday, when a conservative magazine published a series of internal strategy memos outlining the Nunn campaign’s perceptions of the candidate’s weaknesses.

The memos are a guide to practically everything the Nunn campaign worried about last winter—except how to run damage control on the memos themselves.

Obtained by reporter Eliana Johnson of National Review, the documents detail the challenges Nunn must surmount to win election as a moderate Democrat in conservative Georgia. Among the vulnerabilities identified are the perception that Nunn is “too liberal,” that she is “not a real Georgian” and that Republicans will tie her to national Democratic leaders who are deeply unpopular in the Peach State.

The documents warn of weak spots stemming from Nunn’s role as CEO of a nonprofit foundation. They reveal the campaign’s clinic assessment of how it must mobilize traditional liberal constituencies, like African-Americans, Jews and Asians. And they expose the campaign’s plan to sell Nunn with “rural” imagery that might soften up Georgia voters skeptical of a candidate reared partly in the suburbs of Washington, where her father served as a Georgia senator.

According to National Review, the documents were briefly posted online in December.

Beyond the potentially damaging aspects, the memos offer a rare, unvarnished glimpse into the mechanics of running a campaign. They cover everything from scrubbing a voter file to modeling turnout (1.4 million votes is Nunn’s magic number, according to a memo from Democratic strategist Diane Feldman). The documents map the architecture of Nunn’s outreach machine and detail which constituencies to target. Much of the information will reinforce negative impressions of how campaigns work, including suggestions for how to drive a message week-by-week and the ways it can whack Republican opponents.

In short, the memos are a classic example of what is known in Washington as a Kinsley gaffe: when a politician errs by accidentally revealing the truth. (The phenomenon is named after the journalist Michael Kinsley, who coined the phenomenon.) The existence of the memos is not a surprise; any campaign worth its salt undertakes a study of its perceived weaknesses. The Nunn memos are remarkable less for their judgments than for the fact that a hapless adviser apparently posted them on the Internet.

“Like all good plans, they change. But what hasn’t changed and is all the more clear today is that Michelle’s opponents are going to mischaracterize her work and her positions, and part of what we’ve always done is to prepare for the false things that are going to be said,” Nunn campaign manager Jeff DeSantis told The Hill.

From time to time, these leaks happen. In 2007, internal strategy memos from Mitt Romney’s first presidential campaign were obtained by the Boston Globe, including a 77-page PowerPoint presentation dotted with analyses of both Romney’s weaknesses and those of his GOP rivals. Around the same time, Rudy Giuliani’s strategy blueprint materialized online after a leak. The Atlantic nabbed similar documents from Hillary Clinton’s team the following year, revealing her campaign’s concerns about “frontrunner-itis” and its strategy for exploiting Barack Obama’s “lack of American roots.”

Recent polls have shown the Democrat in a tight race with Republican nominee David Perdue, who edged Rep. Jack Kingston in a Republican Senate runoff last week. A Democratic Senate Campaign Committee memo released (intentionally) last week assails the GOP businessman’s “record of putting himself first,” a signal that Nunn’s campaign will borrow a page from the populist playbook President Obama’s advisers deployed against Romney. As they fight to hold control of the Senate, Democrats view the race as a rare pickup opportunity on an unforgiving electoral map.

How much will the leak hurt Nunn’s prospects? It’s tough to say. But when you’re trying to sell a candidate as authentic, a long look at the careful packaging can’t help.

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