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Common Ground and its new branch, Tenants United, are leading efforts to hold private landlords accountable, starting with David Tomblin of Highgrove Holdings LLC. 

Highgrove Holdings is an out-of-state landlord with more than 260 properties, mostly on Milwaukee’s North Side. A significant number of homes are reportedly vacant or boarded.

Common Ground and Tenants United documented dozens of violations and examples of neglect, from mildew and mold to broken windows and holes in the ceilings.

Now both groups alongside other advocates and Milwaukee City Attorney Evan Goyke have set out to “evict” Tomblin, owner of Highgrove Holdings, from control of his properties through a novel lawsuit filed in Milwaukee County Circuit Court. 

A complaint filed by the city of Milwaukee is asking a judge to appoint a third-party receiver to manage Highgrove’s portfolio if hundreds of alleged nuisance and code violations are not fixed within 60 days. If granted, it would effectively strip Tomblin of operational control over his Milwaukee properties.

“The point of this is to get them to comply,” Goyke said. “No one should need to be sued to be code-compliant. It shouldn’t come to this, but if this is what it takes, so be it.”

Tenants United

Last August during unprecedented storms, Ebony Martin’s ceiling fell in. Not only was she hospitalized as a result of the collapse, but she said her property management company, Highgrove Holdings Management, never fixed the leaks. 

Stories like hers led Common Ground and Tenants United to get involved.

Tenants United formed several years ago during a campaign against the Housing Authority of the City of Milwaukee. 

The group’s advocacy for Housing Authority residents led to a change in leadership and some operations. 

Charlene “Peaches” Bell said she initially joined Tenants United as a resident of the Housing Authority because she saw a need for change and accountability. She’s still there because the need is still there. 

“We have to help each other,” Bell said. “They say it takes a village. What kind of world will we have if we don’t do this now?”

The strategy

Tenants United members said Highgrove Holdings has accumulated hundreds of code violations and leads the city in orders for lead abatement. They also pointed out rising delinquent property taxes and ongoing legal disputes with lenders and investors. 

Tomblin, who previously lived in California and now resides in Washington, has marketed Milwaukee as a profitable market for investors. He cited strong returns tied in part to Opportunity Zones, federally designated areas intended to spur redevelopment.

Nearly 100 tenant leaders and community advocates gathered on March 26 alongside Goyke to announce a legal campaign targeting Tomblin’s company. 

Tenant leader Kiante Shields, who helped launch the campaign, described the lawsuit as a turning point in holding corporate landlords accountable.

“This is about drawing a line,” Shields said. “If you neglect hundreds of homes, there are consequences, not just fines, but losing control.”

What comes next

The lawsuit now heads to circuit court, where a judge will decide whether to order repairs or appoint a receiver to take over management.

Advocates say the case could set a precedent for how Milwaukee and other cities handle large-scale landlord neglect.

“This isn’t just about one landlord,” Shields said. “It’s about changing the system.”

‘This isn’t just about one landlord’: Tenants United pushes to improve housing conditions in Milwaukee is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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A loosely formed coalition of about 60 federal litigators is working with immigration attorneys in Wisconsin who represent clients being detained and facing deportation.

Gabriela Parra, an immigration attorney and partner at Layde & Parra S.C. in Milwaukee, said immigration policies are constantly changing, which adds new challenges. 

Many cases now involve both immigration proceedings and federal civil rights issues, she said.

“If you haven’t done this, it’s a learning curve,” Parra said. 

Federal litigators and immigration attorneys are working together to help meet this demand in Wisconsin.

Surge in overall need

The need for legal representation has grown as immigration enforcement has expanded.

U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement held an average of 69,600 people per day in detention in December 2025 – a 78% increase compared with the year before, according to an analysis by the Vera Institute of Justice, a national nonprofit working on issues related to mass incarceration and immigration. 

But more than half the people in the immigration court system are fighting the government alone, according to immigration court data analyzed by Vera. 

“There is a due process crisis right now happening in our immigration system,” said Elizabeth Kenney, associate director of Vera’s Advancing Universal Representation Initiative. 

While people have the right to obtain an immigration attorney, the government does not have to provide one, said Timothy Muth, staff attorney with the American Civil Liberties Union of Wisconsin.

Kenney said not having legal representation has major consequences. 

People who have attorneys are up to 10 and a half times more likely to get successful outcomes, Kenney said.

More complex cases

Parra said policy changes have added a federal civil rights dimension to many cases – changes that include how the Board of Immigration Appeals has interpreted immigration law.

The board sets binding rules for immigration judges and has authority over appeals in immigration cases.

Parra said there have been more than 80 decisions by the board since January 2025 that have affected immigration policy.  

One Board of Immigration Appeals decision, known as Yajure Hurtado, requires immigration judges to treat many as subject to mandatory detention. The decision has significantly limited people’s access to bonds.

“Now you have individuals in detention unless you can file a habeas petition in federal court,” Parra said. 

A habeas petition is used to argue that a person’s detention is unlawful. 

Habeas petitions vary widely depending on a person’s situation, said Elisabeth Lambert, a federal civil rights attorney working with the network.

Some involve people who have lived in the United States for years and seek release on bond while their cases proceed. Others involve people who entered through legal processes but are later detained and denied bond.

There also are other barriers that make it harder for people to defend themselves, requiring different support in federal court.

For example, Lambert said, immigrants facing deportation don’t have a right to discovery. This means that the only way to get the records is through a specific type of federal records request. 

A right of discovery allows defendants to access information that could be used against them from a prosecutor ahead of trial. 

Lambert said records can face various delays and other barriers and may arrive after the deportation proceeding has already happened.

Why federal court is different

Lambert said the two court systems – immigration court and federal court – operate very differently.

Each of these legal spaces has its own sets of rules, norms and procedures, she said. 

“It’s just a lot to learn very quickly in a very high-stakes situation,” Lambert said. 

It works the other way, too.

“I couldn’t go into immigration court,” she said. “I don’t have the knowledge or the experience.” 

In one case Lambert and Parra worked on together, a judge issued a restraining order barring ICE from moving ahead with a client’s removal proceeding until a Freedom of Information Act issue was resolved, she said.

Lambert anticipates similar litigation in the future.  

“We think that this is going to be a pretty common issue – of the government withholding people’s immigration records as part of this effort to stack the deportation process against people who are seeking immigration relief.”

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Jonathan Aguilar is a visual journalist at Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service who is supported through a partnership between CatchLight Local and Report for America.

Wisconsin attorneys team up with federal litigators as deportation cases grow more complex is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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• Decades of repression and ethnic cleansing in Myanmar have driven most Rohingya from their western Myanmar homeland. 

• Several forms of written Rohingya have emerged in the diaspora, but none has reached widespread use among a scattered population. 

• A small group in Milwaukee, home to what may be the country’s latest Rohingya population, is testing whether teaching a written form of Rohingya can help preserve the language.

• Advocates face a major hurdle: persuading families to prioritize learning Rohingya alongside work, school and resettlement.

• Similar efforts among Hmong refugees in the Midwest suggest a written language can take hold — but only with sustained community buy-in.

A dozen fasting teenagers filed into the basement of a community center on Milwaukee’s South Side in mid-February to mark the first night of Ramadan around folding tables. The building belongs to the Burmese Rohingya Community of Wisconsin (BRCW), a bare-bones nonprofit serving hundreds of local Rohingya refugee families. Brand-new carpets muffled the sounds of worshippers in the mosque one floor up.

Nearly everyone in the nonprofit’s Clarke Square community center spoke Rohingya, but not a single printed word in the language appeared on the whiteboards in the center’s classrooms where recent arrivals study English and prepare for citizenship exams. Flyers advertising a food giveaway were in English, as were posters listing prayer times and an illuminated sign over the center’s front entrance.

Printed Rohingya words could be found only in a small stack of children’s books and loose-leaf dictionaries in an office just off the prayer hall — raw materials for an experiment in cultural preservation. 

Hardly anyone passing through the community center can easily read a sentence in Rohingya. 

Decades of state-sanctioned repression and ethnic cleansing have driven most Rohingya from their western Myanmar homeland. Several forms of written Rohingya have emerged in the diaspora, but none has reached widespread use among the scattered diaspora. Without an agreed-upon alphabet or enough people literate in Rohingya to teach it, community leaders worry the language will wither, taking with it a core part of a culture already frayed by displacement and state-sanctioned violence.

Milwaukee is now a proving ground for Rohingya literacy. If this community center with a tiny volunteer staff can build an audience for Rohingya language education — in the city likely home to the country’s largest Rohingya population — momentum could spread, boosting the language’s chances of surviving in exile.

It’s a big if.

What does it take to preserve a language that’s rarely written down? The center’s indefatigable co-founders, a Dallas-based linguist and an international network of Rohingya scholars are trying to figure it out.

From Myanmar to Milwaukee

Mohamed Anwar is always on the move. Even while juggling a half-dozen jobs, the BRCW co-founder leaves a few gaps in his schedule to help refugee families navigate their new country.

He, too, came to Milwaukee as a refugee. 

Anwar grew up on a knife’s edge. Since gaining independence from Britain in 1948, Myanmar’s government has chipped away at the rights of the Rohingya, a Muslim ethnic group in a majority-Buddhist nation. In 1982, when Anwar was 7, the Myanmar government stripped the Rohingya and other disfavored groups of citizenship, leaving millions stateless.

Anwar managed to secure a high school diploma and an undergraduate degree — the latter a rare accomplishment for a Rohingya student of his generation. But with prospects dimming and the threat of state-sponsored violence mounting, Anwar set aside his graduate studies and fled, joining thousands of other Rohingya refugees risking death and enslavement to reach Malaysia.

He remained in Kuala Lumpur for over a decade, initially surviving on low-wage jobs until he eventually crossed paths with  United Nations outreach workers.Recognizing his talents, the U.N. brought him on as a translator.  

When the State Department approved his family for resettlement in the U.S. as refugees in 2015, Anwar landed in Milwaukee, where a few friends had already begun putting down roots.

Even a decade ago, the city’s Rohingya community was large enough for Aurora Health Care to require interpreters. Anwar was a natural fit for the job. 

Like other specialists, health care interpreters must pass a certification course. “They had no one to test me in Rohingya,” Anwar recalled. Without an agreed-upon alphabet, a written test was also off the table. His examiners took his time with the U.N. as proof of his fluency, and he has since taken charge of  recruiting and training new Rohingya interpreters for the hospital system.

Milwaukee becomes a magnet

BRCW estimates more than 4,000 Rohingya live in the Milwaukee area — an educated guess, but a difficult one to confirm. Roughly half of the more than 13,000 refugees resettled in Wisconsin since 2012 came from Myanmar, but the State Department resettlement statistics do not distinguish between Rohingya and other refugees from the country. 

The city has become a magnet for Rohingya refugees who first settled elsewhere in the United States, drawn by cheaper housing, abundant jobs for immigrants with limited English, a strong support network and private Islamic schools. That pattern shows up in BRCW outreach data: 17% of phone numbers collected by 2020 had out-of-state area codes — some belonging to families whom the nonprofit helped relocate from as far away as New Hampshire.

Most Rohingya families have settled on Milwaukee’s South Side and southern suburbs, with a growing number purchasing homes within walking distance of BRCW’s community center. Anwar himself owns a few nearby properties, renting them to Rohingya newcomers finding their footing in the city.

The city’s public institutions are trying to keep pace with the community’s growth. Milwaukee Public Schools began translating notices for parents into one version of written Rohingya at least five years ago and has published a Rohingya translation of this year’s parent handbook. In mid-January, a Milwaukee Health Department official called BRCW to ask whether the agency should offer Rohingya translations using a Latin script, a script derived from Arabic and Urdu or audio recordings.

BRCW co-founder Andrew Trumbull says audio recordings are the only viable means of reaching most new arrivals, at least for now. 

The nonprofit offers English classes, but many Rohingya adults have little free time between long shifts and family responsibilities. Parents often rely on their children as interpreters, but translating technical terms into Rohingya is a stretch for children who have never formally studied the language. 

A volunteer effort takes shape

Trumbull sticks out in the halls of the BRCW community center. He doesn’t speak Rohingya, doesn’t pray in the center’s mosque and has no family ties to Rohingya Milwaukee, but he’s been there from the start. A decade after helping get the nonprofit off the ground, the self-described weekend warrior spends much of his scarce free time applying for grants and managing English-language communications in the cluttered office he shares with Anwar.

The pair met through Anwar’s brother, for whom Trumbull acted as a tutor and Milwaukee tour guide as the former settled into his new city. They soon launched BRCW, with Anwar managing community affairs and Trumbull managing relationships with government agencies and nonprofit peers — both as volunteers.

Trumbull’s enthusiasm for Rohingya language preservation is partially motivated by his own feelings of cultural loss. He spent most of his childhood in Germany, but after moving to the U.S. at age 11, he refused to speak his grandparents’ language. “I wanted not to be different, so I did not speak German,” he said. While he doesn’t compare his experience to those of refugees, he’s watched similar assimilatory pressures play out among Rohingya children in Milwaukee. 

“All of the Rohingya parents know that the Rohingya language is dying,” he said. “The question is what they can do about it.”

For now, a small selection of children’s books and a Rohingya-to-English dictionary offer the closest thing to a Rohingya literacy curriculum in the U.S. Trumbull hosts a digital version of the dictionary on the center’s website; the physical copies in his office are the leftovers from a pile passed out to families. Without a grant to support a more structured distribution program, Anwar and Trumbull are “field-testing” the materials by handing them out whenever they can and seeking feedback.

Another source of Rohingya-language learning aids: “Sesame Street.”A series of episodes starring puppet siblings Noor and Aziz — characters introduced in 2022 for refugee children in Bangladesh  — also went through field-testing in Milwaukee with the help of Anwar, Trumbull and BRCW. 

Searching for a written form

The written Rohingya materials on display at BRCW are the product of decades of work by Rohingya linguists.

An earlier form of written Rohingya died out roughly 200 years ago, said Dallas-based linguist Miranda Kuykendall; the reasons for its extinction remain unclear. Revival efforts took off in the 1980s, when a Rohingya academic in Bangladesh developed the Hanifi script by adapting the alphabet family used to write Arabic and Urdu.

By the turn of the century, a Rohingya engineer in Saudi Arabia introduced a Latin alphabet alternative — a more straightforward option for standard keyboards.

“Different pockets of the Rohingya population prefer different scripts for different reasons,” Kuykendall said. For Rohingya students familiar with Arabic through religious education, the Hanifi script may be more approachable, and pilot programs in Bangladesh teach the script to some refugee children. The Latin-based script is familiar to the growing Rohingya diaspora in North America, the United Kingdom and Malaysia, where the primary languages rely on the Latin alphabet. 

Kuykendall, the Rohingya language program manager for Texas nonprofit International Literacy and Development, helped roll out the Rohingya-to-English dictionary and partnered with nonprofit publisher Books Unbound to release a picture dictionary for younger audiences. The same network of collaborators is now developing a Rohingya translation app.

Though her team included multiple Rohingya scripts in the dictionary, Kuykendall noted that children of Rohingya parents born or raised in the U.S. typically find the Latin script version of the language, also called “Rohingyalish,” far easier to pick up.

That isn’t necessarily the case for Rohingya-speaking adults — even those already literate in several other languages. “It’s difficult for me to read,” said Anwar, squinting at a page of a picture dictionary. “I never got a chance to learn.” 

Kuykendall and BRCW say boosting adult literacy could be transformative for Rohingya refugee communities, with written Rohingya serving as a useful counterpart for teaching English. 

But in Anwar and Trumbull’s view, children and young adults are more likely to have time for the Rohingya literacy materials now in the informal testing process in Milwaukee.

For some young people, the pitch might be practical: Learning written Rohingya could help teenagers translate technical language and complicated documents for their parents. For others, the draw could be more existential. “When they become preteens and teenagers,” Trumbull said, they might “grasp the importance of what it means to have lost their language.” 

Even if the nonprofit can muster a critical mass of interested young people interested in Rohingya literacy, Trumbull noted, BRCW lacks money and bandwidth to organize formal classes.

The nonprofit seeks grants to support structured outreach, including its earlier work with “Sesame Street.” If all goes well, Anwar and Trumbull hope to offer Rohingya language lessons through BRCW’s after-school religious classes. Aside from Kuykendall’s smaller-scale work with students in Dallas, a BRCW Rohingya language class would be the first of its kind in the country.

‘I am concerned that my kids will never learn’ 

Those offerings would need buy-in from Rohingya parents like Umi Salmah and Mohammed Rafik, a couple raising three children in Milwaukee.

Rafik, 43, still thinks of Anwar as his teacher. Back in Myanmar, Anwar offered English lessons to young people in his home village — Rafik included.

After fleeing to Malaysia as a young man, Rafik spent early adulthood as a landscaper in Kuala Lumpur. Many of his relatives stayed behind long enough to witness a 2017 ethnic cleansing campaign that killed thousands and drove more than half of Myanmar’s remaining Rohingya into crowded refugee camps in Bangladesh, where Rohingya children are barred from attending public schools. U.S. State Department officials later described the attacks as acts of genocide.Those who remain in Myanmar are now caught in the crossfire of the country’s civil war, and the country’s military has begun conscripting Rohingya men even while denying them citizenship.

More than a dozen members of Rafik’s immediate family drowned while en route to Bangladesh in 2024, as have hundreds of other refugees fleeing Myanmar by boat. 

“Everything’s lost,” he said, clasping his hands together. “Language lost. Culture lost. People lost. Village lost.”

Rafik’s formal education ended after seventh grade. Salmah, on the other hand, completed high school in Myanmar before leaving for Malaysia, where the couple married. The military has since burned her home village.

They relocated to Milwaukee after six years in Dallas, where they initially settled after securing refugee status. Both are naturalized citizens; their children were born in the U.S.

Though the couple speaks Rohingya at home, their children “can’t speak back,” Salmah said. “Now I am concerned that my kids will never learn.”

Salmah is unusually well-positioned to teach her children to read Rohingya. She completed a degree in early childhood education at Milwaukee Area Technical College, and she has a knack for languages. Aside from English and Rohingya, Salmah can also speak and read in Burmese and Malay.

But even if she had the time to teach her children to read Rohingya — she’s currently working on a degree in phlebotomy — Salmah would first need to teach herself. Flipping to a page of a children’s book in the BRCW office, Salmah sounded out a passage letter by letter. “I have to pay so much attention to read that,” she said.

Rohingya literacy education “is not going to work at home” for most Rohingya families, Rafik said. Most parents have little to no formal education of their own, so many would need to learn to read as adults before they could teach their children.

People fluent in both Rohingya and English are often already busy providing translation services, and asking those ideal candidates to volunteer their time is a tall order. Like Salmah, any teaching candidate must also learn the Rohingya script alongside students. “I (need to) start from the beginning,” Anwar said. “From the ABCs.”

Precedent in Hmong experience

If BRCW’s efforts gain traction, Milwaukee’s Rohingya community would not be the first group of refugees in the Midwest to give a struggling written language a new lease on life.

The century-old church that now houses BRCW previously belonged to a Hmong Christian congregation — the last community to pull off this feat. 

Thousands of Hmong refugees settled in the upper Midwest beginning in the late 1970s, when the U.S. withdrawal from Vietnam made allies, including many Hmong working alongside American forces in Laos, targets for retaliation. Fifty years later, Hmong refugees still outnumber any other refugee group in Wisconsin. More than 60,000 Wisconsinites identified as Hmong in 2020 — the third-largest Hmong population in the country behind Minnesota and California.

Like more recent Rohingya arrivals, Hmong refugees arrived in the U.S. without a widely used written language. Christian missionaries in Laos developed a version of Hmong in the Latin script in the 1950s, but that system “did not stick,” said Bee Vang-Moua, the director of the Hmong language program at the University of Minnesota.

The mass displacement of thousands of Hmong in the 1970s became a catalyst for Hmong literacy’s rise, Vang-Moua explained. Hmong refugees in the U.S. and in refugee camps in Thailand initially communicated by recording messages on cassette tapes, but that system was difficult to sustain. “It was very expensive,” she said, “so everyone that could learn (to write) tried to learn.”

The introduction of cellphones slowed the uptake of Hmong writing, but only briefly. “Social media has boosted the need to read and write Hmong,” Vang-Moua said, because online networks connected Hmong speakers in the U.S. with Hmong speakers in Southeast Asia or Europe — primarily on text-based platforms like Facebook. The Latin-based script used by American Hmong speakers is now replacing versions of written Hmong developed independently in China and Vietnam, she added, because of the cultural influence of the diaspora in the U.S.

The emergence of Hmong language immersion schools further boosted the written language, Vang-Moua added. Milwaukee’s Hmong American Peace Academy, the first of its kind in Wisconsin, opened in 2004 with 200 students; Appleton’s Hmong American Immersion School opened last year. 

Meanwhile, some Hmong groups have begun using the script to preserve community elders’ oral traditions in written form. 

Given the unpredictable trajectory of Hmong literacy, Vang-Moua noted that the project underway in Milwaukee’s Rohingya community still has time to find its footing. “I’ve often wondered how it all felt” in the early stages of Hmong language education,” she said. “Here we are, talking about the same things, just with a different community.”

Can the effort last?

A Rohingya charter school is a distant goal for Anwar and Trumbull. An after-school Rohingya class would serve as a trial run, and it could give teenagers a chance to test using written Rohingya in their everyday lives.

But BRCW must also contend with parents’ priorities. Rafik and Salmah, for instance, say Rohingya language education can’t distract from other classes, including religious education. 

They aren’t alone. Mohamed Ibrahim, owner of a Rohingya restaurant and grocery store on Milwaukee’s South Side, sees a practical use for written Rohingya. Though he is Rohingya by ancestry, he grew up speaking Burmese in Yangon, Myanmar’s former capital. Rohingya-language educational materials could help him communicate more easily with his Rohingya-speaking customers, Ibrahim said, but he doesn’t have time to study it.

Ibrahim has similar reservations about adding Rohingya language lessons to his children’s routines. “They live in the United States now,” he said. “We have to support our kids in English.”

Meanwhile, Milwaukee’s Rohingya face a new set of hurdles.

The Trump administration’s January 2025 decision to largely end refugee resettlement halted Salmah’s efforts to bring several family members from refugee camps in Bangladesh to Milwaukee. Last year, Anwar sent voice notes to the nonprofit’s WhatsApp group reminding refugees of their rights during run-ins with federal immigration authorities.  And last year, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services began reopening the cases of thousands of refugees admitted under the Biden administration — a policy that could impact many in Milwaukee’s Rohingya community.

Under the circumstances, Anwar and Trumbull aren’t bullish on their project’s short-term prospects. “But when you make things, sometimes they don’t go away,” Trumbull said.

Editor’s note: This story was updated from its original version to add clarifying details.

‘Language lost. Culture lost’: In Milwaukee, a race to keep Rohingya language alive in exile is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

A large and diverse crowd packed a community center on Milwaukee’s  south side Thursday, calling for the release of Salah Sarsour, president of the Islamic Society of Milwaukee. Sarsour, who is of Palestinian descent, was detained by federal immigration agents Monday morning. His supporters are calling Sarsour’s arrest an targeted act of political retaliation designed to chill opposition to the Israeli government and support for the Palestinian people.

“This is a man who came to the United States and kind of lived the American dream,” Othman Atta, executive director of the Islamic Society of Milwaukee, told the audience of community members, press, activists, and local elected officials. “And they are trying to tarnish his image. They’re trying to target him.”

A green card holder and lawful permanent resident, Sarsour has lived in the United States for over 30 years. “The U.S. government fully vetted his visa application at that time,” Kathryn Brady, head of the Muslim Legal Fund of America’s Immigration Litigation Department, said in a statement Wednesday. Brady said that it’s difficult to believe that the federal government’s “position now is not rooted in a violation of his First Amendment right to speak about the suffering of Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank.”

Atta said that on Monday Sarsour stopped at an old warehouse on Milwaukee’s south side which he owned because mail kept arriving there. As he left, a car came on the wrong side of the street “flying toward him,” said Atta, forcing Sarsour to jump out of the way. The unmarked car stopped and a person allegedly in civilian clothes pointed a gun at Sarsour and asked who he was by name. 

Atta said 12 vehicles were involved in the arrest, and Sarsour was loaded into a van before being told he was being taken by federal immigration officers. 

Atta said that the story was relayed to Sarsour’s attorney Munjed Ahmad during a phone call in which Sarsour declared that he was a lion and willing to fight. Sarsour was transported to the Broadview Detention Center in Illinois before being quickly transferred to another facility in Indiana, Atta said.  

“This is America,” said Atta. “This is Trump’s America.” 

He described Sarsour as a husband, father, grandfather, and a successful business owner who has no criminal record or convictions. 

“According to the papers that were filed in immigration court, they went back to when he was a minor — a teenager — in the West Bank under Israeli occupation,” said Atta. 

When he was a teenager, Sarsour was arrested and detained by the Israeli police. “He served two years,” said Atta. “Many of you who know him know that his passion for Palestine, his passion for justice, was based on the experience he had and that his family and friends had. He would talk to us many times how for 80 straight days, he was interrogated, and brutalized, and tortured while he was in Israeli military custody.” 

Palestinians living both in the West Bank and the region of Gaza, which has suffered catastrophic damage and where tens of thousands of people have been killed during attacks by the Israeli government in the last two and a half years, have reported similar abuse. 

In 2024, the United Nations found that due process rights for Palestinians had been violated in the West Bank for nearly 60 years. Last year, charges were dropped against five Israeli soldiers accused of beating and sexually abusing a Palestinian prisoner in an assault that was captured in a video. A top legal official in the Israeli military admitted to approving the video’s release in an effort to show the world how the over 9,000 Palestinians detained by Israel are treated, the Associated Press reported. 

Al Jazeera reported that the bodies of Palestinians released as part of a ceasefire deal between Israel and militant factions of Hamas exhibited signs of torture including restraints and injuries still evident on the dead. 

The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) said in a statement Thursday that Sarsour was convicted of throwing Molotov cocktails at the homes of Israeli armed forces.” In the statement, which repeatedly called Sarsour a “terrorist” and an “illegal alien from Jordan,” DHS charged that he “lied” on his green card application to enter the country in 1993 during the Clinton administration, and that his first attempts to apply for an immigrant visa at the American consulate in Jerusalem were rebuffed because of those allegations and others of “illegally attempting to possess” weapons and ammunition. 

Atta and Sarsour’s supportive community urged onlookers Thursday not to forget the reports about Israel’s treatment of Palestinians. 

Atta said that Sarsour was again detained by the Israeli government after returning in 1995, which is where the weapons allegations came from, and that the written charges were in Hebrew, “which he doesn’t read or understand.”

Sarsour’s son, Kareem, was joined by other members of his family Thursday. Over the last two days, the family has been “bombarded” with “thousands of messages from all the people who knew him saying what he meant to them as a father-figure, as a role model, as a beloved community member, it just tells you who he was,” said Kareem Sarsour. Kareem described his father as “always giving” and said that Sarsour had tried to give his children everything he couldn’t have when he lived in the West Bank. 

The crowd that assembled to support Sarsour and his family included many Muslim residents, local activists, and elected officials, with Milwaukee County Executive David Crowley and  Mayor Cavalier Johnson in the front row, and further back, Alds. JoCasta Zamarripa and Alex Brower. Christine Neumann-Oriz, executive director of Voces de la Frontera, was in the audience, and speakers from Jewish Voice for Peace joined Muslim and Christian faith leaders in denouncing Sarsour’s detention and calling for his release.

A flurry of Wisconsin lawmakers and local officials have condemned Sarsour’s arrest. Sen. Chris Larson (D-Milwaukee) said in a statement that the federal government was “increasingly fascist”  and called Sarsour “a vocal advocate for a free and independent Palestinian State.” 

“We have already seen numerous Muslim activists unfairly and unlawfully targeted by the Trump Administration for their beliefs and their speech,” Larson wrote. “These Unconstitutional assaults on our freedoms should alarm all of us. When any individual or group is targeted by the government for their speech, all of our freedoms are threatened.” 

Congresswoman Gwen Moore called Sarsour’s detention “completely unacceptable.” “Salah Sarsour is a respected leader in the Milwaukee community, and his detention raises serious concerns about the continued targeting of lawful residents based on the color of their skin or their political beliefs,” she said.

Rep. Ryan Clancy (D-Milwaukee) charged that Sarsour’s detention was an attack on free speech. “Until free expression and free speech are protected, not treated as a privilege of the Trump Administration’s loudest supporters, this openly fascist government should be neither trusted nor obeyed,” Clancy said in a statement. “We must abolish ICE and hold those responsible for these repeated acts of state violence accountable.” 

Statements supporting Sarsour were also put out by the Council on American-Islamic Relations, the Mandela Barnes for governor campaign, and the Milwaukee Area Labor Council Immigrant Rights Committee. 

Ahmad said that he’s “shocked” at how many communications he’s received from attorneys around the country on Sarsour’s case. “We have assembled a very capable legal team, that legal team continues to grow,” said Ahmad, declaring that they will work to free Sarsour. A hearing is scheduled on April 18. 

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Milwaukee County Executive David Crowley and County Board President Marcelia Nicholson-Bovell signed legislation Wednesday afternoon reaffirming the county’s commitment to adhering to the goals of the 2016 Paris Climate agreement. 

“In Milwaukee County, we know that the climate crisis is a real, pressing threat to our environment, our economy, our health, and our quality of life,” Crowley said at the gathering beside other officials at the Urban Ecology Center of Washington Park. 

The international agreement called on nations to adopt policies to keep average global temperatures from increasing more than 2 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels. The United States joined nearly 200 global nations and states in signing onto the agreement under President Barack Obama. President Donald Trump pulled out of the agreement after he was sworn into office in 2017 and, after President Joe Biden rejoined the agreement, again in 2025.  Trump has called the agreement “unfair,” “one-sided,” and a “rip-off.” Since the Trump administration exited the agreement, state and local governments across the country have signaled their aims to stick with the agreement’s aims. 

Milwaukee County first signed onto the Paris Climate Accords in 2017. The county’s goal is to reach net-zero operational emissions by 2050. The event Wednesday was held on the first day of Earth Month.

Crowley praised Milwaukee’s efforts towards reducing carbon emissions and climate resiliency despite being in a time “when federal climate leadership is stepping back.” He said at the event that the county has reduced its emissions by nearly 50% since 2005. 

Nicholson-Bovell echoed the sentiment.

“Milwaukee County continues leading the way in the march toward a more environmentally sustainable community,” she said. “Our legislation recommits Milwaukee County to the Paris Agreement and Greenhouse Gas Endangerment Finding, because our children’s future depends on how we combat the climate crisis and build the equitable future we all deserve.” 

Crowley and Nicholson-Bovell were joined by Milwaukee County Supervisors Felesia Martin, Anne O’Connor and Sky Capriolo.

The Urban Ecology Center itself is an example of the steps Milwaukee County has taken towards reaching net-zero. The Washington Park center was recently renovated, becoming the first all-electric non-residential building in Milwaukee County, the center’s executive director, Jen Hense, explained. 

Now the building creates zero emissions and, with the planned installation of 100 new solar panels next week, is set to reduce its energy consumption by about one-third.

When the building was renovated, about 60% of its original structure was re-used. Some of the wood used in the renovations was also reclaimed from trees felled by Milwaukee County to combat the emerald ash borer insect. Bird-safe glass had also been installed, so far decreasing the number of collisions the building is responsible for. Surrounding the ecology center are ponds where people often fish, and the center works to re-introduce native plants to assist local ecosystems.

Hense stressed the importance of the Urban Ecology Center’s work. There are over 35,000 young people who attend outdoor and science programs at the county’s three Urban Ecology Centers, and more than 600,000 people visit the green spaces the center stewards in Riverside Park, Washington Park, and Menomonee Valley. 

“We know that these natural spaces, and hundreds more across the county — that are loved and cared for by amazing individuals and incredible environmental organizations — are important to our community, and are essential to protect for generations to come,” said Hense. “We know that combatting the global climate crisis can start right here in the county, and that this work is truly an act of environmental justice.” 

Nicholson-Bovell recalled growing up in a Milwaukee neighborhood where the nearest park didn’t have grass. She said that she was born premature with under-developed lungs, a condition worsened by the air pollution in her community. Studies have shown that increasing the number of urban trees would help improve polluted air conditions. 

“The environment that I grew up in had been ripped apart by the building of a freeway,” said Nicholson-Bovell. “And it was little kids like me who struggled to breathe in our communities. We didn’t have access to clean air, we didn’t have access to green space. And when I became a Milwaukee County supervisor, I promised that no child that I could help support would ever have to experience that again.”

Crowley said visiting the county’s parks reminds him “of just how lucky we are to have accessible access to beautiful green spaces like the one that we are in today.” He stressed that having this “in our backyard” should never be “taken for granted” while highlighting the success the county has already achieved at reducing its climate impact. “And it is because, and through, our office of sustainability that we remain focused on building green infrastructure, creating local sustainability jobs, and making sure that every single neighborhood is part of our climate solution,” said Crowley. 

Crowley said that partnership and collaboration with higher levels of government will be needed to fully accomplish the county’s climate goals. Yet that assistance is unlikely to come from the current federal government. Trump has repeatedly called climate change a hoax. Under Trump, the Environmental Protection Agency also repealed the 2009 endangerment finding that greenhouse gases threaten public health. During both Trump Administrations, climate data and even the words “climate change” have been purged from federal websites. Climate policies at the state level have also been blocked or frustrated by Wisconsin’s Republican-controlled legislature. 

Grant Helle, director of the Milwaukee County Office of Sustainability, said that “while federal climate leadership declines, Milwaukee County is taking action.” Helle said that local action is “not optional, but essential.” Helle noted that the new Marcia P. Coggs Health and Human Services Center will have on-site solar which will off-set over 11% of that facility’s energy use. The county is also re-thinking how building design could impact climate change, an issue which Helle said residents are concerned about. 

A stream of extreme weather events in recent months and years have likely fueled those concerns. Just weeks ago, people in parts of Wisconsin endured a historic blizzard, receiving so much snow that plow services needed to be shut down. Some Milwaukee communities still haven’t fully recovered from record-breaking amounts of rain and flooding that swept through the city in August. The Trump Administration has denied multiple requests for assistance and flood relief made by Wisconsin communities. 

Extreme heat gripped areas of the state in 2023, coinciding with increased wildfire activity within the state, while smoke from fires in Canada worsened air quality. Severe storms also hit Milwaukee and other Wisconsin communities in 2022 and 2021. O’Connor recalled the floods of 2010, where people were “literally canoeing down the street where I live in my district.” 

Crowley said that the August floods should be an indication that the midwest is not safe from climate change. 

“That tells us how do we build infrastructure that is resilient, and how do we think long term making sure that this planet is continuously livable for our young people and for many generations moving forward,” he said. 

Nicholson-Bovell said that the floods were devastating, but that climate change is a national issue. “My husband I met in St. Louis,” she said. “They had a historic tornado rip through the inner-city of St. Louis and they’re still scrambling to try and find housing for individuals.” 

Helle said that increased flooding, harsher heatwaves, and worse air quality are climate hazards Milwaukeeans are already experiencing. “It’s really unfortunate,” said Helle. “But what it does is go to show that we need to continue to make efforts here in Milwaukee County right now where we can to lower the impact on those residents that we ultimately serve.” 

 

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Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service invites community members to submit opinion pieces of 500-800 words on topics of interest to central city Milwaukee. To send a submission for consideration, please email info@milwaukeenns.org. The views expressed are solely those of the authors.

There is a kind of pain that does not wait its turn. It crashes into your life, rearranges everything you thought you understood about safety, justice and faith, and then expects you to keep going.

This is not just about grief. This is about trauma and grief, intertwined, unfolding in real time in our homes, schools, workplaces and communities.

I know this kind of pain intimately.

My brother Sam

My siblings were my first friends. My brother Sam was my twin in every way that mattered. We shared a bunk bed, childhood routines and milestones. We grew up side by side, experiencing life in sync in a way only siblings that close can understand.

He was part of my beginning.

And then, suddenly, he was gone. 

NNS wrote about it here. 

My brother was taken in a violent and publicly misunderstood way. While the investigation unfolded over months, narratives spread in hours. His life was debated in real time. People stepped into the roles of judge, jury and executioner before the facts had even begun to surface.

What I experienced was not just grief, but the added trauma of watching my brother’s humanity be debated and misrepresented in real time.

And then there is the part people do not talk about enough.

Reliving our tragedy

His death was broadcast and circulated repeatedly, forcing our family to relive a moment we were already struggling to survive. And even after the headlines fade, the process continues. 

Legal cases, policy discussions, public commentary. Each step pulls you back into the trauma.

It follows you. In the news. In conversations. In the things you used to enjoy.

This is what navigating trauma and grief looks like in real time. It is not a single moment. It is ongoing.

I am a grown woman, well into my 40s, and nothing prepared me for this. And still, in the middle of that devastation, I was expected to show up to work, to function, to perform.

Three days

That is what we give people to grieve.

Three days to process a lifetime of connection. Three days to make arrangements, gather family and return as if something that significant can be contained and concluded.

Three days is not enough for natural loss.

So it is certainly not enough for loss that is sudden, violent or intentional.

And this is not exclusive to murder.

Trauma lives in all loss. Illness. Old age. Accidents. The loss of a child. Some loss we may anticipate, but none of it prepares us.

Yet the expectation remains the same: return to normal.

We have built systems that understand the need to bond with life, but not the need to grieve its loss. We offer time to welcome a child into the world, but minimal time to process losing one.

What kind of system measures productivity with more care than it measures pain?

We earn more time off to rest from work than we are given to recover from loss.

And it forces a deeper question:

How pro-life are we, really?

Because what we see does not reflect a culture that values life in a meaningful way. We see cruelty in comment sections, judgment attached to loss and a detachment that forgets every headline represents a real person and a real family.

Cycle of trauma continues

Trauma does not end when the news cycle moves on.

It lives in the people who are still here.

It lives in individuals carrying invisible weight, in people one moment, one word, one interaction away from the edge.

And when that trauma goes unprocessed, we see the consequences.

People snap.

And then we ask children and teenagers to be resilient in environments where even adults are barely holding it together.

We expect them to focus, to behave, to perform, while ignoring a critical truth: Their brains are not fully developed. They do not yet have the tools to process trauma and grief at this level.

So when we see emotional outbursts, withdrawal, defiance or risky behavior, we rush to label it.

But what if what we are witnessing is not defiance but distress?

What if something has gone wrong emotionally, mentally, developmentally, and no one has stopped long enough to ask why?

And it may not always be loss. It could be trauma in all its forms.

When trauma goes unaddressed, it does not disappear. It shows up.

This is not a failure of character. This is the impact of unprocessed trauma and grief.

Hard questions and a simple truth

So we have to ask:

Who decided that three days was enough? Enough for who? Enough for what kind of loss?

Why are people forced to prove how close they were to someone in order to be granted the space to grieve?

What about chosen family? Do they matter less?

How do we expect people to return to life carrying something that has not even begun to settle?

Have we truly gone so far to the dark side that we no longer have compassion for people who have lost loved ones, regardless of how they left this place?

How do we continue to call ourselves compassionate while enforcing timelines on pain?

Because the truth is simple.

Three days ain’t enough.

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Angelique Sharpe, known in the community as “MsLadyInc,” works at the intersection of broken systems and resilient people. She lifts their voice and helps organize solutions. You can visit her website here.

Opinion: 3 days ain’t enough. Grief, trauma and the expectation to perform is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

Connection, compassion and hope — those are the three key elements members of the Milwaukee Overdose Response Initiative (MORI) say helped lower overdose deaths to levels unseen in Milwaukee County since 2016. “It’s MORI in conjunction with this whole community,” Jonathan Belott, a lieutenant with the Milwaukee Fire Department, told the Wisconsin Examiner. 

“We don’t live in a silo,” said Belott, who’s led the overdose response initiative since its inception in 2019. “We have so many of our different partners that we have come to rely on to get people the help that they need throughout this community.” 

Last year there were 383 fatal overdoses in Milwaukee, the lowest number in a decade, according to the county’s overdose dashboard. That marked a significant reversal of the recent overdose epidemic that peaked in 2022, with 674 fatal overdoses in Milwaukee, fueled by widespread contamination of cocaine, heroin, prescription pills, and other substances with the powerful synthetic opioid fentanyl.

As the crisis accelerated in 2019, Belott was assigned to head a new strategy. “I didn’t even know what I was getting into in that moment,” he told the Examiner, sitting beside fellow firefighter and team supervisor Robert Rehberger and peer support specialist Amy Molinski — both members of the overdose response initiative — at the team’s homebase fire station on Fiebrantz Avenue. 

“I didn’t understand even the full impact of what it was,” said Belott. “I was kind of just told, ‘Hey, you’re going to be this guy.’ But the more you get into it, the more you see how it has been impacting people’s lives over these years…We watched those numbers go up and up…Just a crazy amount of people.”  

Between 2017 and 2025, 4,582 people died across Milwaukee County. Nationwide, overdose deaths became more common than those caused by homicide, car accidents or suicide. The people who died were brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers. Some were children younger than 5, others were elders in their 70s. Most were people between 20 and 60 years old. They were unhoused, working class and wealthy people from numerous ethnic and racial backgrounds. Even in Milwaukee — one of America’s most segregated cities — addiction and death have never discriminated.

Every year seemed worse than the last as record-breaking numbers of Milwaukeeans died. “And then we saw just a little decline,” said Belott. Overdose deaths fell by more than 30% in 2024, followed by a sharp drop in 2025. “You’re talking 50% less people dying over the course of the three years,” Rehberger said of the most recent numbers.  

“I’ll say it’s bittersweet,” said Molinski. “And I’ll say that because the number of deaths that we have are still too many. It’s unfortunate that it had to get as high as it did before people were willing to do anything about it.”

Milwaukee’s sharp decrease in overdose deaths mirrors a nationwide trend, tied to stepped-up treatment and harm reduction efforts as well as a shrinking fentanyl supply.

Building a program from scratch

Belott credited Michael Murphy, who served on the common council, with helping steer the first $100,000 to the fire department to start an overdose reduction program. “To his credit, he recognized that we had to do something different than what we were doing,” Belott told the Examiner. 

Although it was just enough money to get a program off the ground, there were questions about what such a program would actually look like. “We had to make the program from absolutely nothing,” said Belott. “Like this didn’t exist anywhere that we knew. …We didn’t base it off anything.” The team itself started off very small. “It was like three hours a day for Monday through Friday,” said Rehberger. “And now we got four teams going out every day doing this work. And it’s just proud to see like,  something come from it.”

The Milwaukee Overdose Response Initiative started by using the fire department’s access to 911 call data to identify people who had survived an overdose within the last 24-48 hours. From there, team members would go out to find those people, and see whether there was any help they could provide. “Help” doesn’t have to mean pressuring someone to go into rehab — although the Milwaukee overdose team also regularly works to get people into treatment programs. With time, the team realized that “help” can also mean getting someone clothes, food, providing them with narcan and other harm reduction supplies, and offering compassionate and non-judgmental support.

Molinski recalled one girl who called the overdose response team because she needed a ride to her psych appointment. “It’s cold, she didn’t want to walk,” Molinski recalled. “So we picked her up and we took her there. We stopped at the food pantry along the way so that she could get some food.”

“Help” can also mean checking in on family members who recently lost a loved one to the overdose crisis, and ensuring they have access to the resources they’ll need to process their loss. Belott said that acts like these are about providing “basic humanity for the people that we work with.” Molinski echoed the sentiment. “It’s helping to eliminate some of the struggle,” she told the Examiner. “We all want to quit when it’s hard.”

The Milwaukee overdose team also had to focus on how it would grow to meet those needs. Like Belott, Rehberger didn’t know what to expect when he joined the team. “I volunteered but I didn’t really know exactly what I was volunteering for at the time,” he told the Examiner. When the team decided to add addiction peer support specialists, Molinski, who is employed by Community Medical Services, a medication-assisted treatment clinic, was brought on. The team’s vehicles, modestly marked with the fire department’s logo and “community paramedics” on the trunk, usually carry two firefighters and one peer supporter.

Working on the overdose response team, Molinski grew to understand just how much people respected the Milwaukee Fire Department. “These guys [firefighters] got rolled into it, and I don’t think that there’s any way that you can’t say that that helped impact the success that we see today,” Molinski, who got into the peer support field after enduring her own battles with addiction, said. When overdose survivors “get greeted by someone in a uniform that doesn’t judge them, tries to take the shame out of what they’re doing and say ‘your life is worth saving, like not just on the street last night but moving forward,’ that means a lot,” she said.

As the overdose response effort evolved, so did team members’ understanding of the epidemic, themselves, and each other. “There was a lot of humility in the beginning,” said Molinski. “There was a lot of us having to look at one another and sometimes kindly, sometimes very directly, [saying] like, ‘Hey, what you just did wasn’t right.’” 

Molinski admitted that “I’m a little rough around the edges” and “I’ve kind of always done things my own way.” She grew to appreciate what representing the fire department meant. “So you can be you, just tone down just a little bit,” she said. “And I needed to hear that. …We learned from one another.” The firefighters learned how to loosen up and Molinski learned how to tighten up, she said, “and we were kind of able to share that with everybody as they came.” 

A conversation, not an interrogation

Firefighters who joined the team also often had to rethink how they approach people struggling with addiction. As emergency responders, Belott and Rehberger were trained to stabilize people, patch them up, and transport them to a hospital in the middle of a crisis. In order to succeed, however, the overdose response effort demanded a completely different modus operandi.

“For us, we’re not there in the crisis moment,” Belott explained. “We’re there following the crisis moment. So we have time…we sit down and we have a conversation, not an interrogation, which is what I used to do at the beginning.” 

“If you have a conversation with somebody, you learn about them…Because a conversation flows,” Molinski said. Rehberger called it “asking a question in a different way, and listening.”

This allowed team members, especially those with no personal experience with addiction, to see a whole new side of the epidemic and what it meant for people fighting to stay alive. The conversations they had affected them deeply, allowing them to experience the gratitude the people they tried to help felt  for anyone willing to treat them with dignity. “Before I came here, one of the things that I wasn’t expecting was how much relationship you grow with the people that we’re meeting,” said Rehberger. “I feel like I was just thinking that it was going to be mostly like a 911 call, you know? Like you’re helping the person in that moment.” Rehberger wasn’t used to people being so grateful on calls that they gave him giant hugs. “Never did I think that I was going to be hugging someone while on the fire department. Ever.” 

Molinski recalled her first month with the overdose response team. “It was in the middle of the summer, it was hot, they didn’t have air conditioning,” Molinski recounted. “He was wearing no shirt, he was smoking cigarettes in his apartment, and it was a lot. And as we left, I hugged him goodbye.” Belott was taken aback, quipping that Molinski was “all in.” The peer support specialist explained that it may have been a very long time since that man had felt “a caring human touch.” 

What winning looks like

Even for Molinski, who’d experienced her own addiction to heroin and other drugs, the conditions people survived day-to-day were startling. “Our stories of addiction while we were in active addiction are insane,” Molinski told the Examiner. People living with an active addiction may or may not have stable housing, regular access to food, hygiene products, transportation, work, or even trustworthy people. Sometimes, the overdose response team would find people only to lose track of them again for over a year.

“They probably lost three phones in those 18 months,” said Molinski. Yet, out of the blue, the same person who couldn’t hold onto a phone might call the overdose response team for help because they had managed to keep a team member’s business card. “I mean, think about that for a second,” said Molinski, “how hard it is to keep track of your property when you’re in active addiction, but somehow a business card was still there to call.” 

Other times, team members learned firsthand just how hard it is for people to stop using drugs. “People are trying,” said Molinski. “… not everybody is just choosing to stay in their addiction. Some of them don’t see a way out. They’ve tried and they can’t get out. And when you see that, it’s easier to treat people with a little bit more compassion. Give somebody a little bit of grace as to why they’re still in that situation.”

Rehberger remembered checking on a woman, who contacted the team saying that she didn’t have any clothes. “I didn’t know what that meant, honestly,” said Rehberger. When team members met the woman they realized that she literally didn’t have clothes to wear. So they got her clothes, then food, and then they returned to see if she’d go into treatment. When they did, the woman told them, “Honestly, I would never have gone in for treatment the next day had you not gotten me the food first,” Rehberger recounted. 

Belott said that simply getting through the door to have a conversation was a success. “If they’re willing to sit down and talk with some strangers in uniform, that’s an amazing thing,” he said. “And we show up and they know, OK, somebody’s following up, somebody gives a crap about me.” 

Team members have dropped off birthday cupcakes to people living in homeless encampments, and celebrated “clean days,” marking milestones for people who’ve quit drugs. Molinski recalled one unhoused man the team had been trying to locate for a long time. After connecting with his grandparents, the team was able to arrange for him to get into detox before going off to a residential facility. It turned out the man was living near an alley. He conveyed to the team that he didn’t want members to park too close to the site.  So they stood near a pizza sign, yelled his name, and he came out accompanied by a friend. “My buddy needs help, too,” he said. 

The overdose response team’s efforts were the subject of intense debate in the community. Team members often found themselves fighting the stigma and shame attached to addiction. Some people were confused about why the team tried so hard, even questioning whether the city would be better off just letting people die. With patience and much labor, however, some people’s minds changed. Belott wondered, “How many 10-minute conversations have we had over the years? And how many minds [were] changed by doing that?” 

Success can be measured in concrete results like the lower number of fatal overdoses. But not every achievement can be recorded on a spreadsheet, and not every good deed results in a life saved.

About eight months into the program, team members were working with a young woman they had come to know well.  “We actually got told that we weren’t allowed to see her anymore,” said Molinski. “We were too invested…She saw us a lot. She was not in good shape. This girl was struggling. And we just kept going to see her. And we didn’t know how we were going to help her, if we could help her. We had no idea what to do.” First they tried reaching her parents, who were exhausted by their daughter’s  addiction. The mother hadn’t seen her in over 200 days, and the father didn’t want her back home because she was prone to stealing. 

Team members eventually found out that she was sustaining herself as a sex worker on Milwaukee’s North Side. Besides her addiction, she also suffered from the condition endocarditis which causes inflammation of the heart. Team members accompanied her to the hospital so that she could get a Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter (PICC) line, a procedure which frightened her.

Then one day the team got a call from a man she was staying with, saying that she was lying in the bathroom and couldn’t get up. She was rushed to the emergency room. She asked team members to bring some of her favorite treats, a Sprite and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, when they visited. 

It was her thirtieth birthday when the team visited the hospital and brought her a blanket and a book to read. “She was completely unconscious, unable to speak in any way,” said Molinski. “And then the day after that, her family called [Belott] and I and said, ‘We’ve made the decision to take her off of life support. And we would like to invite you guys to come and say goodbye if you would like.’” 

Molinski said that she and Belott “were too invested…We were all f-ing in…And we went, and we cried over her bed, and we said goodbye to her, and her family took her off life support, and that sucked.” Yet, Molinski also had texts that the young lady sent her saying that she loved them, and that knowing them was the first time in years that she felt that anyone cared about her. “And she died,” Molinski said, shedding tears, “but she died feeling loved.” Her parents saw that love, too. “I don’t care what anybody says…The numbers say that was a fail,” said Molinski. “They weren’t there. It wasn’t a fail. …We made that girl feel like she was worth something before she left the world. We met her too late, we couldn’t help her. But she felt loved when she left.”

Despite the loss, the team knew that they’d done something good that day. “I think about her all the time,” said Molinski. Belott, the team leader who was sitting near her and Rehberger, wiped tears from his eyes. 

“I still have a list of the books that she wanted me to bring her when she was in the hospital. I can’t delete it off my phone,” said Molinski. “She made an impact on me. And we were told to stop. And we didn’t stop.” 

What Milwaukee needs to keep overdose deaths down

Since the Milwaukee Overdose Response Initiative began its work in 2019, Milwaukee County has made great strides against the overdose and addiction epidemics. Narcan — the crucial spray-medication used to revive an overdose victim — can be found in bars, grocery stores, hospitals, restaurants, and free-to-use vending machines. Not only is Narcan carried by firefighters and other emergency responders, but ordinary people can be trained to use it. “Keep that Narcan flowing out there,” Belott stressed. 

Several Milwaukee County communities have adopted their own kinds of overdose response teams. The West Allis fire department, which recently integrated with Wauwatosa’s, has launched one such effort. The state of Wisconsin also legalized testing strips both for fentanyl and xylazine — a potent tranquilizer — allowing people to check drugs for dangerous substances before using them. New treatment centers have opened in parts of the county. Even within local jails, people are able to access medication-assisted treatment and take the first steps towards recovery.

Many of those resources are also distributed by the Milwaukee Overdose Response Initiative  for free in the form of “Hope Kits.” Similar to a small plastic purse, with the word “Hope” printed on it in bright red lettering, the kits are stocked with Narcan, testing strips and contact information for treatment centers, therapy, and groups like Narcotics Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous. All frontline firefighters are deployed with Hope Kits.

The Milwaukee overdose response team’s work is funded by opioid settlement funds, paid out by the pharmaceutical companies that helped spark the opioid epidemic. With those funds, and additional grants, the team is able to keep the lights on and grow its coterie of firefighters, peer support specialists, vehicles, and harm reduction resources. “We’re proud of MORI,” Belott told the Examiner. 

Treatment is still in short supply. Often, the team is forced to look for residential treatment beds outside of Milwaukee County. Sometimes that’s a good idea for people who need to sever their old connections. But for those facing transportation challenges, it can be difficult. Molinski, Belott and Rehberger also said no residential treatment centers in Milwaukee have proper accommodations for people with disabilities.

“There is none. Zero,” said Molinski. “Not a single place where someone can get help in a wheelchair. Or somebody that simply hurt themselves while using and is on crutches, they also can’t go.” 

Ultimately, the greatest resource the overdose response team can provide is hope. Regardless of what they’ve done, or experienced, people’s lives are worth saving, team members said. In Molinski’s case, it was disconnection and feeling empty that led her into drug use, and it was connection and hope that pulled her out of it.  

“My life was worth saving,” said Molinski. “It would’ve been really hard to convince someone of that back in 2006, 2007…That would’ve been a tough sell. My parents were starting to wonder if it was worth it for them to keep fighting. But it was worth it!” Today, she is raising a teenage daughter, and works in a field where she can help people who struggle like she did. But to get there, Molinski had to keep trying. “I never dreamt that this was waiting for me,” she said.

This article has been edited to reflect that Ald. Michael Murphy helped steer funds to get the overdose team started, not Ashanti Hamilton.

On this Sunday, March 29 — Palm Sunday on the Christian calendar — the Rev. Rachel Kirk will be among a procession of Christians gathering at the state Capitol building in Madison to assert their spiritual resistance to the actions of the administration of President Donald Trump.

Kirk, associate pastor for Community and Faith Formation at Middleton Community United Church of Christ, is one of the organizers for the Palm Sunday Path in Madison, an initiative promoted by the Wisconsin Council of Churches that will have variations across the state. 

It will take place the day after Saturday’s No Kings rallies across the country protesting Trump, and Kirk says the two events share similar objectives: “to challenge unjust power structures and the deterioration of democracy.” But she expects the Palm Sunday Path to offer a different experience — “a celebratory, but also a serious thing, more prayer than protest,” she says.

“The story of Palm Sunday is of Jesus processing into Jerusalem in what would become the final week of his life, and it’s a story told in all four of our gospels,” says Kirk. Some religious scholars have suggested that the Palm Sunday procession in the Bible purposefully echoed another parade: a triumphal march through the city by the Roman leaders whose army occupied the land of Israel.

In that light, for Christians such as Kirk, Jesus’ ride on a donkey has a pointed, anti-imperial meaning.

“Palm Sunday is his journey into that center of power to assert a different kind of power — one that doesn’t dominate and doesn’t exclude,” Kirk says. “We are trying to echo that original message of Palm Sunday — that it is Jesus’ legacy of confronting power that oppresses and excludes and is violent, and we’re trying to assert what we believe is the message of Christ, which is love and inclusion and belonging and peace.”

‘I cannot turn aside…’

The first year of Trump’s second administration has generated  recurring protests of increasing size, channeling public opposition to the administration’s sweeping attacks on immigrants, the reversal of policies that promote diversity and inclusion, the promotion of discrimination against LGBTQ and transgender people and cuts to health care and social supports for poor people. 

Among those resisting the Trump administration’s policies, faith groups and faith leaders have taken an increasingly high profile — across the country and in Wisconsin.

“My baptismal promises include following the works and words of Jesus and to resist evil. The ordination promises by which I became a minister echo that,” says the Rev. Kerri Parker, executive director of the Wisconsin Council of Churches, an ecumenical organization representing churches from more than 20 distinct Christian traditions.

“It means I cannot turn aside when I see evil being perpetrated, when I see vulnerable people being actively victimized by power, by what I would at this point call Capital E Empire,” adds Parker. “I have a duty to engage the tools of my faith, what platform I have, the skills I have been given, to say this is not right.”

At the height of the occupation in Minneapolis this winter by federal immigration agents, hundreds of faith leaders gathered in the city  to join the community’s resistance to the federal incursion. Among them was the Rev. Zayna Thomley, the lead pastor at the Middleton Community UCC church.

She attended a mass gathering of clergy in a large Minneapolis church and joined a protest in the lobby of the Target corporate headquarters the next day criticizing the store chain’s cooperation with Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents. 

“It felt really powerful to know that everybody who was in the room and who was on the street had the understanding to be a part of a bigger vision of what it means to be part of community, what it means to be held by God and what it means to show up for justice,” she says. “It was a deeply holy experience.

Religion and social justice

Religious groups have long taken part in social justice movements. The Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. was a Baptist minister who invoked his faith in his commitment to nonviolence as essential to the struggle for civil rights for Black Americans.

In Milwaukee, the interfaith organization MICAH — Milwaukee Inner-city Congregations Allied for Hope — has operated for nearly four decades, working to address the issues of justice in “a city afflicted with radicalized and concentrated poverty,” in the words of the organization’s website.

MICAH’s president, Rev. Richard Shaw, says he has seen more faith leaders and organizations getting involved in pushing back on federal policies in the current administration, as they are “looking at the families being broken up, looking at innocent people being arrested and put in detention without due process.”

He welcomes newcomers to the work. “I do believe that there’s power in numbers,” says Shaw, pastor of St. Matthew C.M.E. Church in Milwaukee. “If we truly follow the Jesus of scripture, to not get involved is to deny the earthly ministry of Christ.”

Christian groups are part of a broader coalition of faith groups standing up to the Trump administration. In January the Interfaith Conference of Greater Milwaukee, which represents 22 faith organizations — Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Sikh, Hindu and more — issued a statement in defense of immigrants and of peaceful protest after the fatal shooting of Renee Good in Minneapolis by a federal agent. 

“We consider the exploitation of human beings, the separation of families, and the use of violence and intimidation, to offend the human dignity not only of the oppressed but the oppressor,” the Interfaith Conference statement declared. “The rights of all people, including neighbors, immigrants and asylum-seekers, to humanitarian treatment is explicit in our national foundation, and our international treaty obligations.”

“There is a deep respect for human dignity in all of our religious traditions, and what has been happening on our streets is something that is observable to all people of faith who care about human rights and respect dignity,” says Ahmed J. Quereshi, the Interfaith Conference executive director.

At a vigil in Minneapolis for Renee Good after she was killed, Imam Mowlid Ali told Good’s neighbors, “Today is the day that we send a message to everyone in this nation. That we are united. We reject any dehumanization of any person in this city, in this state, or anywhere in our nation.”

“We Jews know from history what happens when people are kidnapped, deported, detained, and given no human dignity or rights,” Rabbi Sharon Kleinbaum said at a flash mob protest at a Minneapolis Target store. “We know what God demands of us. God demands that we be with the worker, with the vulnerable, with the immigrant … We are all created in God’s image, without exception.”

The morning after inauguration

Religious individuals, groups and leaders were among those who stood up to the policies and practices of the first Trump administration. Their role in response to Trump’s second term has been even more prominent.

“It arguably began the first day of Trump’s second term,” said Jack Jenkins, a Washington, D.C.-based reporter for Religion News Service, during an online round table discussion RNS conducted March 24.

At a prayer service the morning after Trump was inaugurated, Bishop Mariann Budde spoke directly to the president from the pulpit, urging him to “have mercy” on frightened gay, lesbian and transgender children as well as on “the vast majority” of immigrants, regardless of documentation, who are not criminals.

“That sermon that was given to him at the Washington National Cathedral by Bishop Mariann Budde, the Episcopal Bishop of Washington, made clear very quickly that there was going to be religious pushback to several parts of his agenda,” Jenkins said.

Trump was elected in 2024 with the support of more than 80% of white evangelical Protestant Christians, 60% of white Catholics and 57% of white non-evangelical Protestants, according to data compiled by the Public Religion Research Institute. And Trump has garnered favor among Christian groups that oppose abortion and LGBTQ+ rights.

But Christians cover a much broader spectrum of ideologies and perspectives on social issues.

“The loudest voice of Christianity in the United States is what we’re starting to really understand as white Christian nationalism,” says the Rev. Julia Burkey, senior pastor at Orchard Ridge United Church of Christ on the west side of Madison.

Burkey sees a religious revival emerging among Christian traditions that emphasize “the beloved community that we’re working towards, which includes all people,” regardless of gender, sexual orientation or other dividing categories.

When the immigrant advocacy group Voces de la Frontera and U.S. Rep. Mark Pocan (D-Black Earth) decided to hold a news conference in late January to announce their intentions for a peaceful but firm resistance to a possible federal immigration enforcement surge in Wisconsin, they chose the Orchard Ridge church for the event.

Burkey says engagement with social justice has been a core part of her ministry and faith since her seminary years in New York City.

“So it doesn’t feel new to me necessarily,” Burkey says — but, she adds, people may be noticing it more now.

“I just think it’s so important that we’re speaking up for human dignity and for just very basic things that are tenets of our religious faith, like loving one another,” Burkey says. “That golden rule of treating each other like we would like to be treated is a very deeply agreed upon value in the world and all faith traditions, and it’s being violated right now.”

Protests, lawsuits, immigrant support, nonviolence training

The faith-based resistance to the Trump administration has taken many forms.

During the Minneapolis gathering, nearly 100 faith leaders were arrested at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport on Jan. 23 after going there to protest the ICE detention of workers and commuters as well as the involvement of airlines in transporting people taken into ICE custody.

After Trump reversed a 30-year policy that put schools and houses of worship largely off-limits for immigration raids, the Greater Milwaukee Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America joined the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) and other church groups in a lawsuit to block the change.

A federal court ruling in February that granted the groups a preliminary injunction against the administration’s change is currently under appeal.

The Milwaukee synod joined the suit because church officials could see the impact of the administration’s aggressive stance towards immigrants on their congregations, says Bishop Paul Erickson.

“People were not coming to church because they’re afraid of ICE. People were not going to the food pantry at the church because they’re afraid of ICE,” Erickson says. “We felt a strong belief that the behavior of our federal government was interfering with the free expression of religion.”

At Christ Presbyterian Church in Madison, church members were among people in the community who years ago identified the need for an immigration legal aid service and helped raise the funds for it to operate, says the Rev. Will Massey, an associate pastor at the church. The church went on to host the service, the Community Immigration Law Center.

That relationship has gone back more than a decade. In the last year, however,  CILC has been ramping up its operations significantly in response to the Trump administration’s policies to remove immigrants. 

“Right now one of the church’s highest priorities is providing for the work of the law center — making sure that we are acting and we are managing our building in ways that allow their work to continue,” Massey says.

The Rev. Jennifer Nordstrom, senior minister at the First Unitarian Society in Milwaukee, helped lead a training in non-violent civil resistance for faith leaders in January.

“We have a long tradition as people of faith of being the moral voice in society against unjust laws and being willing to take a moral stand, a non-violent moral stand, against injustice in the world — even when it’s our government promoting that injustice, which is what we’re seeing today,” Nordstrom says.

“I see faith leaders who have always been siding with love, faith leaders who have always understood God and the Holy as a loving God that believes that all human beings are made in the image of God,” Nordstrom observes. “And in this moment, because the assault on human dignity is so pointed and aggressive, those folks are bringing that Imago Dei — the image of God, the holiness and sacredness of every human being — theology out into the community and even out into the streets.”

‘Loving our neighbor’

Other forms of support are less visible, but participants say, no less important. Some of it grows out of a longer history of assistance to refugees and immigrants in less fraught times.

“There’s been work that has happened quietly in an everyday manner that people have been proud of and comfortable participating in,” says Parker of the Wisconsin Council of Churches. “The everyday work of resettling refugees, feeding hungry people, helping folks learn the language of the place where they’re living now.”

In the current political climate, “folks who have been doing this quietly are being more direct and public about the need,” Parker adds. “And folks who may not have been engaged in it before are diving in.”

Much of that work now has also become much more discreet, to protect families and individuals who those involved fear could be targeted indiscriminately  by immigration authorities.

“I see so much organizing happening locally,” says the Rev. Kendra Grams, a Presbyterian pastor in Hudson. “It just doesn’t get as much visibility for various reasons. But it is happening and from my perspective that’s been wonderful to see.”

Erickson says friends, colleagues and family members in the Twin Cities, where he previously lived and worked for 13 years, have told him that protests and other public actions are only a fraction of the work people are undertaking to help the most vulnerable people in the community. 

“It’s the networking of providing mutual aid and food and money and support,” Erickson says. “Helping people get rides to the doctor’s office because they’re afraid to go out by themselves, and showing up in restaurants and committing to eat in the same restaurant every day and spend two hours there just in case ICE shows up in an immigrant-owned restaurant or a restaurant that employs significant numbers of migrants.”

Those are not “a centralized, coordinated, highly orchestrated effort,” Erickson says. “It’s simply baked into the fabric of how do I love my neighbor?”

That underlying tenet is found in “any religion that I’m aware of, whether it be Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Jewish,” he says.  “And so I think that’s really what we’re trying to lean into and recognize, that the actions of the federal government are getting in the way of us loving our neighbor. And we’re not going to sit back quietly and let that continue.”

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His impact is seen everywhere on South Cesar E. Chavez Drive. From the street signs and murals bearing his name to a life-sized statue in the parking lot of Nuevo Mercado El Rey — Cesar Chavez was revered by many on Milwaukee’s South Side.

That’s what made news of sexual abuse allegations so shocking. Many today see union activist and civil rights leader Chavez, who died in 1993, in a new light after a bombshell New York Times article published Wednesday — as a sexual predator. 

The story detailed allegations of sexual abuse and grooming of women and girls as young as 12. 

Reaction across Milwaukee has been swift. 

The city’s Cesar Chavez Day celebrations were canceled. 

And the Marcus Center for the Performing Arts shut down a student contest and event honoring him. 

Ald. JoCasta Zamarripa and others have begun discussions about potentially renaming Cesar E. Chavez Drive, a stretch of South 16th Street from West Greenfield to West Pierce.

What the Chavez Drive business community is saying

Olivia Villarreal, the wife and business partner of El Rey co-founder Ernesto Villarreal, said she was devastated to see the news reports about Chavez. 

“Makes me just cry hearing these developments,” she said. 

Villarreal said her father came to the U.S. as a bracero, working the cotton fields in Texas and Alabama. Her husband’s dad came to California from Mexico to pick fruit. Both came to the country in the 1950s. 

“They saw what the labor movement did and lived it,” she said. 

The movement, which Chavez became the face of, impacted millions, she said. 

She said the statue of Chavez that stands on the western edge of their parking lot in a small plaza, does not belong to El Rey, although the store has been maintaining it. It was commissioned by Journey House and paid for by donations. 

Villarreal said her understanding is that members of the Cesar E. Chavez Business Improvement District will meet and decide the future of the statue and discuss the renaming of the street.

She said she’s open to the BID’s suggestion of taking down the statue and also changing the name of the street. 

The Chavez Drive BID issued a statement calling for accountability and thoughtful action.

“Cesar E. Chavez has long been recognized as a symbol of labor rights, dignity and collective organizing for farmworkers and Latino communities,” it read. “At the same time, we recognize that history is not one-dimensional. It requires us to confront the full scope of a person’s legacy, including the parts that are in contradiction to what we have known.” 

The BID board of directors is actively examining next steps, according to the statement.

‘Get rid of everything’

Elena Rosales, who works at Agencia de Viajes Mexico, 1016 S. Cesar E. Chavez Drive, said she was shocked when she heard the news about Chavez. 

“Get rid of everything, take the statue down, change the street,” she said. 

As a woman, she said, she’s on the side of the victims. Still, she acknowledged, with Chavez long dead, we’ll never hear his side. 

“He’s not here to defend himself,” Rosales said. 

Maria Romo, a manager at Reliable Staffing Solutions, 1215 S. Cesar E. Chavez Drive, said that although she thinks the voices of the victims should be heard, she doesn’t think changing the name of the street will help much. 

“They’ve already been harmed. What will changing the name of the street do to change that?” she said. 

‘Why now?’

Alma Flores, owner of Nuevo Imagen, a beauty shop at 1219 S. Cesar E. Chavez Drive, said she doesn’t think that the street should be renamed or that Chavez’s legacy should be forgotten. 

“He did so much for the agricultural workers,” she said. “What will they do, remove his name from everywhere? Because it’s all over.” 

Flores said she questions some of the allegations against him and wonders why they took so long to become public. 

“I don’t understand. Why now when everyone celebrates him,” she said. 

Fernando Barajas, manager of Taqueria Los Comales, 1306 S. Cesar E. Chavez Drive, said he has mixed feelings about the sexual abuse allegations against Chavez. 

“He’s been dead for so long,” said Barajas, who’s worked at the restaurant for nearly 23 years. “We all have different points of view.” 

Barajas, a former farmworker in California in the ’80s and ’90s, said that Chavez did a lot of good for people. Still, he said, he understands the severity of what he’s being accused of and understands if people want to take action as a result. 

“If the people want the name of the street to change, that’s fine,” Barajas said. 

What residents are saying

Juan Salazar, a former farmworker, also has mixed feelings about Chavez.

“That’s the first thing people go to nowadays, the worst parts, not the good parts,” said Salazar while walking along Cesar E. Chavez Drive on Thursday morning. 

He admits the news about Chavez left him at a loss for words but wants more investigation into the allegations before changes are made.

Nyia Luna is a local artist who painted a mural of Dolores Huerta on Cesar E. Chavez Drive with her mentor Girl Mobb. 

Huerta co-founded the National Farm Workers Association with Chavez and went public Wednesday as one of his victims. 

Luna said she painted a mural of Huerta because she knew of Huerta’s huge role in the farm workers movement. 

“Not many of my counterparts in high school did,” she said. 

She called the news about Chavez a tragedy, and said she’s glad that Huerta and the others were able to share their stories. 

“Brings light to what goes on behind closed doors to a lot of women,” Luna said. 

Many other residents who were asked about Chavez on Thursday said they had seen the headlines on social media about him but were not fully aware of the allegations or didn’t want to share their stories publicly.  

What Milwaukee leaders are saying

County Supervisor Juan Miguel Martinez, who represents the South Side, wrote on Facebook that he had no problem saying goodbye to Chavez’s legacy and condemning him for his actions. 

“Too often, men of status abuse their power and use it for heinous acts towards women, and especially toward defenseless children,” he wrote. 

He wants Cesar E. Chavez Drive to be renamed in honor of Huerta. 

Zamarripa, who represents a section of the South Side, said she’s devastated about the news on Chavez.

“We know community leaders who marched with him, and the devastation is so real,” she said. 

She issued a statement in solidarity with his alleged victims on Wednesday. 

“These women carried enormous pain for decades because they feared that speaking the truth would cost the movement everything they had sacrificed to build. That is an impossible burden, and they should never have had to carry it,” she wrote. 

Zamarripa said the legacy of the farmworker movement belongs to the people, while saying she will be part of a broader conversation about renaming the street that bears his name. 

“I am committed to being part of that discussion in the coming weeks,” she said. “To any survivor who is carrying something heavy today: You are believed, and you are not alone.” 

Zamarripa said she and other stakeholders, including representatives of the Cesar E. Chavez BID, will meet soon to discuss next steps. 

“We want to get input from a wide cross-section of people,” she said. “But I am heartbroken.”

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Jonathan Aguilar is a visual journalist at Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service who is supported through a partnership between CatchLight Local and Report for America.

A legacy reconsidered: Cesar Chavez allegations ripple across Milwaukee’s South Side is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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The Versiti Blood Center of Wisconsin is experiencing a major decline in organ donors while waitlists for patients in need of transplants grow. 

There are 1,450 Wisconsin patients awaiting an organ transplant, but there’s been a 350% increase in the number of people removing themselves from the Wisconsin donor registry, according to Colleen McCarthy, vice president of organ and tissue donation at Versiti.

“Organ donation is built on public trust, and we are losing it,” McCarthy said. “There is much national news with misinformation that creates fear in people.” 

McCarthy wants people to understand that an organ donation specialist’s role includes supporting families, medically managing donated organs, allocating them based on priority and offering public education. 

Especially on misconceptions. 

Some people worry that their life won’t be saved if they become an organ donor or that they’re too old to donate one. 

“We make every effort to save a life,” McCarthy said. “The oldest organ donor in the United States is 96 years old, so we evaluate all ages regardless of medical history.” 

McCarthy emphasizes that if you have multiple health conditions like diabetes, hepatitis C or HIV, there are other organs in the body that can be safe for a transplant. 

“There’s very few rule-outs in organ donation,” she said. “We just have to make sure that those organs are matched with the right recipient.”

Navigating life without a kidney

Versiti Blood Center of Wisconsin is in need of kidneys, livers, hearts, lungs and other organs to save lives.

“The kidney is the organ in most need,” McCarthy said. 

Among the patients waiting for a kidney transplant is Kelly Norlander, who has known since she was a teenager that she’d be in need of a kidney one day.   

“It’s never easy when you know it’s coming, but I was able to wrap my head around it and process it all,” she said. 

Norlander has a genetic condition called polycystic kidney disease, which causes continuous growth of cysts in the kidney.

She was put on the transplant list two years ago and has been receiving dialysis treatments three times a week for four hours each day for the past year and a half. 

Dialysis is a process that filters toxins from the body when kidneys stop working. 

Although Norlander works full time remotely, she’s stuck bringing her computer to dialysis with her most days. 

“Dialysis feels like a part-time job within itself,” Norlander said. “The longer dialysis is, the harder the transplant will be on your body.”

Long wait times for a transplant

According to Froedtert & Medical College of Wisconsin, the wait time for a kidney could be up to five years. 

“I hope people think about Kelly and the others who are waiting on a transplant,” McCarthy said. “We understand that donating is a personal choice, but I think people need to spend some time thinking about getting accurate information on organ donation.”

Norlander’s father passed away seven years ago from the same condition because he didn’t qualify for a transplant. 

Norlander also wants people to consider the life-saving impact they can have by becoming an organ donor. 

“You’re not just saving one life, you’re saving several,” she said. 

Keeping a consistent blood supply

The harsh winter, including the most recent blizzard, is causing residents to donate less blood this year, which has led to a blood supply shortage for Versiti. 

According to Versiti, 11 of its donor centers and six mobile drives were canceled on Monday. Versiti was hoping to schedule 450 appointments to make up for the ones that were canceled. 

Versiti is also trying to prepare for the warmer seasons, as sometimes the supply can drop during good weather, too.

“It doesn’t take much to disrupt the supply,” said Lauren Patzman, recovery services supervisor at Versiti. “When people are traveling and getting ready to go somewhere for spring break or the holidays, those are the times we see declines in donations.”

Throughout the year, Versiti relies heavily on high school students, as many of their schools host blood drives. But when school is out, finding volunteers becomes harder. 

Patzman said the organization attends festivals and local events during the summer to spread awareness about blood, organ and eye donation. However, sometimes it’s hard to utilize its mobile bus because people aren’t always prepared to give blood. 

“It’s hot, people are walking around all day and may not be hydrated or had a good breakfast beforehand,” Patzman said. 

The organization is urging more residents to donate blood to prevent another shortage. 

It’s in need of all donated blood types, especially donors with a rare blood type called Ro.

According to Versiti Research Blood Institute, Ro blood is found only within 4% of donors and is often given to sickle cell patients. Many sickle cell patients in Milwaukee require blood transfusions every three to four weeks and need over 60 red blood cell units each year. 

Other individuals, including burn victims, cancer patients, a mother giving birth and more can receive donated blood. 

Patzman said the organization tries to keep three to five days of blood supply available to share with hospitals.

“If and when a blood shortage happens, hospitals do have to make difficult decisions that may include delaying surgeries and adjusting treatments,” she said. 

Taking next steps with a quick visit

Patzman reminds individuals there’s always room to put donating blood on your to-do list.  

“People don’t realize how easy it is to just walk in and out within an hour, and it’s not as scary as people think it is,” Patzman said. “Blood is perishable and it has a shelf life.”

If you are interested in donating blood, click here to enter your ZIP code to find nearby donor centers or mobile drives.

To become an organ, tissue and eye donor, click here for more details.

More people in Wisconsin are removing themselves from the organ donor registry; fewer are donating blood is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

In Milwaukee, the family of a woman detained by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) joined local activists in pleading for her release. Elvira Benitez, who was born in Mexico, has never been in trouble with the law since she came to the United States 36 years ago. But Benitez was taken into custody earlier this month after a routine check-in, and transported out of state to a detention facility in Kentucky. 

“I’m asking all of you to put aside your biases and put aside preconceived notions, and simply look at the facts of Elvira’s case,” said attorney Marc Christopher during a press conference Thursday. “And I think that if you look at it not through a political lens, not through a preconceived lens but through a lens of justice, integrity, and fairness…These are values our country has traditionally upheld, I think you’ll find her to be an extremely sympathetic case.”

Christopher, hoping to reach people both in and outside of the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), recounted the story of what led Benitez to America. “I want you to imagine a 15-year-old girl whose mother has died. She’s living in poverty in Mexico, and she’s facing the most extreme and terrible abuse at the hands of her own family. She then takes her 9-year-old sister and together they flee, crossing a desert with no guarantee of safety, no certainty, and nowhere to turn. It’s not a calculated decision that that 15-year-old child made. It was a decision of survival. That girl is Elvira, 36 years ago.”

When she arrived in the United States, said Christopher, “she did what we say we all value.” Benitez worked, paid her taxes, learned English, and raised four children. She became active in her church, started a small cleaning business, and never crossed paths with the law for over three decades. “Not a jaywalking ticket, not even for anything minor,” said Christopher. 

Benitez’s world turned upside down last July. During a family trip to Niagara Falls, GPS led the family on a wrong turn towards Canada. After they turned around, both Benitez and her husband were detained at the border. Husband and wife were separated, one sent to northern Michigan and the other to Ohio. “The extended family was then required to travel to Michigan to pick up the two youngest children,” said Christopher. “For the next six months they had to endure something that you hope no family would have to endure — absolute separation from each other.”

Benitez was incarcerated with  people who had committed  serious criminal offenses. When her case was finally reviewed by an immigration judge, the judge found that Benitez was a good candidate for permanent residency. Benitez was able to go home in December, a week before Christmas, to spend time with her family. Then, on March 10, when Benitez went for a routine check-in at the ICE office. As she walked out, she was detained. The federal government had decided to appeal Benitez’s release, on the very last day they were able to do so. 

Stressing that the law does not require that she  be detained, Christopher asked, “What  purpose does this really serve? What does it say about us as a county, and us as a society?” Benitez was shackled and shipped to Chicago, then transported to Kentucky. Christopher added that people who question why Benitez didn’t get her citizenship after 36 years do not understand the immigration system. He said that it is not fair or practical to expect a traumatized, desperate 15-year-old girl to understand immigration laws, and that Benitez integrated into American society and followed all the rules. 

Benitez’s husband and children sat beside Christopher during the press conference. “My wife is not a criminal but she is being treated that way,” her husband said, calling her detention physical and emotional abuse. Her oldest daughter, Kristal, said her mother’s case is not about politics.  “it’s about being a human.” Benitez’s two youngest children, ages 11 and 12, said they miss their mother, and the 12-year-old broke down and cried.  

A family friend of Benitez spoke about Benitez’s participation in church and community events, and said that she’s “ashamed of what’s going on in our country right now.” Kristal said that Benitez is having a hard time, having just endured an extended time in immigration detention last year. “She’s literally in despair,” said Kristal. “She’s having a hard time remaining strong this time around. She was getting her freedom again, and then taken again…And she’s scared. She is with the general population…So she’s terrified, scared that something might happen to her and she just wants to be home and she doesn’t see any hope.” 

The federal government’s appeal of Benitez’s case could take up to 18 months, meaning she’ll likely be detained for more than a year. Christine Neumann-Ortiz, executive director of Voces de la Frontera, said that using ICE detention to crush people’s hopes is an intentional strategy of the Trump administration. Neumann-Ortiz praised the Benitez family’s bravery, saying  people are often fearful of speaking out about their experiences with ICE. 

Voces de la Frontera has been collecting and verifying  reports of ICE arrests in Milwaukee. 

In early May, the group is planning a  march to Milwaukee’s federal building, calling for an end to Trump’s deportation campaign and to call for reform to the immigration system.  

In an emailed statement, a DHS spokesperson described Benitez in bold black text as “an illegal alien from Mexico” and said “she will receive full due process.” The spokesperson stated, “being in detention is a choice. We encourage all illegal aliens to take control of their departure with the [Customs and Border Protection] Home app. The United States is offering illegal aliens $2,600 and a free flight to self-deport now. We encourage every person here illegally to take advantage of this offer and reserve the chance to come back to the U.S. the right legal way to live the American dream. If not, you will be arrested and deported without a chance to return.”

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Milwaukee reacted to a the New York Times investigation published Wednesday that details sexual misconduct allegations against  influential civil rights and labor activist Cesar Chavez. Ald. JoCasta Zamarripa, who represents parts of Milwaukee’s predominantly Latino south side, announced that an annual celebration of Chavez’s life will be canceled this year. 

Milwaukee is also considering renaming a street that honors Chavez, who is accused of assaulting girls as young as 13. Images of Chavez appear on  murals and statues around  Milwaukee. All of these sites are being re-evaluated as the community processes the impact the allegations have on the labor and Latino civil rights movements Chavez led.

In a statement, Zamarippa said that Chavez’s contributions “are a matter of historical record”  but so are the “devastating” accounts of his accusers, including Dolores Huerta, Ana Murguia and Debra Rojas.  Zamarippa said that “both things are true, and our community deserves leaders who will say so clearly rather than ask survivors to wait until we process our own grief.” 

The Times investigation focused on Ana Murguia who, alongside Debra Rojas, say that Chavez — then in his 40s — abused them for years when they were  young girls. Murguia decided to come forward after she  heard that a street near where she lives in California was being renamed after Chavez, who died in 1993 at the age of 66. 

Neither Murguia nor Rojas had publicly shared their stories before. The Times investigation found “extensive evidence to support their accusations and those raised by several other women” against Chavez. Both women were the daughters of longtime organizers who marched and rallied alongside Chavez. According to the Times, Chavez had known Murguia since she was 8 years old, and the repeated abuse she endured in his office traumatized her so much that she  attempted to take her life multiple times at the age of 15. 

The pattern of abuse extended beyond Murguia and Rojas. Dolores Huerta, an icon of the farmworkers movement, said that Chavez also sexually assaulted her. The Times’ findings are based on interviews with over 60 people, including Chavez’s top aides, relatives and former members of the United Farm Workers movement. The Times also reviewed hundreds of pages of union records, confidential emails, photographs and hours of audio recordings from the movement’s board meetings. 

Many of the women who say they were abused by Chavez waited decades to tell their stories due to the shame they felt and fear of going against a man who’d become a cultural icon. 

Zamarripa said in her statement,  “the farmworker movement was never one man. It was built by thousands of workers, organizers, and families who gave their lives to the fight for dignity and justice.” 

Darryl Morin, president of Forward Latino, like Zamarripa, said, “this movement has never been about any one individual; it has always been about the people. It is grounded in the dignity of all, for farmworkers in the fields to students in our schools, and in the ongoing pursuit of justice. Upholding these values requires recognizing that no one is above accountability, whether they lead a movement, major corporation, or a government.”

Mayor Cavalier Johnson called the accusations “extremely troubling” and added that “the victims, those who have come forward and those who are unnamed, deserve our compassion,” Milwaukee Journal Sentinel reported. 

Milwaukee County Supv. Juan Miguel Martinez, a labor organizer, said that South Cesar E. Chavez Drive will be renamed “Dolores Huerta Way.” Martinez said in a statement that “too often, men of status abuse their power and use it for heinous acts towards women, and especially toward defenseless children…A union is built by people, not one person.”

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Communities are recovering after a major weekend blizzard, dropping record-breaking amounts of snow in some parts of Wisconsin. From the Northwoods to Milwaukee, snowfall shut down roads, caused power outages and challenged plow trucks and public services.

The National Weather Service, calling the snowstorm “historic,” said that in central Wisconsin, snow fell at a rate of 4 inches per hour. “Near-blizzard conditions developed Sunday afternoon, fueled by northeast winds gusting between 35 and 50 mph,” the weather service stated in an update. Windspeeds reached 59 miles per hour  at the Green Bay Airport, and 60 miles per hour in De Pere. “This combination of heavy falling snow and high winds created whiteout conditions and massive drifting,” the National Weather Service stated.

Historic amounts of snow reached approximately 30 inches in communities from Wausau to Marinette and Door County. In Green Bay, where 26.1 inches of snow fell as of Monday, the storm was the area’s largest in 136 years. By Sunday Green Bay had seen 17.1 inches accumulate, making it the city’s third-snowiest day and its heaviest day of snowfall since 1889. Over 11,000 people were reported to have lost power as well.

A “No Travel Advised” notice was posted on the Department of Transportation’s webpage as the storm loomed. “The heavy snow load and high winds caused widespread power outages, most notably in Door and Marinette Counties, and building collapses were reported in Sturgeon Bay and Kewaunee County,” the National Weather Services noted. “Many schools and businesses remained closed through Monday.” The snow was so overwhelming that snow plow operations halted in Marinette County, forcing the sheriff’s office to warn that emergency responses might also slow. That was an acute concern for people stranded in cars along the roadways.

Milwaukee Journal Sentinel reported that Sturgeon Bay in Dane County saw 33 inches of snow blanketing roads and neighborhoods over three days. The city of Madison recorded 5.6 inches on Monday. The state capital’s previous record was set in 2006 when 3.5 inches of snow fell. In western Wisconsin, the town of Montana received 26.5 inches of snow, more than any other area in the region. The city of Mondovi also may have broken a record with 16.5 inches the city’s unofficial record was 16 inches, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. 

Over the three-day snowfall event, Madison was covered in nearly eight inches. Some residents reported they were unable to open their front doors. 

Fallen trees and other damage was also reported as far south as Racine.

Waukesha County also struggled with the storm, after strong winds uprooted trees as early as Friday. The winds heralded an all-day rain storm which then turned into a blizzard. The shifting weather patterns meant that the county had to adapt rapidly. About seven inches of snow fell in Waukesha from Sunday to Monday. Crews with the Waukesha County Department of Public Works pulled 16-hour shifts. 

“In severe weather government services matter most,” Waukesha County Executive Paul Farrow said in a statement. “Waukesha County’s teams were out early, stayed out late, and worked around the clock so residents could reach essential services safely. Thank you to our crews and to the public for slowing down and giving plows the space they needed to do their jobs.” 

From 2 a.m. to 9 p.m. Monday, Waukesha County’s 911 communications center received 47 calls for disabled vehicles, 25 for vehicles in ditches, nine reports of property damage, and three for traffic hazards. In many areas people struggled to dig their cars out, with Wausau residents reporting having literally not seen their cars for days until they were uncovered from the snow. Although temperatures were below freezing on Tuesday, the weather is expected to warm as the week continues. By the weekend, temperatures are expected to reach 70 degrees before tapering off again.

Researchers have long warned that extreme weather events would become more common due to climate change. Some of the communities recovering from the blizzard have yet to fully recover from record-breaking floods that occurred in August. In January 2025, extreme arctic cold enveloped the region, challenging communities with large numbers of people living unhoused on the street. This most recent snowstorm came as other parts of the United States dealt with rashes of tornadoes, heatwaves, and flooding. 

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Four Milwaukee aldermen are expressing concern about “the lack of adequate guardrails, auditing, supervision, and transparency” surrounding the use of Flock Safety license plate reader cameras. In a three-page letter sent Wednesday to the city’s Fire and Police Commission (FPC), Common Council President José Pérez and Alders Marina Dimitrijevic, Alex Brower and Sharlen Moore said that recent cases like one involving a Milwaukee police officer who used Flock to stalk a romantic partner “are alarming and underscore the systemic oversight gap rather than an isolated failure.” 

The letter is the latest ripple in a wave of community pushback against the use of Flock Safety cameras, which are equipped with license plate reading technology and can be accessed by law enforcement agencies across the country using search terms and filters. Critics also express concern that the cameras can be used for backdoor surveillance by the federal government, particularly as the Trump administration pursues an aggressive immigration crackdown. 

Audit data reviewed by Wisconsin Examiner shows that officers often use vague terms like “investigation,” “suspicious,” “cooch,” or just “.” to search the network. Some Wisconsin communities have canceled their contracts with the multi-billion dollar Flock Safety company due to concerns about its technology.

 

 

Just a day before the Milwaukee council members sent their letter to the FPC, TMJ4 reported that the Milwaukee Police Department cut off access to its license plate reader database. The police department said officers have been blocked from using the system while the department re-evaluates who needs access to the technology. Currently, TMJ4 reported, only officers in “sensitive portions” of MPD’s Criminal Investigations Bureau can access Flock for emergency cases. The department, headed by Chief Jeffrey Norman, has also banned facial recognition technology after months of community pushback.

In their letter, the four Milwaukee alders warned that a system like Flock — capable of “tracking movement patterns, identifying vehicles, and storing sensitive location data” — can be “weaponized against residents, including survivors of domestic violence, journalists, advocates, and everyday community members.” 

The alders were especially alarmed about a recent case involving Josue Ayala, a Milwaukee police officer facing one misdemeanor count of misconduct in public office for allegedly using Flock to track two people, one of whom was Ayala’s a romantic partner, 179 times. When he used Flock, Ayala entered the search term “investigation,” the most common search used by Wisconsin law enforcement agencies during the first half of 2025, according to the Examiner’s analysis of audit data.

In their letter, Milwaukee council members ask the FPC what specific training officers must receive to access Flock; how use is supervised real time, who’s responsible for reviewing searches, how frequently audits are conducted, and what “independent body oversees compliance and investigates misuse?” The alders are demanding that the city support reforms including: 

• Independent auditing of Flock cameras and other license plate reading technology;
• Limiting the purpose for using these technologies to “documented casework,” 
• Establishing a system of real-time flagging and increasing approval to use the system by supervisors,
• What the letter calls “a clear firewall for immigration enforcement,” preventing the police department’s Flock network from being used by federal agencies in ways that go against the department’s own policies restricting cooperation with immigration enforcement, 
• Transparent reporting including query volume trends, high-level categories of uses, who the data is shared with, and discipline/misuse outcomes, 
• Oversight hearings built into normal governance routines, such as the council’s Public Safety and Health Committee, which the letter notes “is a natural forum for recurring surveillance oversight hearings and for receiving transparency reports,” 
• Treating surveillance technology contracts as public interest infrastructure agreements “requiring clarity on retention and disclosure, clear rules on secondary use, and enforceable audit access for the city and designated independent reviewers,”
• And reforms to local legislation such as adopting a Community Control Over Police Surveillance (CCOPS) policy, which local activists and community members have been calling for in recent years. 

Just a day after the alders issued their letter, the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) of Wisconsin also sent its own communication to the Public Safety and Health Committee regarding Flock and other police surveillance technology. 

“It is critical that our community has a say in if and how invasive surveillance technologies are used, how they are deployed against residents, if and how their data is stored and shared with third parties, and whether spending our limited tax dollars on surveillance technologies is the best way to promote public safety,” the ACLU letter stated.

Abuse of surveillance tech cases across Wisconsin

The ACLU’s letter also noted “a disturbing trend in Wisconsin and across the country regarding law enforcement abuse of Flock [Automatic License Plate Reader] technology to stalk and harass people, in most cases women.” 

If convicted, Ayala could face up to nine months in prison and up to $10,000 in fines. However, a criminal complaint issued for Ayala mentions that negotiations have been underway for a settlement that would include his resignation. 

Departments are also inconsistent in how they respond to the use of vague or overly common search terms. After the Examiner approached the Waukesha Police Department about why hundreds of Flock searches had been labeled with only “.” in the field indicating the reason for the search, a spokesperson said that a single officer was responsible for the searches and had been counseled and retrained. By contrast the West Allis Police Department — the state’s most frequent user of the “.” Flock search term during the first half of 2025 — only asserted that its officers are properly trained, and that it investigates misuse cases “when warranted.” 

In addition to Ayala, another officer accused of misusing surveillance technology is Jay Johnson, the chief of the Greenfield Police Department. Johnson is facing felony misconduct in public office charges for installing a department-owned pole camera on his property during a messy divorce. Johnson is also accused of destroying data by deleting text messages after a meeting where he learned about the accusations and was offered a chance to retire. 

In Menasha, Wisconsin, Cristian Morales is facing felony misconduct in public office charges for allegedly using Flock to track someone while he was off duty. If convicted, the Menasha Police Department officer could be imprisoned for up to three and a half years and be fined up to $10,000. As with Ayala, Morales’ alleged misuse of Flock was discovered only after a complaint was made to another police department, and not through oversight by Menasha, Auto Wire reported. 

A new case of Flock abuse in Kenosha

In Kenosha County, a sheriff’s deputy was reportedly offered a severance package to resign, and has yet to face charges for inappropriate use of surveillance technology. 

Internal investigation documents obtained by the Examiner through an open records request show that, in late September, Frank McGrath, at that time a Kenosha County Sheriff Department deputy, logged into an app on his phone to access his agency’s Flock network. McGrath wanted to search for a specific vehicle, entering “suspicious” as the reason for using the AI-powered cameras. But McGrath was off duty, and his searches — lacking any case numbers — weren’t intended to find a murder suspect, stolen car, or kidnapped child. Instead, McGrath was apparently stalking another Kenosha County deputy whom he was dating. 

McGrath’s 16 Flock searches were first noticed by Kenosha County Sheriff Capt. Erik Klinkhammer, during an audit in October 2025. After checking the license plate which McGrath repeatedly searched in the TIME system — a consolidated information database used by law enforcement — Klinkhammer confirmed that the targeted vehicle belonged to a Kenosha County Sheriff’s deputy, whose name is redacted in the documents obtained by the Examiner through records requests. 

“There was no indication that [REDACTED] or her vehicle were connected to any investigation, and informal internal speculation suggested a possible romantic relationship between McGrath and [REDACTED],” the internal investigation report states. “These factors raised concerns regarding McGrath’s motive for conducting off-duty searches of her vehicle.” 

None of McGrath’s other Flock searches were like those that raised Klinkhammer’s suspicions. McGrath was placed on administrative leave and ordered to report to the sheriff’s office for questioning. The vice president of the Kenosha Sheriff Offices union was also notified of the situation.

McGrath initially denied having misused Flock stating that, “he performed the searches through the FLOCK app on his phone and dismissed the relevance of questions about a relationship with [REDACTED],” the investigation report states. McGrath surrendered his badge and firearm before leaving the room. “Within moments,” the reports continued, McGrath returned with the union vice president saying he didn’t want to leave the situation unresolved, and admitting that he was having romantic relationship problems with the deputy whose license he searched in Flock. Klinkhammer then called the deputy in question, who confirmed that she already knew about McGrath monitoring her vehicle through Flock. “[REDACTED] said she was not afraid of McGrath and is not in fear of her safety,” the investigation report states. 

In a separate interview, the deputy McGrath was monitoring also appeared with a union representative. She said that McGrath had told her about the Flock searches a week or two before Klinkhammer contacted her. “[REDACTED] stated she did believe his actions were in violation of policy and found it ‘weird,’ but she did not report the information to a supervisor,” the investigation report states. She elaborated on a close friendship she had with another male coworker who, after learning about her relationship with McGrath, had been giving her the “cold shoulder.” 

“She was extremely upset by this change, and while speaking with McGrath on the day of the FLOCK searches, she became emotional and cried,” the investigation report states. “She explained that she and this coworker communicated daily, both on and off duty, and the sudden distance was upsetting. She stated that McGrath told her her reaction was not normal and questioned whether she had romantic feelings for the coworker. [REDACTED] told him she did not, explaining she was simply hurt by the loss of the friendship.”

Later, McGrath questioned her about who had access to her vehicle. “Because she lives with her parents, she explained that either her mother or father can take her car at any time,” the investigation report states. “She noted it was unusual that McGrath repeatedly asked this question.” The two eventually had “a significant argument related to her having male friends,” which led to her distancing herself from her male friends, after which things with McGrath improved, according to the report. 

Surveillance motivated by jealousy

“[REDACTED] denied any physical altercations, domestic violence, or concerning behavior of that nature during the relationship,” the investigation report states. “She stated McGrath did not like her having male friends, wanted to go through her phone at times, and had expressed jealousy issues, but she denied any physical incidents. She also denied believing she was being stalked, stating that she and McGrath shared their iPhone locations with each other.”

The two talked about the situation again after McGrath was placed on leave, devolving into another argument. “[REDACTED] stated McGrath never asked her to lie for him and instructed her to tell the truth,” the investigation report states. “She confirmed they are still currently in a relationship, though McGrath has made only limited comments about discussing the situation with his union representative.” The investigation report notes that, “when asked why she did not initially report McGrath’s FLOCK use after he told her, [REDACTED] said she did not know what to do and felt the situation was strange.”

When he spoke with investigators, McGrath said he’d undergone Flock training and understood police databases can only be used for “legitimate investigative purposes,” and agreed that his own use was “unauthorized.” However, McGrath told investigators that his understanding of Flock and license plate reader policies “was vague” and he said that “although he signs off on policy updates, he often does not read them.”

McGrath said that his own insecurity and the way the female deputy reacted to her friend cutting her off contributed to his misuse of Flock. “He explained that he first ran a partial plate using the digits he knew, then used an Antioch, Illinois, camera hit from a prior visit to his residence to identify her full plate number,” the investigation reads. “He then continued searching her movements through the system. His stated goal was to determine whether [REDACTED] was at home or possibly visiting the male coworker he was suspicious of.” 

McGrath said he “knew [he] probably shouldn’t have” used Flock for personal reasons “but believed FLOCK was not as tightly regulated as TIME.” He also said that he didn’t use other police databases such as LEADS or New Work for personal reasons “and could not explain why he treated FLOCK differently.” McGrath also admitted to initially lying to Capt. Klinkhammer “claiming he was embarrassed and ashamed,” the investigation report notes. 

Besides Flock, McGrath also used a squad car tracking system called Polaris to monitor his partner. “He admitted these searches were motivated by jealousy, stating he checked to see where she was, who she might be sitting near, or which deputies she was working alongside,” the report states. “He agreed this behavior was inappropriate and understood how it could be viewed as stalking-type conduct.” McGrath entered the reason for the searches as “suspicious” as “likely an attempt to legitimize the searches, and stated that although he knew in the back of his mind that what he was doing was wrong, he was not in the right frame of mind at the time.”

‘Knowingly and repeatedly’ misusing Flock

The internal investigation found that McGrath “knowingly and repeatedly” misused Flock and Polaris, and was not truthful when confronted by a supervisor about his actions. “His actions constitute an abuse of his authority and a serious breach of trust regarding confidential law enforcement information,” the investigation report states. “His pattern of personal surveillance using restricted law enforcement systems, coupled with his initial dishonesty, represents serious misconduct. The misuse was repeated, knowing, and extended over multiple months. It occurred off duty, and it was directed at a fellow member of this agency in the context of a romantic relationship.” 

Kenosha County Sheriff Lt. Chase Forster concluded in the investigation that “this level of misconduct significantly undermines the integrity and credibility expected of a Kenosha County Sheriff’s Deputy, and formal discipline is warranted.” Yet that discipline never came. 

According to a John Doe petition filed by Kevin Mathewson, a controversial local figure who runs the Kenosha County Eye, McGrath resigned and avoided having his case referred to the district attorney’s office. Mathewson also wrote on Kenosha County Eye that McGrath received a severance agreement when he resigned. Mathewson points out in his John Doe petition that other Wisconsin officers — including in Milwaukee, Menasha and Greenfield — have faced misconduct in public office charges for abusing Flock. By filing a John Doe petition, Mathewson is asking a judge to consider whether probable cause exists to charge McGrath. If a judge decides that probable cause exists, he or she may appoint special prosecutors to explore options to convict.

The Examiner reached out to the Kenosha County Sheriff’s Office for comment. Acting as a spokesperson, Forster declined to comment, saying that the criminal investigation is being carried out by the neighboring Racine County Sheriff’s Office. While a spokesperson from Racine County confirmed that the department is  “working on it,” referring to the investigation against McGrath, they declined to comment further, stating that Kenosha is in charge of releasing information and statements. The Racine County Sheriff spokesperson assured the Examiner that they weren’t “trying to play ‘hide the ball.’”

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Each day she goes to school, Hmong American Peace Academy senior Eva Vang feels so welcomed among her teachers and peers that she’s received awards for perfect attendance.

“Maybe it’s just because we’re at a predominately Hmong school, but we kind of connect in a lot of ways,” Vang said. “It’s easy to kind of relate to them and relate to the same experiences that we have.”

Aside from a brief stint at a different school in the third grade, Vang has spent each year since kindergarten at Hmong American Peace Academy, or HAPA, in Milwaukee. The Northwest Side charter school serves students from kindergarten to 12th grade with a curriculum rooted in Hmong cultural values and heritage.  

In 2025, the Elementary School and Secondary Education Act Network recognized HAPA as a distinguished school for exceptional student performance and academic growth. It was one of only two Wisconsin schools to receive the national honor last year. 

The school achieved the recognition largely through its efforts to address chronic absenteeism, retain teachers and expand their college and postsecondary career programs, HAPA Chief Academic Officer Brendan Kearney said.

Here’s how it did it.

‘Amazing sense of purpose’

Middle school English language arts teacher Austeen Yang is in her fourth school year at HAPA, and she said the school’s respect for teachers keeps her coming back. 

“HAPA is amazing at asking for our advice and then making decisions based off of that advice,” Yang said. 

Each year, the school solicits teacher feedback through annual surveys, then reports the findings and plans to respond to suggestions and concerns. 

“I think it’s a really big part of the culture, and we’ve seen a lot of things change because of those surveys,” Yang said. 

HAPA recently reported a 96% staff retention rate.

Sara Shaw, deputy research director at Wisconsin Policy Forum, said many schools across the state have struggled with teacher retention since the pandemic. Researchers observed a spike in teacher turnover going into the 2022-23 school year, and while numbers have decreased slightly, they’re still above pre-pandemic levels. 

Shaw attributes the retention issues to both a change in labor market conditions, where inflation rose and it became more favorable for workers to negotiate employment elsewhere, and problems specific to education.

Shaw said the strains from COVID-19 caught up to a lot of teachers, who originally worked to support students during the pandemic but left when things became too difficult. 

HAPA administration recognized that attracting and keeping good, quality teachers would be critical to accomplishing the school’s academic goals, Kearney said.

The school made several adjustments to meet the needs of new educators and returning teachers, including reducing minutes in the workday and the number of workdays in the calendar year. The school also made changes in compensation, class sizes and professional development opportunities, Kearney said. 

“We won’t get done what we need to if we can’t keep good teachers in the building getting better year after year and serving our scholars,” Kearney said. “We don’t want our scholars to show up and see a bunch of new people.” 

Something else that Yang appreciates about HAPA is the school’s focus on providing a culturally based education. 

Yang, being of Hmong heritage, said she feels a “great, huge amazing sense of purpose” and connects with the school’s commitment to preserving and teaching Hmong cultural values.

Supportive teachers and postsecondary success

HAPA senior Angelina Yang, who’s attended the school since kindergarten, said she felt motivated to come to school this year because of HAPA’s Money Coach program, where senior students learn financial literacy skills. 

“I don’t really have a strong knowledge or education on financial literacy,” Yang said. “Going to that program really helped me understand why it’s important to be present in that program because it betters me.”

Vang appreciates the school’s college and career office, which focuses on postsecondary success. She said the office helped her figure out what she wants to do after school and apply for colleges and scholarship opportunities. 

“It is a time right now where it’s very overwhelming, but because we have such a great college and career team, they do support us a lot,” Vang said. “In a way, I think they did also kind of grow my expectations for college.”

Vang said she knew she wanted to go to college since her freshman year. 

She has choices – she’s been accepted at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, Loyola University and DePaul University. She’s looking to study medicine and become an emergency physician. 

The office has also supported Yang, who plans to attend the University of Wisconsin-Madison. 

“A lot of the students here are first generation,” Yang said. “Having that support really builds our self-esteem and making sure that we know what we want to do in the future and how we can go to college or enter the workforce.”

After seeing how transportation barriers to hospitals in Laos impacted her uncle during her freshman year, she decided to study health promotion and equity. 

“That really made me recognize the health disparities in my community and in my family,” she said. “Going into health administration … would help me at least try to help remedy those uncertainties.”

Kearney said HAPA has invested in greater college support in the past five years. 

Traditionally, counselors at the school helped students in a more one-size-fits-all fashion. Currently, the school has four college advisers, a coordinator and a director of college and careers who work to personalize the experience for students and connect their work now with their post-graduation goals. 

“The goal is that every student here leaves with a plan,” Kearney said. “For very many of them, it’s college, but we also support students who want to pursue career or technical education.”

Chronic absenteeism

Neither Yang nor Vang has struggled much with attendance at HAPA. Still, the school has not been immune to chronic absenteeism, especially after the pandemic. 

HAPA tackles absenteeism through a multi-tiered system of supports, a collaborative group of staff members who help identify the causes of absenteeism and support the scholars and their families, Kearney said. 

“A big part of making that work has been investing in student services staff,” Kearney said. “Post-pandemic, we’ve added several staff members who can help to serve different parts of the scholar.”

The team helps design an intervention or support plan based on what’s causing the student to miss school. Sometimes that includes connecting students with social workers, counselors or helping those dealing with homelessness, Kearney said.

If a student hasn’t been to school in a while and can’t be reached on the phone, HAPA sends impact coaches to check on students at their homes.

Austeen Yang said the system works well for teachers because they talk with other educators about the student of concern and collaborate to address issues. When teachers have exhausted all their options for helping the student, the support team comes in to support students. 

Kearney said the system came from teacher feedback. 

“It’s a part of why we’ve invested in student services staff,” Kearney said. “When teachers are expected to do all things for all students, it becomes an unsustainable job.”

Angelina Yang said the supportive teachers keep her coming back and her attendance strong. 

“HAPA does a really great job at hiring teachers who actually really care about their students and their well-being,” Yang said. “Having that support makes me feel more inclined to go just because I have a space that I know that I am welcome in.”

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Alex Klaus is the education solutions reporter for Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service and a corps member of Report for America, a national service program that places journalists in local newsrooms to report on under-covered issues and communities. Report for America plays no role in editorial decisions in the NNS newsroom.

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Jonathan Aguilar is a visual journalist at Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service who is supported through a partnership between CatchLight Local and Report for America.

Hmong American Peace Academy received national recognition for exceptional performance. How did it do it? is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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Editor’s note: This story was updated March 13 to include a comment from U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers arrested a Sheboygan Falls woman during a routine check-in this week, taking her back into custody just months after an immigration court judge canceled her deportation order and began the process of securing her a green card.

Elvira Benitez, 51, spent six months in ICE custody last year after accidentally crossing the Canadian border during a family road trip in Michigan. Benitez fled an abusive home in Michoacán, Mexico, as a teenager and lived without legal status for 35 years, her family said. She first entered the immigration court system after last year’s arrest. 

She was among more than 25,000 people arrested by ICE in July 2025 alone. Roughly a third of immigrants arrested by the agency nationally between January and mid-October 2025 had neither a prior criminal history nor pending criminal charges, including Benitez. 

In her absence, her two adult daughters — both U.S. citizens — took in their school-age siblings. Judge Richard Drucker of the Cleveland immigration court cited her younger children’s struggles during Benitez’s initial detention as a reason to cancel her deportation and set her on the path to legal residency. 

Drucker initially signaled a willingness to grant Benitez relief in early November, but the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) delayed her background check — necessary for her path to a green card — for over a month, eventually releasing her in mid-December. 

The agency soon appealed Drucker’s order, stalling Benitez’s green card process. She continued attending mandatory check-ins at the Milwaukee DHS office, where ICE agents arrested her Tuesday morning before transferring her to a holding facility outside Chicago.

ICE arrested at least 107 people at the DHS office in downtown Milwaukee between January and mid-October 2025 — more than at any other Wisconsin site named in ICE arrest records. Three-quarters of those immigrants  had no pending criminal charges or past convictions, compared with just 17% of all immigrants arrested by ICE in Wisconsin during the same period.

Benitez had no other run-ins with law enforcement that could have triggered her recent arrest, said Crystal Aguilar, her eldest daughter. In Aguilar’s view, the arrest calls into question “whether families who follow the rules can rely on the decisions made in immigration court,” she added.

She complied with all requirements following her initial release, including attending every ICE supervision appointment, according to her attorney, Marc Christopher. DHS was not legally required to arrest her while its appeal is pending, he added. 

Benitez’s detention serves “no legitimate public safety purpose,” Christopher wrote in a Tuesday press release. “It separates a mother from her vulnerable U.S. citizen children despite a federal immigration judge already recognizing the extreme hardship her removal would cause them.”

An ICE spokesperson told Wisconsin Watch that Benitez will remain in custody “pending further immigration proceedings.”

“Being in detention is a choice,” they added, suggesting that undocumented immigrants should self-deport or face arrest and a permanent ban on re-entering the U.S.

ICE re-arrests Sheboygan Falls mother after judge halted deportation and cleared green card path is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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The nonprofit Center for Self-Sufficiency closed in September as federal investigators audited its use of $750,000 in government funding. 

The organization focused on supporting residents reentering society from the criminal justice system and strengthening families. Services included financial and employment coaching, parenting support and restorative justice. 

The center was based for years out of the Community Advocates headquarters at 728 N. James Lovell St. before moving to the YWCA building on King Drive in May. 

The government audit found that the use of $749,000 of the federal funds was unsupported by documentation.

“It’s kind of shocking because it’s portrayed as if there was no information that backed up spending, and that definitely wasn’t the case,” said Maudwella Kirkendoll, chief operating officer of Community Advocates and former vice president of the Center for Self-Sufficiency’s board of directors. 

Despite the audit, two former employees who were working at the center when it closed said the main reason the organization dissolved was a gradual dwindling of funding opportunities. 

Kirkendoll agreed. 

“The funding,” Kirkendoll said, “was just drying up.”

The employees asked to remain anonymous to avoid any negative impacts to future work opportunities.

The federal audit

The U.S. Department of Justice’s Office of Justice Programs oversees Second Chance Act grants, which are generally meant to support people as they reintegrate after incarceration and help reduce recidivism. 

The Center for Self-Sufficiency was awarded nearly $750,000 to provide case management and employment services to men returning to Milwaukee after incarceration from 2021 to 2024, its third time receiving the grant. 

The office approved an extension to continue the grant with no additional funding until September. 

The Department of Justice Office of the Inspector General launched an audit in May into the center’s program. The office conducted a site visit, interviewed staff, reviewed policy and procedures and requested accounting and financial records.

The audit, which was released in September, indicated the Center for Self-Sufficiency could not demonstrate compliance with certain grant requirements because it did not provide the accounting documentation needed to show how funds were spent to support its program performance. 

“While we determined that a majority of (Center for Self-Sufficiency’s) policies aligned with important conditions of the laws, regulations, guidelines, and terms and conditions applicable to the award, we found critical issues with (Center for Self-Sufficiency’s) grant financial management,” the report reads. 

The audit also found the grant’s financial activity was mixed together with activity from other sources in the organization’s accounting records for most of the time frame that was examined. 

The report recommended that the Office of Justice Programs review and “remedy” the spending, find a better use for the remaining $1,000 that was not used and make sure the Center for Self-Sufficiency has proper systems in place to track how it spends grant money before receiving any future funding. 

According to the report, the center notified the office that it was considering dissolving in July and that its board ultimately voted to close the organization by Sept. 30, 2025.

What former staff and board member are saying

Kirkendoll and the two former employees said the Center for Self-Sufficiency did not misallocate any funds.

It could verify grant program expenses with receipts and paper and computer records, but it had a past accounting system that was not clear, they said. 

When Dafi Dyer became president and CEO of the Center for Self-Sufficiency in late 2022, she and the board implemented a review of the center’s outside accounting firm after noticing some problems and switched to a new accounting firm and system in mid-2023, according to Kirkendoll.

During the audit, the center provided the records from its updated system, as well as the records from the previous accountant, according to Kirkendoll and the former employees. 

“So all that stuff is substantiated, it was there, it just wasn’t in the format that they would have expected from the accounting firm,” Kirkendoll said. 

The audit also reported that the center did not complete single audits for 2021, 2022 and 2023.

The Department of Justice Office of Public Affairs did not respond to questions about the services and documentation provided by the Center for Self-Sufficiency. 

The Office of the Inspector General did not attempt to collect the spent money, according to the former employees and Kirkendoll.

Shutting down

Kirkendoll said the board was having conversations with the center’s leadership about potentially dissolving the organization in the first quarter of 2025. 

As limited-term grants ended, according to Kirkendoll and former employees, leadership and the board were not sure if the organization would be able to receive enough funding from other grants to support its operations. 

“When we dug deeper, it just got to a point where, as a board, we decided having even one or two grants remaining just didn’t make sense,” he said. 

The center moved out of the Lovell Street building into the YWCA Southeast Wisconsin building at 1915 N. Martin Luther King Drive in May.

The Center for Self-Sufficiency made efforts to downsize by reducing employee hours and salaries, according to a former employee. It cut its staff of 10 in half in June.

The organization’s total public support dropped from $3.46 million in 2015 to $2.2 million in 2019 to $1.3 million in 2023, according to the center’s tax filings.

It also did not have much private funding – in 2023, it reported $55,054 in other gifts or contributions. 

Kirkendoll said concerns about grant funding are not specific to the Center for Self-Sufficiency. 

“Over the course of the last five-plus years, I think this funding overall for organizations that are doing the work has decreased substantially,” he said.

Impact

Both former employees said the center had a great working environment and a staff dedicated to the people they served. 

One former employee said success stories from past clients, such as staying at a job for two years or having relationships with their children or families that they couldn’t maintain before, might not be reflected in data reports but can make a big difference in a person’s life. 

Another former employee said they gave their contact information to the final participants in the reentry program and still tries to connect them with other resources. 

“They did great work, and this is the nature of nonprofits,” Kirkendoll said. “It’s, of course, always my hope that the work continues, whether it be with another organization, because there’s definitely a need in the community.” 

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Meredith Melland is the neighborhoods reporter for the Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service and a corps member of Report for America, a national service program that places journalists in local newsrooms to report on under-covered issues and communities. Report for America plays no role in editorial decisions in the NNS newsroom.

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Jonathan Aguilar is a visual journalist at Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service who is supported through a partnership between CatchLight Local and Report for America.

Milwaukee’s Center for Self-Sufficiency closes after federal audit finds unsupported grant documentation is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

Reading Time: 6 minutes

Credibility is central to the criminal justice system.

Who is telling the truth? Who do jurors and judges believe? 

A year ago, the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, TMJ4 News and Wisconsin Watch published the Milwaukee County district attorney’s list of law enforcement officers with integrity violations, allegations of dishonesty or bias, and past criminal charges. 

It was the first time the full list had been made public. 

Prosecutors must share information about witness credibility, including that of police officers, with defense attorneys. Then the attorneys decide if they want to try to raise those credibility concerns in court. 

Often called the “Brady/Giglio list” because of landmark U.S. Supreme Court cases, the list is meant to help ensure people get a fair trial and prevent wrongful convictions. 

Since the list was published last year, local defense attorneys say they’ve noticed prosecutors giving more frequent Brady notifications. But they argue that Milwaukee County’s criteria of what gets an officer on the list remains too narrow – excluding officers who should qualify – and that there is still too much inconsistency among county prosecutors about when and how they share Brady material. 

District Attorney Kent Lovern said his office has always fulfilled its legal and ethical obligations, but he acknowledged making changes to improve the list’s accuracy. The most significant was appointing two executive staff members to help maintain the list.

The first list his office released to reporters in September 2024 had inaccurate, incomplete and outdated information.

Some examples: an officer wrongly described as involved in a custody death, another listed for a criminal case that had been expunged, and others listed with the wrong agency. A handful of officers were deceased.

A new list, released in October 2025, did not have those kinds of problems.

“We put more eyes on the list that were beyond my two eyes,” Lovern said, adding: “We think that’s enhanced, at least, the information, making it as current as possible.” 

In the last year, the District Attorney’s Office added 13 officers and removed two. Most of those officers were added because of internal, not criminal, investigations, and about half remain employed with their agency, according to public records. 

For Caitlin Firer, a defense attorney, the public list has served as a backstop.  

“If I’m watching a body camera and it’s striking me as something’s not right, I will run that officer’s name on the Brady list,” she told TMJ4 News, later adding: “It’s a resource now where we see those names, and we know they’re on the Brady list.” 

Last year, the city’s largest police union, the Milwaukee Police Association, criticized the district attorney’s decision to release the list and news organizations’ decision to publish it. Others in policing praised the transparency. 

“We’re given so much more credibility and respect when we take the stand as opposed to the average citizen,” said David Thomas, a Maryland-based policing consultant and expert.

The Brady list, he said, “goes to the very question of integrity.” 

District attorney’s office using same strict criteria to add officers to the list

What has not changed is the strict criteria used to get an officer on the list. 

Officers are added only if they have a pending criminal charge, a past conviction or an internal investigation “that brings into question the officer’s integrity.” 

Experts told the Journal Sentinel last year the policy appeared improperly narrow and omitted other potential Brady material, including when a judge finds an officer not credible. 

Lovern stood by that practice. His office still does not track those judicial decisions, commonly known as adverse credibility rulings. 

“Credibility determinations, which are frequently made by courts, don’t constitute judgments of untruthfulness,” he said in a recent interview. 

When prosecutors are weighing whether to call an officer to testify, it makes sense to distinguish between overt dishonesty and credibility rulings, said Rachel Moran, a professor at the University of St. Thomas School of Law in Minneapolis, in an interview last month. 

But an officer who was found not credible in court still belongs on the Brady list, she said.

“An officer who has misstated information in his police report, that’s exculpatory regardless of whether the officer intended to do it,” Moran said.

With long internal investigations, it can be years before an officer lands on the list

If an officer is referred to prosecutors for a potential criminal charge, he or she is placed on the Brady list immediately. 

But when it comes to internal investigations, police departments often notify prosecutors at the end of the process, if an officer is found to have broken any department rules.

That can leave a gap. 

Milwaukee police officer Eian West was added to the list in 2025, two years after he and three other officers came under investigation for their response to two domestic violence calls days apart that involved the same couple.  

The officers were accused of failing to make mandatory arrests or file prompt reports, despite the woman saying the man had threatened her with a gun and tried to set her on fire, according to department records. 

West and another officer went to the second call, on April 11, 2023, after two witnesses reported a man beating a woman in a front yard. The officers called her an ambulance.

Later that day, the woman woke up in the hospital and called Police District 4, prompting a sergeant to send two different officers to reinterview the woman and file a report.

Two days after that, the woman had a miscarriage.

Internal affairs asked West why he waited until his next shift, on April 12, after the other officers had been dispatched, to write his report. West’s report also listed the woman as the suspect and did not document the fact that she lived with the man, which is one of the elements of domestic violence, according to a summary from internal affairs.

West maintained he “was not trying to cover up that he was sent to a battery (domestic violence) and did not file it,” police records show.

Still, the officer agreed that he had violated the core value of integrity because he was not completely honest and accurate about all relevant facts in the case, the records say. 

The domestic violence calls took place in April 2023. Internal affairs interviewed West that July. But the internal investigation did not end until 2025, and only after that was West added to the Brady list.

During those two years, prosecutors did not know his integrity was under question in an investigation that ultimately resulted in a 20-day suspension. 

Since prosecutors did not know, they could not disclose it to defense attorneys. 

Milwaukee Police Chief Jeffrey Norman acknowledged it sometimes takes years to complete internal investigations, depending on the complexity. 

“We are not trying to delay for delay’s sake,” Norman said in an interview. “It is unfortunate that we have a number of investigations on our plate.”

More urgent internal investigations, such as police shootings, can take priority, and the department must respect the officers’ due process and collective bargaining rights, the chief said.

Angel Johnson, a regional attorney manager with the State Public Defenders Office in Milwaukee, said that the office’s clients also have rights. 

“If there’s an officer that has credibility issues and they’re going to testify in a proceeding against my client, (my clients) have the same right to due process,” she said. 

Why some officers were removed from the Brady list

The Brady list is fluid. 

As officers come on, others come off. 

Kenton Burtch and Elric Erving, both of the Milwaukee Police Department, were removed in the last year. 

Erving was investigated for disorderly conduct in 2019. No criminal charges were filed, and his name came off the list, Lovern said. 

Burtch was accused of improperly filing his time card and claiming an estimated $1,700 he was not owed. He was demoted from sergeant and suspended for six days.

He appealed to the city’s Fire and Police Commission, which found the situation was a mistake related to the officer’s remote work arrangement and confusion over how to handle it. The commission overturned his discipline, finding “no indication or evidence of intentional misconduct,” and restored his rank. 

Because of that, Lovern said, his name came off the list. 

In the past, Lovern has removed officers who complete deferred prosecution agreements or who win appeals to get their jobs back. 

Some defense attorneys have argued that officers should only rarely, if ever, come off the Brady list.  

“Once you’re placed on the Brady list, if you continue to testify in court, you should not be removed,” Johnson said. 

As of September 2025, the list had 217 entries involving 190 individual officers. The district attorney’s office released the list in October in response to a public records request. Reporters filed records requests to gather more information about new individuals on the list. Some of those requests remain pending. 

In the months since, the list continues to change. For example, the district attorney’s office added a Milwaukee officer recently charged with accessing sensitive license plate data for personal reasons, despite tagging the purpose of his searches as “investigation.”

It was not the first time the officer, Josue Ayala, had been accused of dishonesty on the job, with one defense attorney even telling a federal prosecutor that Ayala exaggerated so much that it seemed to be a “compulsion,” the Journal Sentinel previously reported. Ayala has since resigned.

Defense attorneys continue to rely on media reports, decisions from the city’s Fire and Police Commission and civil lawsuit judgments to identify officers with questionable credibility – and that’s a problem, Johnson said. 

“It should be happening from the DA’s office, but we are still finding ourselves doing that legwork and it’s not our obligation or ethical duty to do so,” she said.

This story is part of Duty to Disclose, an investigation by the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, TMJ4 News and Wisconsin Watch. The Fund for Investigative Journalism provided financial support for this project.

Milwaukee County’s list of officers with integrity issues became public. What’s happened since? is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

Reading Time: 3 minutes

A federal lawsuit filed Feb. 23 by the legal nonprofit group Protect Democracy alleges the Department of Homeland Security used facial recognition technology unlawfully to track legal observers and label them domestic terrorists. 

In Milwaukee County, law enforcement representatives are addressing facial recognition technology-related fears from residents. They’re concerned about a potential collaboration with a company called Biometrica, which provides access to facial recognition search results.  

In August, Milwaukee County Sheriff Denita Ball signed an “agreement of intent” to enter into a contract with Biometrica, said James Burnett, director of public affairs and community engagement and acting chief of staff at the Milwaukee County Sheriff’s Office. 

“But the contract is still considered to be in draft form – not fully signed, executed or valid – and has to proceed, like any other proposed contract, through the county’s statutory signing process,” Burnett said. 

There currently are no services or technology being provided by Biometrica, and Biometrica does not have access to any sheriff’s office data, Burnett said.

County Supervisor Sky Capriolo, member of the county’s Judiciary, Law Enforcement and General Services Committee, said she and residents have serious concerns.  

“It warrants more consideration, education and discussion,” Capriolo said. “I certainly am not ready to green-light a contract.”

Capriolo said she’s waiting to hear whether the contract will go to her committee again. 

Milwaukee Police Chief Jeffrey Norman took a different step and banned the use of facial technology by his department in early February. 

On Feb. 24, Norman announced the suspension of MPD officer Josue Ayala for the improper use of a different tracking tool, the Flock camera system, to track a dating partner and a former partner. 

“I am extremely disappointed to learn about the incident and expect all members, sworn and civilian, to demonstrate the highest ethical standards in the performance of their duties,” said Norman in a statement.

Ayala was charged by the Milwaukee County District Attorney’s Office with one count of attempted misconduct in public office. Norman said he immediately directed MPD to create additional auditing mechanisms.

Concerns remain high

Social justice and civil rights advocates have expressed grave concerns about the use of the technology by both agencies, citing evidence of inaccuracies, racial bias and privacy violations. 

Facial recognition technology uses artificial intelligence to identify someone by comparing a photo of an unknown face to some database of images of known faces, said Katie Kinsey at the Feb. 5 Milwaukee Fire and Police Commission meeting during a presentation by the NYU Policing Project. 

The image databases can include mug shot collections, driver’s license records or images found on the internet, Kinsey said.

Facial recognition technology and local law enforcement

In spring, MPD acknowledged it used outside agencies’ licenses for facial recognition search results for two to three years without a written department policy.

The department also announced it was considering an agreement with Biometrica – an agreement that would have provided access to facial recognition technology to the department in exchange for approximately 2.5 million Milwaukee County Jail booking photos.

This proposal prompted months of public pushback before the announcement by Norman in February that the department would no longer pursue the technology.

ACLU preaches vigilance

The American Civil Liberties Union of Wisconsin welcomed Norman’s announcement but also expressed concerns about MPD’s past decision making.  

It is “extremely concerning that MPD secretly used FRT (facial recognition technology) searches for years without any standard operating procedure – or any written guidelines – in place,” an ACLU spokesperson said in an email to NNS.

The organization is urging Milwaukee residents to remain vigilant.

“Countless Milwaukee residents and community leaders have engaged in thoughtful community education, spent hours upon hours in public meetings and contacted their local elected officials to voice their unequivocal opposition to the use of (facial recognition technology), and they will still be watching,” the spokesperson said. 

The MPD spokesperson told NNS the department could revisit the issue in the future when a policy is in place that aligns with both public safety benefit and public concerns.

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Jonathan Aguilar is a visual journalist at Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service who is supported through a partnership between CatchLight Local and Report for America.

Milwaukee law enforcement faces growing scrutiny around facial recognition technology use is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

Reading Time: 4 minutes

When the Social Development Commission stopped running its anti-poverty programs and services in 2024, it left many employees and contractors unpaid for completed work. 

Nearly two years later, some have received a partial payment, while others are still waiting.   

Deja Allen, a former housing intake specialist for SDC, is owed $2,518.09 in gross wages, according to her wage claim. 

She said she was out of work for eight months and the unpaid wages affected her tremendously as she figured out how to pay her rent and bills. 

“I am thankful for my family being able to assist me while I looked for other employment,” Allen said. 

SDC stopped running its anti-poverty programs and laid off staff in April 2024. Since then, the agency has dealt with board turnover, lawsuits and the loss of access to community action funding.

What’s happening with the wage claims lawsuit?

The Wisconsin Department of Justice filed a lawsuit on behalf of the state’s Department of Workforce Development that claims SDC owed nearly $360,000 in back wages and benefits to former employees.

Sarah Woods, former youth and family services staff, was laid off when the agency paused services in April 2024. She filed a wage claim with the Wisconsin Department of Workforce Development, which informed her that she is owed $4,756. 

Woods said she last received an update from the state in May 2025, when a representative said SDC would not have more information until the legal process is completed. 

Department of Justice attorney Michael D. Morris said at a status conference last month that William Sulton, SDC’s former legal counsel, is still working behind the scenes with him on reaching a resolution and requested additional time. The next status conference is scheduled for 10:30 a.m. on March 26. 

A spokesperson for the Department of Workforce Development said the department isn’t able to provide additional details on the lawsuit’s status or outcomes while litigation continues. 

Jorge Franco, interim CEO of SDC and chair of the SDC board, said that paying employees and contractors what they’re owed remains a major priority for SDC. He advised former employees to follow the legal process closely. 

“It’ll be upon the attorneys for the claimant to determine what and how they proceed through next steps,” he said.

Contractors still owed

In his more than 40 years providing weatherization services in the Milwaukee area, Jaime Hurtado said SDC had one of the best and most robust weatherization divisions. 

Hurtado is the owner and president of Insulation Technologies Inc., or Intec, and worked with SDC for more than 20 years.

SDC received funding for the work through Wisconsin’s Weatherization Assistance Program. The Wisconsin Department of Administration suspended SDC’s participation in the program in March 2024 and began a forensic accounting after it reported a misallocation of funds. 

“They had built a professional, top-tier delivery service, a program to deliver these services in weatherization for people who need it the most,” Hurtado said. “It’s a heartbreak to see that go out of existence.”

Franco has said the department refused to reimburse SDC for nearly $490,000 in weatherization work and let it continue accumulating expenses before shutting down the program.

Intec and two other contractors, Affordable Heating and Air Conditioning Inc. and DMJ Services LLC, otherwise known as Action Heating & Cooling, sued SDC on claims that it failed to pay for weatherization work completed under contract in 2023 and 2024.

A judge granted the contractors a money judgment of $186,517.03 plus statutory costs and interest in October. About $112,500 of that would go to Intec, but it hasn’t been collected yet.

Jon Yakish, owner of Micro Analytical Inc., said his asbestos-testing laboratory has not been paid for 90% of the contracts it had with SDC before it closed. 

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” he said, estimating the remaining unpaid work cost around $2,300. “And I know there’s other people out there where it was a much bigger deal, so it’s hard for me to complain.”

Loss of work

More than the missing payments, Yakish and Hurtado’s businesses have felt the sustained impact of losing a loyal customer. 

Intec continues to perform work in the state’s weatherization program, Hurtado said, but at a reduced level. He said other providers have brought in a smaller volume of business than SDC. 

“We just move our attention to other parts of the market,” Hurtado said. 

Yakish said Micro Analytical also hasn’t received the same amount of business it had from SDC from the other organizations that have taken over the weatherization program services in Milwaukee.

“We don’t want to rely on the government, but it is a baseline of work that’s always going on, that kind of, in a way, helps us be recession-proof,” Yakish said. 

Moving on

Hurtado said the lawsuit was the only way to secure Intec’s rights to collect the money that it’s owed, though he acknowledged that SDC owes other lenders and suppliers.

“Who knows if they’ll have enough money to pay our balance, but at least we’ll be in the list,” he said. 

The $112,500 amount is about 25% of the total amount Intec was owed from SDC, Hurtado said. He said the state worked with other weatherization service agencies to pay Intec the other 75%, which helped the company. 

“Thank God we’re diversified enough, and we’re a strong company,” he said. 

Yakish said he submitted invoices and data on work performed at the state’s request in order to get paid, and a few contracts were paid. He became frustrated after the companies that had taken over SDC’s weatherization contracts kept asking for the same information.

“I kind of told them, ‘Look, I’m throwing my hands up.
This is the last time I’m doing this,’” he said. “So I don’t know if they took that as I was unwilling to work with them or whatever, but it just seemed really clear that nothing was actually going to happen.”

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Meredith Melland is the neighborhoods reporter for the Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service and a corps member of Report for America, a national service program that places journalists in local newsrooms to report on under-covered issues and communities. Report for America plays no role in editorial decisions in the NNS newsroom.

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Jonathan Aguilar is a visual journalist at Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service who is supported through a partnership between CatchLight Local and Report for America.

Nearly two years after SDC shutdown, former workers and contractors still seek payment  is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.