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.”

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.

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.

Milwaukee Ald. Alex Brower was aware of fears in his community about immigration enforcement. Like many Wisconsinites, Brower had watched as Operation: Metro Surge in Minnesota led to thousands of arrests, community resistance, and the killings of Renee Good, and Alex Pretti by federal agents and the nonfatal shooting of Julio Sosa Colis. Hundreds of residents packed a town hall Brower held in early February. “People are ready to be engaged,” Brower told the Wisconsin Examiner. “People are just sick of what’s going on.”

On Wednesday, elected officials will host a bilingual ICE awareness community discussion on Milwaukee’s South Side. Earlier this month, Brower and other Milwaukee alders announced a package of local ordinances that aim to prepare Milwaukee for a surge in Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) operations.  

The package would require all ICE agents to be unmasked when interacting with the public in Milwaukee, and prohibit agents from staging raids on county property such as libraries and parks. Ald. JoCasta Zamarripa said that the local push is “an effort to deescalate fear, tensions and confusion,” WUWM reported. Ald. Marina Dimitrijevic said at the alders’ Feb. 11 news conference, “I stand here today to talk about something we can say yes to…You heard a lot of what we’re willing to say no to. We’re going to set the standards high in the city of Milwaukee, the largest city in the state of Wisconsin, that is built on our diversity. It is our strength.” 

Common Council President Ald. Jose Perez joined Zamarripa, Brower, Dimitrijevic, and community members in announcing the package. The proposals will need to be approved by the council, and then head to Mayor Cavalier Johnson’s desk. The Milwaukee Democratic Socialists of America have also been circulating a letter writing campaign to compel the common council to sign the ICE Out package. Over 1,800 letters have been sent so far, with the group’s goal being a total of 3,200 letters.

People in Milwaukee want to see their local government try to do something to protect against abuses by the federal government, even city ordinances could be struck down in court, Brower said. When he asked residents who attended his town hall if they would want local officials to at least try to do something, he told the Examiner, the crowd unanimously yelled “yes!”

“So many people are ready, themselves individually, to take action,” he said, ”either by supporting a mutual aid effort, getting trained to be an ICE verifier, or participating in any sort of picketing or protesting that happens at the site of an ICE abduction. So that’s No. 1 – I heard that almost universally. And then the second thing that I heard was that people want the City of Milwaukee to do everything it can to fight ICE.”

A question for local law enforcement 

As a matter of policy, the Milwaukee Police Department (MPD) does not engage in immigration enforcement. MPD’s policy states that “proactive immigration enforcement by local police can be detrimental to our mission and policing philosophy when doing so deters some individuals from participating in their civic obligation to assist the police.” 

The Milwaukee County Sheriff’s Office — which oversees the county jail — does not hold people in custody for ICE. Prior to the arrest and conviction of former Circuit Court Judge Hannah Dugan, local judges had been debating the creation of a draft policy after several immigration arrests by plain-clothes federal agents at the county courthouse.

Limiting cooperation with ICE is a philosophy shared by some police departments across the country, but not all. Under the second administration of President Donald Trump, more sheriffs and police departments have joined the federal 287(g) program, which deputizes local law enforcement to conduct immigration enforcement. The counties of Waukesha and Washington, which border Milwaukee County to the west and north, both have 287(g) agreements.

For counties that do not want to collaborate with ICE, it’s not clear what can be done to avoid the warrantless searches, mass arrests, and use of force Chicago and Minneapolis have experienced. When asked how police would respond to a Minneapolis or Chicago-style immigration surge, the Milwaukee Police Department said it would rely on its existing policies. Beyond that, however, the department said “we do not have an operation like Chicago therefore cannot provide information about a policy of something that we do not have in our city.”

Brower said that answers provided by MPD officials who attended his town hall did not satisfy community members. “I chimed in as well, sharing with the police department, and with those present, that I believe that MPD should commit to the very least investigating, if not arresting, individuals who break the law,” even if they’re federal agents. 

Back in 2020, when masked and militarized federal agents cracked down on Black Lives Matter protesters in Portland and other cities, then-Milwaukee County District Attorney John Chisholm responded to videos showing people being beaten, sprayed, gassed and arrested by agents who also loaded detainees into unmarked vehicles, saying, “Kidnapping, false imprisonment, unlawful assault, those are crimes.” 

“Those are crimes no matter who commits them,” Chisholm said in 2020, “whether you’re a federal agent or a citizen. You can’t do that, not in the United States, and it won’t be tolerated here.” 

Would a shooting investigation be independent in Wisconsin?

After federal agents killed Good and Pretti within three weeks of each other, local and state officials in Minnesota called for independent investigations. Yet the federal government refused, and even blocked Minnesota state law enforcement investigators from accessing the scenes of the two killings. That lack of cooperation from the federal government continues today, as the FBI refuses to provide access to evidence from the Pretti shooting to Minnesota’s state Bureau of Criminal Apprehension (BCA). 

In a statement reported by the Minnesota Reformer, the state agency’s superintendent Drew Evans said that “while this lack of cooperation is concerning and unprecedented, the BCA is committed to thorough, independent and transparent investigations of these incidents, even if hampered by a lack of access to key information and evidence.” Recently, ICE was also admitted that two of its agents are currently being investigated after giving false statements under oath about the non-fatal shooting of Sosa-Celis. Sosa-Celis originally faced felony charges for assaulting an officer, but those charges have now been dropped. 

Wisconsin state law prevents police from leading investigations into fatal shootings of civilians by members of their own agencies. Passed a decade after the Kenosha Police Department quickly cleared a killing by one of its officers, the Michael Bell law has required that such investigations be led by an agency uninvolved in the death. Local prosecutors then decide whether officers will be charged or cleared. 

Which agency leads the investigation depends on where you are. While the state Department of Justice (DOJ) leads many officer-involved shooting investigations across Wisconsin, sometimes local police departments and sheriffs need to step in. Since 2015, a component of the Wisconsin DOJ known as the Division of Criminal Investigation has investigated 136 killings of civilians by police from Racine to Blue Mounds, New Berlin to Pine River. 

In Milwaukee, however, those sorts of investigations are led by a group of nearly two dozen law enforcement agencies from Milwaukee County, Waukesha and Brookfield, known as the Milwaukee Area Investigative Team (MAIT). The team, which has existed for over a decade, rotates responsibility for investigating officer-involved deaths between its various member agencies. MAIT’s practices, however, have been criticized for being too lenient to officers who kill civilians. 

The Examiner asked both MAIT and the Wisconsin DOJ how an investigation into a shooting by a federal agent would be handled, especially considering that DHS had prevented local agencies from accessing evidence. A DOJ spokesperson said in an emailed statement that “investigations of officer-involved critical incidents should be conducted fully, transparently, and impartially by an independent agency.” The statement added that the state DOJ’s Department of Criminal Investigation “regularly serves in this independent investigatory role and is prepared to investigate if necessary.”

But MAIT will only investigate incidents involving its own members, the team’s appointed commander, Wauwatosa Police Department Lt. Joseph Roy, wrote in an emailed statement to the Examiner. “MAIT is not a department, entity, or unit,” Roy said. Instead, he described MAIT as “a cooperative effort” which has not partnered with any federal agency to date. “Per our bylaws, MAIT is restricted to investigating officer-involved shootings from agencies in the cooperative. While we share a close partnership with our local federal entities, MAIT would not investigate those incidents. That responsibility would lie with the jurisdiction in which the shooting occurred, in coordination with the involved agency.”

If federal immigration agents killed someone within the jurisdiction of a MAIT member agency, such as Milwaukee or Wauwatosa, then that local agency would need to rely on its own resources to investigate, and coordinate with the federal agency responsible for the shooting. 

Although shootings by federal agents are rare in Milwaukee, they’re not unheard of. In 2017, task force officers from the city police departments of West Allis and Milwaukee were working alongside Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) agents to track down 32-year-old Jermaine Claybrooks as part of a drug investigation. WISN reported that Claybrooks sped away in his vehicle upon realizing that unmarked vehicles were attempting to block him in, crashing into a nearby tree. Officers said that Claybrooks appeared to be armed as they broke out his windows, and fired when they said he pointed a gun. 

Although local media and prosecutors focused on the DEA’s involvement, a DHS agent’s firearm was also inspected by investigators. More recently, DEA agents have supported arrest teams for immigration operations, including the team former Judge Dugan confronted outside her courtroom last year. 

The Claybrooks investigation was handled by an early version of MAIT called the Milwaukee County Suburban Investigations Team, with the Wauwatosa Police Department serving as the lead agency. Later that year, prosecutors decided against charging the officers who shot Claybrooks. Although this earlier iteration of MAIT did investigate a shooting involving federal agents, the team in its current form would not step in. 

Brower said that at the very least, he’d expect MPD to “at least attempt” to conduct a serious investigation. During his town hall, Brower said that law enforcement officials expressed doubts that prosecutors would be able to secure a conviction against federal agents who kill local residents during immigration operations. “OK, that doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t try,” he said. 

A community preparing itself

On Wednesday, local elected officials will host a bilingual ICE awareness community discussion at the Sister Joel Read Conference Center on the campus of Alverno College. Dubbed the “Safety in Numbers: Protecting Our Historically Immigrant South Side” meeting, the discussion will provide residents another opportunity to share their concerns about immigration enforcement, and prepare for a surge in Milwaukee.

“As an immigrant-rich community, the South Side deserves clear, accurate information and reassurance that our local institutions are focused on safety, dignity, and the rule of law,” said Ald. Peter Burgelis. “This meeting is about empowering residents with knowledge, connecting them to trusted resources, and making sure people know they are not alone.” 

County Supervisor Sky Capriolo said in a statement that “community safety starts with transparency and trust.” Capriolo said that “by bringing people together and sharing accurate information, we can reduce fear, combat misinformation, and strengthen our neighborhoods.” MPD Chief Jeffrey Norman, Milwaukee County Sheriff Danita Ball, and representatives from Voces de la Frontera and the Milwaukee Turners will also attend the Wednesday community meeting. 

Tamping down on misinformation has been a growing concern in Milwaukee, with unverified rumors of ICE agents roaming the city having floated around since January. The city and county governments in Milwaukee have also created Know Your Rights resource webpages. 

“Our South Side is strong because of its diversity and deep sense of community,” Zamparripa said in a statement ahead of the Wednesday meeting. “This conversation is about standing together, ensuring residents know their rights, and reinforcing that Milwaukee is a city that values all of its people.” 

An effort to limit the Milwaukee Common Council’s ability to shape police and fire department policy passed an Assembly vote Thursday, in the form of an amendment to a completely unrelated bill. If the measure becomes law, the council would need a unanimous vote before suspending or modifying police or fire department policy. 

The amendment was offered by Rep. Bob Donovan (R-Greenfield) on Thursday, as lawmakers undertook a lengthy Assembly floor session voting on legislation. Although the amendment falls in line with past Republican moves to weaken the control local government has over law enforcement, it was attached to a bill completely unrelated to that issue. 

Donovan’s amendment was attached to a Republican bill framed as granting parents and guardians more access to medical records of minor children. The bill, among other things, would eliminate the ability for children who are at least 14 years old to contest release of their mental health records and the results of HIV testing to their parents or guardians. 

Nothing about the bill Donovan attached his amendment to involves common councils setting policy for police and fire departments. Yet this sort of maneuver was not unheard of in the lead up to the Assembly floor vote on Thursday. Republican lawmakers also amended a bill regarding hunting sandhill cranes to include provisions covering wake boat regulations. Another bill designed to provide additional court support statewide was amended to selectively remove additional public defenders from Milwaukee County. 

It’s also not the first time Republicans worked to disrupt the ability of officials in Milwaukee to oversee the Milwaukee Police Department (MPD). In 2023, after failing to pass bills backed by the Milwaukee Police Association aimed at preventing the city from ever reducing its police force and removing, forcing Milwaukee Public Schools to re-adopt school resource officers, and eliminating the policy-setting power over MPD that the Fire and Police Commission (FPC) had enjoyed for decades, Republican leaders attached those same provisions to a shared revenue deal which Milwaukee County needed in order to avoid a fiscal catastrophe.

Since the passage of the deal, FPC members and local activists alike have decried the attack on the FPC’s ability to oversee the police department. In lieu of setting policy, the FPC is able to make policy recommendations to the common council, an alternative avenue Donovan’s amendment is tailored to close.

Although the amended bill passed the Assembly, it now needs to pass in the Senate, and then to the governor’s desk. It’s unclear if the bill will gain Senate support, where several organizations have lobbied against it.

The backlog of unresolved felony-related matters in Milwaukee County has surpassed the pandemic-era peak, topping more than 10,000 as of Oct. 13, according to data obtained from the Milwaukee County District Attorney’s Office through an NNS open records request.

As cases linger, people throughout the criminal justice system feel the effects, including victims and their families, people accused of crimes and the broader community, said Kent Lovern, Milwaukee County district attorney.

“‘Justice delayed, justice denied’ applies to everybody,” Lovern said. 

One recent high-profile incident reaffirms how case backlogs could have tragic and life-altering consequences. 

On Feb. 5, a Milwaukee man, Mile Dukic, allegedly stabbed and killed 44-year-old Amanda Varisco on West National Avenue and S. 36th Street. At the time of the killing, Dukic had separate open felony cases in Milwaukee County Circuit Court – for bail jumping and stalking. He was charged with another felony, first-degree intentional homicide, on Feb. 9.

Dukic is currently in custody with bail set at $500,000.

Two backlogs

The district attorney’s office plays a pivotal role at both ends of the felony pipeline, said a spokesperson for the Wisconsin State Public Defender’s Office: referrals from police awaiting a charging decision, plus charged felony cases working their way through the courts.

The Milwaukee Police Department made 5,650 summary felony arrests in 2025, according to an MPD spokesperson. The department continues to work with the Milwaukee County District Attorney’s Office to best address the felony backlog, the MPD spokesperson said.

District attorney records show 2,924 pending uncharged felony cases as of October 2025.

State office wants county to change approach, charge fewer felonies

The spokesperson for the Wisconsin State Public Defender’s Office said the district attorney’s office can and should do more to address the growing backlog by adjusting its approach. 

“We believe prosecutors should be exercising more discretion in which referrals they are charging,” the spokesperson said. The spokesperson said the office regularly sees clients charged with relatively minor offenses lose jobs or housing as a result – consequences that can outweigh the underlying charge.

When the prosecutor’s office officially presses felony charges, these cases can get bogged down and stay in the courts. Resolution to the cases depends not only on prosecutors but also on defense attorneys, judges, court staff and other resources that are strained as well, Lovern said. 

Based on the district attorney’s internal case-tracking system, more than 7,000 felony cases were charged but not yet resolved as of Oct. 13. 

“The influx of felony charges coming out of the DA’s office isn’t benefiting the court system or public safety,” said State Public Defender Jennifer Bias. “It’s a waste of our scarce attorney resources.”

Increase in serious criminal activity

Lovern pushes back on the idea that prosecutors are charging too many cases.

“I want to make it very clear: I don’t have goals for what we ought to be charging,” he said. “I don’t have a directive of what the percentage of our charging rate should be.”

Prosecutors decline to move forward on many referrals, said Jeffrey Altenburg, Milwaukee’s chief deputy district attorney. 

On a basic public safety level, there are simply more serious felonies being committed, Lovern and Altenburg said.

“I think that that’s exactly what we’re seeing,” Altenburg said. “We’re seeing more referrals coming to this office that involve firearms, violence, sexual violence.” 

Milwaukee Police Department data show reports of the majority of the most serious offenses declined from 2024 to 2025, with the exception of homicides and human trafficking, which increased slightly.

Violent crime in Milwaukee has generally declined in the past few years – but from historic highs seen during the pandemic, according to data from the Council on Criminal Justice.

When to charge

Charging decisions begin with a decision about whether a case is provable beyond a reasonable doubt, Altenburg said.

“We adhere to that standard very scrupulously in this office,” he said.  

Once that is determined, the district attorney’s office moves to the question of whether prosecution is necessary or a different kind of intervention is more appropriate, Altenburg said.

Alternatives to traditional prosecution

In Milwaukee, there are two alternative interventions: diversion and deferred prosecution.

Diversion allows a person to complete requirements, such as treatment, restitution or community service, without a criminal charge. 

Deferred prosecution involves issuing charges with an agreement in which a conviction is withheld if the person meets various conditions.

Lovern said local prosecutors created an early-intervention approach designed to steer nonviolent cases driven by substance use or mental health challenges out of the criminal justice system when appropriate. 

In 2020, Milwaukee County intervened in roughly 600 cases, Altenburg said. Last year, the county intervened in roughly 1,600 cases.

Lovern said the nature of modern policing – and modern evidence – has fundamentally changed prosecutors’ workload.

The sheer volume of evidence that must be reviewed contributes to growing wait times before charging decisions can be made, Lovern said. 

More evidence is generated because of modern technologies and other tools used by police. A single incident can, for example, generate hours of body camera footage that prosecutors review before making charging decisions, Lovern said. 

In 2020, there were 84,000 pieces of evidence in Milwaukee’s database. In 2024, there were 1.7 million items. 

“I’m sure last year, it was even higher. That’s just where we’re headed,” Lovern said.

Staffing and system capacity

Something that adds to both backlogs – uncharged cases awaiting a decision and charged cases in the system – is insufficient staffing levels throughout the court system, a trend that has continued since the pandemic. 

The district attorney’s office has about 125 full-time prosecutors, Lovern said. 

“Now that is a lot. It’s the same number that we had when (Altenburg) and I started in this office 28 years ago, though.”

The State Public Defender’s Office also faces staffing challenges, according to its spokesperson. 

“Broadly speaking, our agency needs more staff statewide,” the spokesperson said. “This wouldn’t address delays caused by prosecutors, but it would help to decrease the time it takes to appoint attorneys to indigent defendants and reduce the turnover in staff that office experiences due to burnout.”

There is also a need for support staff who help with administrative tasks, freeing up attorneys.

Lovern said unstable funding adds to staffing pressures.

About a third of legal staff in the county had been funded with federal grant money, which has been a little less predictable in the last couple of years, Lovern said.  

“We can use more positions,” Lovern said. “There’s no question about that.”

Justice delayed: More than 10,000 felony matters unresolved in Milwaukee County 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.

North Division High School had always been a staple in Milwaukee’s Black community. 

But a Jan. 19, 1976, order by federal Judge John Reynolds for Milwaukee Public Schools to desegregate almost changed that. 

The ruling led MPS to propose changes three years later with the goal to integrate the 97% Black North Side high school. 

The solution? Close North Division as the neighborhood knew it and reopen it as a citywide magnet school for medical and science technology. Magnet schools offer special instruction and programs that are typically not available elsewhere.  

The district had utilized a similar strategy in the years prior to integrate Rufus King High School and Golda Meir School by changing them to magnet schools. 

The proposal for North Division would integrate the school by drawing more white students from other parts of the city but would also limit enrollment options for students in the surrounding neighborhoods. 

Residents quickly fought back, organizing the Coalition to Save North Division. 

Howard Fuller, who led the coalition, remembers the community’s reaction when the plan was first announced.  

“We ended up filling up the auditorium at the board meeting at Central Office,” said Fuller, who went on to become superintendent of MPS from 1991 to 1995. “That’s when I gave the speech and ended by saying ‘enough is enough.’ That then became the slogan for the Coalition to Save North.”

Fuller said the group organized marches and meetings, canvassed across the neighborhood and eventually took legal action and won.

Desegregation at MPS

Lawyer and politician Lloyd Barbee, among others, filed a lawsuit against the Milwaukee Public School Board of Directors in 1965 to desegregate MPS, Milwaukee historian and author James Nelsen said.  

The suit alleged that the district’s policy of assigning students to their neighborhood school maintained school segregation because of the widespread residential segregation across the city. 

The case ran until 1976, when Reynolds ruled that Milwaukee Public Schools needed to take action to desegregate the district. 

Reynolds then established a monitoring board to enforce and oversee districtwide desegregation plans.

Nelsen said shortly before the ruling, the Board of Directors welcomed new Superintendent Lee McMurrin, who had implemented magnet schools in Toledo, Ohio.

Once he came to Milwaukee, McMurrin pushed to rebrand some neighborhood high schools as magnet schools, encouraging students from across the city to go to different schools.

When a new North Division building opened in 1978, the district tried attracting white students to the school but was unsuccessful. 

This, in combination with low performing grades at the school, led McMurrin to target North Division to become the city’s newest magnet school. The school would open a medical and science technology program for high schoolers across the city.

“We’re not satisfied with the results at North Division,” McMurrin said in a 1979 Milwaukee Sentinel article. “We will not have a change about unless we make it a brand new school.”

Community pushes back

Fuller, students and the neighborhood had major concerns about the new plan. 

“The thing that concerned me the most was that once they built the brand-new building, then the first thing they were going to do then was to put all of the neighborhood kids out,” Fuller said. “In part, it was also a pushback against the way that desegregation was being implemented in the city at that time.”

North Division’s student council organized a rally in which 400 students walked out of school and marched to the Central Office in protest, according to local news reports. 

The plan would close enrollment to freshmen and sophomores. Willie Washington, then a North Division junior, spoke out against the plan during the protest.  

“We feel that we should not be used as guinea pigs for integration,” Washington told the Milwaukee Journal.

Fuller said the coalition spent the summer going door to door in the neighborhood, held community meetings and built a parent group.

When the new school year started in September 1979, Fuller and over 200 students gathered for a mass meeting on North Division’s front lawn. Fuller told students to study hard and “demand that they be educated.”

After months of protesting, Fuller said, the coalition escalated to legal action through the monitoring board, established to observe desegregation efforts.

Success at a cost

Fuller said the Board of Directors eventually reached an out-of-court settlement and dropped the plan.

“It was the first battle where the board reversed its decision on closing a school in the Black community because all of the protests before had never gained any traction,” Fuller said. 

The school would remain a neighborhood school but also offer a career specialty program, according to the settlement. 

The agreement said the school should aim for about 2,000 students, 60% Black and 40% white. A set number of seats would be set aside for non-Black students, and Black students could not fill those spots.

As those changes were implemented, problems at North Division High School continued, Fuller said. 

Fuller said nobody knew he would eventually become a superintendent of MPS. When he took on the role in 1991, he gained access to documents and information nobody thought he would see. 

An assistant superintendent at the time told him that the board had taken actions to sabotage North Division after the coalition won.

“Some of the problems that exist at North today can be traced back to the conscious attempt to sabotage North once we won in court,” Fuller said. “There was such anger on the part of the administration that they had to do this.”

For example, Fuller said the coalition worked with North Division Principal Bob Jasna to set up a program and curriculum for the school, then replaced Jasna with a middle school principal who knew nothing about the work he and Fuller did.

“That sabotaged the entire effort that we had made,” Fuller said.

Today, North Division High School remains predominantly Black — 90.5%, according to the latest state report card. The school scored an overall 54.9 on the report card, meeting few expectations, according to the Wisconsin Department of Education.

“For me, this struggle around North Division has never ended,” Fuller said. “It’s been ongoing for 30, 40 years.”

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.

How Milwaukee residents rallied to save North Division High School from closure during 1970s integration fight 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.

Three cases of measles has been confirmed in Wisconsin in recent weeks, the latest involving an out-of-state traveler who traveled through Milwaukee Mitchell International Airport to Walworth County on Jan. 29. 

Milwaukee Health Commissioner Michael Totoraitis said during a news conference Tuesday that there were six individuals on the flight from the city of Milwaukee who may have been exposed as well as others.

“We have been in communication with those (six) individuals, and there’s also likely other contacts from the airplane that we do not have,” he said.

Measles is a serious disease that can cause high fevers and a spreading rash and lead to life-threatening complications such as pneumonia. 

Lindsey Page, director of immunizations and communicable disease with the Milwaukee Health Department, said measles is highly contagious and the risk of it hitting the city is real. 

Extremely contagious but can be prevented

According to the Wisconsin Department of Health Services, measles can spread from person to person through the air from coughs or sneezes. The department states that measles is so contagious that 90% of unvaccinated people who are around someone who is infected may also be infected.  

Page said the measles, mumps and rubella, or MMR, vaccine is highly effective at preventing the spread of measles. Still, vaccine rates in the city are below the recommended rate for herd immunity. Herd immunity for measles is reached when 95% of people in the community have the MMR vaccine. 

“It certainly poses a threat, which is why we’re obviously emphasizing the vaccination, which is key in preventing disease from spreading before it starts,” Page said. “The measles vaccine is one of the most effective and well-studied vaccines ever used.”

Three-fourths of 6-year-olds in Milwaukee have received both recommended MMR doses, according to the Milwaukee Health Department. Among 18-year-olds in Milwaukee, that number increases to 88%. 

The Milwaukee Health Department and Milwaukee Public Schools are working to get residents access to vaccinations to increase those rates and keep them safe. 

According to the International Vaccine Access Center, childhood vaccination rates in the U.S. have declined, and only 10 states had MMR rates above 95% during the 2024-25 school year.

Vaccination rates low in many Milwaukee schools

Of the 152 Milwaukee public, private and charter schools with available vaccine data, only 11% have reached herd immunity levels of 95% for the MMR vaccine, according to data from the Washington Post. 

Only two Milwaukee Public Schools for which data was available, Highland Community School and Cooper Elementary School, had an MMR vaccination rate of 95%.

Just 7% of Milwaukee schools have a 95% immunization rate for all required vaccinations.

Milwaukee Public Schools notifies families if immunization records are missing or incomplete, and students may be excluded from school if requirements are not met within a reasonable time, said Stephen Davis, MPS media relations manager. 

Students are allowed to attend school while families work to get their required vaccinations or submit a valid exemption as allowed by state law, Davis said. 

Wisconsin DHS allows vaccination exemptions for medical, religious or personal conviction reasons. Davis said exemption requests in the district have fluctuated from year to year.

Page said the Milwaukee Health Department runs vaccine clinics inside select MPS schools at the beginning of the school year. Students take home vaccine consent forms for parents to sign so those students can get their required immunizations in school. 

In the near future, the department will set up targeted clinics in schools with low MMR vaccination rates, Page said.

MPS prepares for potential measles cases

MPS is monitoring measles in the region and maintains regular communication with local and state public health partners, Davis said. 

Davis said the district has an infectious disease response plan, which the district reviews periodically and updates as public health guidance changes. The district last reviewed the plan in 2025. 

“While no increased risk has been identified within our schools at this time, we are remaining vigilant and prepared to respond if conditions change,” Davis said. 

If a case of measles is identified in the city, Davis said MPS would implement its response plan, including coordinating with key staff and reinforcing illness reporting procedures.

“Schools would follow established exclusion, cleaning and notification procedures in accordance with public health guidance,” Davis said.

Where can I get vaccinations?

The Milwaukee Health Department and the Wisconsin Department of Health Services offer several resources to check your vaccination status and access free vaccinations. 

Page said you can check your vaccination status with your pediatrician or doctor, look up your status on the Wisconsin Immunization Registry or contact the city Health Department at 414-286-6800.

Page said the Health Department offers free MMR vaccines to all residents at three immunization clinics regardless of age or insurance status.

These clinics also offer other vaccines, available for free for people without health insurance. Eligibility for certain vaccines depends on factors like age, and some vaccines are not always available.

Check vaccine availability by calling 414-286-8034.

Immunization clinic services in Milwaukee

Keenan Health Center, 3200 N. 36th St.

Open for vaccines on Thursdays from 1 to 4 p.m.

Northwest Health Center, 7630 W. Mill Road

Open for vaccines on Wednesdays from 3 to 6 p.m.

Southside Health Center, 1639 S. 23rd St.

Open for vaccines on Mondays from 3 to 6 p.m. and Tuesdays from 1 to 4 p.m. 

Alex Klaus is the education solutions 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.

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

Measles is in Wisconsin. Are Milwaukee schools vulnerable? 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.

Mellisa Edwards didn’t have a job for a decade as she struggled with drug addiction. 

That changed last March, when she got a job doing packaging and assembly work at Apricity Contract Packaging in Appleton and moved into a nearby residential treatment home. 

Edwards got off to a rocky start. She missed shifts because she didn’t want to get out of bed, leading her supervisors to write her up. But her co-workers helped her rebound. They’re taking on the same challenge of staying sober while showing up to work.

Apricity Contract Packaging is run entirely by people recovering from addiction. Roughly 100 people work at the northeast Wisconsin and Milwaukee locations each year, building sobriety and stable employment records free of the many obstacles found in typical workplaces.

Apricity leaders say they’re catering to workers who employers often overlook. While there’s been a push in recent years to make workplaces more “recovery-friendly,” few organizations nationally strictly employ those in recovery. 

“We offer employment in a safe environment where people aren’t necessarily impacted by some of the judgment and that fear of somebody looking into their history with substance use,” Apricity Contract Packaging President Dan Haak said.

Nowadays, Edwards always shows up to work on time, and she earned a perfect score on her last performance review. She plans to stay at the job for at least another year, until she finishes her probation. 

“I love it here … (Other workers) know what you’re going through, so they can relate very well,” Edwards said. 

Leaders aim for their jobs to be transitional, for workers to build “a foundation of recovery and safer behaviors,” then move into new jobs with more confidence, Haak said. But there’s no limit to how long people can stay, and many stay for years. 

“We try to motivate them as much as we can … to show them they have a career ahead in this and everything else, if they want one,” team leader Andy Geurden said. 

A unique operation

Haak began working at the plant at his counselor’s recommendation in 1998, when the organization was known as STEP Industries. He climbed up the ranks over the years and is now president of the plant. 

“I came out of treatment and didn’t have a driver’s license, didn’t have a car, and had a terrible work history, because when I was using, getting up in the morning was hard,” Haak said.

Many find themselves at Apricity in the same shoes. 

Countless challenges can stand between people recovering from addiction and employment, like rocky work histories, criminal records, a lack of reliable transportation or judgment from employers.

Keeping a job can be just as hard. Someone in recovery might need to work around scheduled drug tests or other legal appointments. They may struggle to avoid situations where substances are present, such as workplace happy hours. Their probation officers might need to meet with their bosses. 

“People don’t necessarily want to open up and discuss all of those things, especially in an interview and say, ‘Oh, I need to leave work early to go take a drug test three days a week,’” Haak said.

Instead, at Apricity, one’s recovery is implied — and understood. That allows employees to focus on getting their lives back on track. 

“I would keep (my recovery) kind of hidden, and that can kind of be a barrier for me not really getting to know people,” said Jason Koehler, who has worked at the plant for two years. “Here, everybody kind of just knows it already. It’s not really even an issue.”

Apricity formed in 2018, when two addiction recovery programs merged. Meaning “the warmth of the sun in winter,” the company’s name is a metaphor for those coming out of a dark period in their lives. 

Efforts to reduce the stigma — including state resources to help employers hire workers in recovery — haven’t erased the challenge of finding work. Apricity remains one of few places in the country focused entirely on workers facing these challenges.

Funded through grants and revenues from its services, Apricity offers two residential treatment facilities, a peer support and recovery coaching program, 24/7 on-call recovery coaches, four sober living homes and, finally, the packaging plant. 

While not a requirement, many plant workers have been through Apricity’s treatment program or stayed in its homes, safe places to land for those who have poor rental histories, eviction records or ongoing legal cases that make it difficult for them to enter a lease.

‘How to be a good employee’

On a late January morning at the Appleton plant, a pair of employees die-cut and packaged pieces of a tissue paper flower craft kit. Another team collapsed tri-fold poster boards and packed piles of them into branded boxes. Lindsey Jackson drove a forklift around the floor, moving stacks of finished packages. 

The hands-on work varies daily. Companies get a 5% tax rebate to hire Apricity for packaging or assembly projects, often because they need extra short-term labor, equipment or space. 

The daily grind at Apricity teaches people “how to be a good employee,” Haak said. 

Employees are held accountable for the basics: clocking in on time, dressing appropriately, properly calling in sick and staying productive. Leaders focus job interviews on the employee’s recovery, rather than their work history. They work around drug court dates, probation obligations or treatment appointments. They organize transportation for those who need it.

“It’s huge for self-esteem. I think people in recovery are struggling with all kinds of stuff from a mental health standpoint,” Haak said. “Being employed gives you a sense of purpose. It gives you a sense of self-worth.”

Not everyone succeeds. Some new hires leave during orientation or soon after they start work. 

“Sometimes people, they start to make up excuses after the first couple of days, and we say, ‘OK, well, what do you want? We aren’t forcing you to be here. It’s up to you. You can leave if you want, you can resign if you want. It’s not gonna hurt our feelings,’” he said. 

Employees who want to stay get support if they fall short or slip up. 

Human resources manager Rachel Hasenzahl creates “relapse prevention plans,” evaluates employees’ performances and helps them move up or toward the jobs they want. Over time, motivated staff can move into leadership roles, earning more, overseeing a crew and learning skills like forklift operation. 

Apricity hopes employees will stay a while, build work history and skills, and eventually move on. About 40% do, often at other local manufacturers, like Plexus Corp., Pierce Manufacturing and Great Northern Corporation.

But with no set end date, some workers stay for years, climbing the ranks. Many higher-ranking staff started in the program and now help others. Some who leave struggle without the robust support for recovery Apricity provides.

Hasenzahl once left to try other jobs, but found it difficult to handle the way alcohol was embedded in workplace culture. She eventually returned to the packaging plant, where she now has a decade under her belt. When she relapsed, as some employees do, Apricity staff helped her back to sobriety. When she wanted to advance, leaders worked around her class schedule so she could study human resources at Fox Valley Technical College. 

Before Apricity, Koehler bounced between jobs and was unemployed for two years. Since he started working at Apricity two years ago, he’s rented his own apartment, saved money and taken on a lead role on the packaging floor. 

“People kind of look to me for questions and (I’m) becoming a leader again, proving to myself that I can do that again,” Koehler said. “People can trust me to do that for them.”

Like Koehler, several employees said the most important thing they’ve gained from the job is confidence. 

“It took a little bit, but I can actually stand the person I see in the mirror when I wake up in the morning now,” Geurden said, “thanks to the staff and everyone having my back.”

Miranda Dunlap reports on pathways to success in northeast Wisconsin, working in partnership with Open Campus. Find her on Instagram and Twitter, or send her an email at mdunlap@wisconsinwatch.org.

Wisconsin Watch is a nonprofit, nonpartisan newsroom. Subscribe to our newsletters for original stories and our Friday news roundup.

Work, recovery and second chances on a Wisconsin manufacturing floor 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.

For many Milwaukee residents returning from incarceration, the difference between stability and setback can hinge on a single document: a valid driver’s license.

Without one, everyday responsibilities can become barriers that undermine a person’s successful return to the community, said Jay Tucker, administrator of community reintegration services at Wisconsin Community Services. 

Tucker helps oversee the organization’s long-running driver’s license recovery program, which helps people get back their licenses after suspensions or revocations. 

Although the program serves a broad range of low-income Milwaukee residents, Tucker said the loss of a driver’s license is especially destabilizing for people returning from incarceration, particularly as they look for work.  

“There’s already a stigma there,” Tucker said. “If I’m already checking a box on an application just to get the job, and now I may not have this valid work credential, it amplifies that stigma.”

Black and poor residents overrepresented

Suspended and revoked driver’s licenses disproportionately affect the city’s Black and low-income residents, said Clarence Johnson, president and CEO of Wisconsin Community Services. 

In Wisconsin, most license suspensions and revocations are not tied to dangerous driving but to unpaid fines and forfeitures. 

According to Wisconsin Department of Transportation data from 2024, failure to pay forfeitures accounted for more than 44% of revocations and suspensions statewide – far more than operating while intoxicated or point-based violations.

For many, that process starts with a single ticket, said Taffie Foster-Toney, lead case manager for the license recovery program.

“You get one citation, you’re not able to pay it and then it snowballs,” Foster-Toney said. 

Breaking a cycle

Shakia Thompson, 33, a Milwaukee resident, mother and student, said the cycle was hard to break.  

“My license was suspended because I had a lot of operating-after-suspension tickets,” Thompson said. “I would get on a payment plan, get my license back and then get another ticket.”

With work and family responsibilities, she said, staying on top of court appearances became difficult.

“With me working a lot, I wasn’t always able to attend court,” Thompson said. “So it just kept keeping me behind, and I kept owing and owing.”

How the program works

The driver’s license recovery program at Wisconsin Community Services began in 2010. 

It serves Milwaukee residents who meet federal poverty guidelines, have a suspended or revoked Wisconsin driver’s license and meet other eligibility guidelines.

Foster-Toney said the process begins with intake and a detailed review of a participant’s driving record.

Individuals are then paired with attorneys through Legal Action of Wisconsin and work case by case to resolve issues across multiple courts and counties. 

Options may include payment plans or community service. 

Thompson said the payment plan option helped her considerably. 

“There were times that I wasn’t able to pay a fine, and then I would get backed up on other bills. So it really helped in the long run,” she said. 

Participants can also attend a financial literacy workshop. In return, the program pays up to $60 in Wisconsin Division of Motor Vehicles fees once an individual is eligible for reinstatement.

Public safety benefits

Johnson said helping people regain licenses benefits the broader community.

“People who have valid driver’s licenses tend to be safer drivers,” he said. “When you have assets in your life, you’re much more inclined to make good judgment decisions. The driver’s license program offers hope. It’s a lifeline.”

Thompson said she shares information about the program widely, especially with people balancing many responsibilities, such as family and work.

“I tell a lot of people about it,” she said. “A lot of ladies in school that don’t have their license.”

After getting her license back last summer, Thompson said she’s focused on keeping it. 

“I’m doing great with my payment plans, and I have my license,” she said. “I’m moving forward.”

How to connect

Wisconsin Community Services receives referrals from courts, parole agents, nonprofit organizations, city agencies, police officers, Milwaukee Area Technical College and the mayor’s office. 

The program is housed at Milwaukee Area Technical College’s downtown campus and accepts walk-ins.

Eligibility requirements are: 

• A suspended or revoked Class D driver’s license
• City of Milwaukee residency
• Income that meets federal poverty guidelines 
• No valid license within the past eight years and completion of the DMV written test within the past 12 months
• No operating-while-intoxicated charges, suspensions or revocations related to operating while intoxicated   

People can contact Wisconsin Community Services at 414-297-6407 for more information.

‘I’m moving forward’: Driver’s license recovery program helps Milwaukee residents regain stability 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 years-long debate over the use of facial recognition software by the Milwaukee Police Department (MPD) came to a head at a contentious Thursday meeting of the city’s Fire and Police Commission (FPC) attended by more than 60 local residents. Over the course of questioning, stretching late into the evening hours, commissioners learned from MPD leadership that the department had continued using facial recognition software, even as a draft policy to put guardrails on the technology was still being developed outside of the FPC’s control. 

By meeting’s end, FPC vice chairwoman Bree Spencer expressed a desire for the commission to consider finding some way to push for a pause to MPD’s use of facial recognition software, though the FPC itself did not take any immediate formal action. Less than 24 hours later, MPD Chief Jeffrey Norman announced that the department would ban the use of facial recognition technology, and discontinue its efforts to acquire permanent access to the technology. 

During the Thursday meeting, Norman and his staff were grilled by FPC commissioners after hours of impassioned public testimony. The sweltering meeting room was packed almost shoulder-to-shoulder, with every seat taken and people standing along the wall in spaces not already taken by the local news station’s bulky cameras. Many others waited in the hallway, as an overflow room had not been set up.

One by one, local residents expressed a variety of grievances about facial recognition. Some decried MPD’s prior use of software without disclosure to the public or FPC, while others expressed fears about how the technology could be used against Milwaukeeans by what many called an authoritarian federal government. 

Paul Smith, a member of the Oneida Nation who serves on Milwaukee’s Equal Rights Commission, was the first to speak. Smith described how his relatives had been among the first to come down from the Oneida reservation to Milwaukee seeking factory work. “We are also people who have to carry two IDs all the time,” said Smith. He suggested that facial recognition and other camera technologies are methods the government uses to track people it considers enemies. 

“I live in fear every day,” said Smith, describing how his heart rate accelerates when he drives out of Milwaukee County. Smith added that facial recognition technology is unreliable.  “My dad can use my phone because his face looks like mine,” he said.  “These cameras don’t work and they punish people, and there’s no presumption of innocence when you’re being watched all the time.”

Nadiyah Johnson, founder and CEO of the Milky Way Tech Hub, highlighted the notoriously high error rates facial recognition software has for people of color. Johnson said that federal tests have shown false positive rates as much as 10 to 100 times higher for Black people. “I’m sure that we all can understand why that would be a problem for the city of Milwaukee,” said Johnson. She added that “guardrails do not fix the core problem.” 

When surveillance infrastructure is created, Johnson said, the scope of who is targeted expands. She and other community members who spoke brought up Flock license plate reader cameras which, like facial recognition, are AI-powered and a top concern for many who attended Thursday night’s FPC meeting. Flock has attracted criticism for being used for vague or unlawful reasons by police, and for leaving some feeds exposed on the open internet. “This is not a future concern, this is already happening nationally,” said Johnson. “The public cannot meaningfully consent to systems we can not see, audit, or challenge.”

Amanda Merkwae, advocacy director for the American Civil Liberties Union of Wisconsin, recounted her attempts to learn more about MPD’s use of facial recognition by filing open records requests. After waiting five months and threatening to sue, the ACLU was sent a response that the MPD does not track requests made for use of facial recognition in individual investigations. When the city’s IT department ran an email search, the term “facial recognition” appeared in 196,688 emails from 2020-2025. 

When the ACLU narrowed the request to 16 cases which MPD cited in presentations to city commissions, they found that “in a handful of those cases” which had been “hand picked” by MPD for those presentations, “the police reports did not mention [Facial Recognition Technology] at all,” Merkwae told the FPC. “In conversations with some defense attorneys, it appears that [Facial Recognition Technology] use was not turned over to the defense in discovery in some cases,” said Merkwae. “In cases where attorneys filed pre-trial motions to get insight into the notoriously racially biased [Facial Recognition Technology] algorithms, they hit a brick wall because that information is proprietary.” 

In its presentations to city officials, MPD had said that facial recognition helped identify suspects in cases including sexual assault and shooting investigations.

Much of the public testimony Thursday focused on the potential for surveillance technologies to harm democracy. Speakers focused on the immigration crackdown in Minnesota, where thousands of people have been arrested and two people killed by federal agents. Videos posted online show immigration agents taking pictures of protesters, legal observers and vehicles, using facial recognition technology to identify detainees, and taunting members of the public by saying their pictures were going to be uploaded to a database of  domestic terrorists. An immigrants’ rights group recently discovered what it describes as a watchlist of immigration attorneys created by ICE.

Taleavia Cole and her husband Caliph Muab-El have experienced police surveillance after protesting the killing of Cole’s brother Alvin. Several of Cole’s family members, their lawyers and dozens of others were placed on a list created by the Wauwatosa Police Department. The list, which also included a Wisconsin Examiner reporter, was shared with numerous state, local, and federal agencies and was also referred to by police as a “target list”.

Muab-El said Black and brown communities have been used as test subjects for surveillance and militarized policing. This is how he views MPD’s deal with the data company Biometrica, which has offered to trade 2.5 million jail and booking photos from Milwaukee for MPD to have access to facial recognition software. 

“We’re talking about people,” said Muab-El. “And when we’re talking about people, we need to focus on the things that are most important for people to thrive in circumstances like this. Everything in our society and our community has been gutted from us almost. The resources are very scarce already…To institute something like this that will exacerbate the circumstances of our already falling and broken-in-pieces communities is definitely an attack on justice on our people.” 

He stressed that “anybody can be misidentified at any time,” and that the city will not be able to prevent federal agencies from accessing the data it collects using facial recognition software. “No one is safe,” said Muab-El. “Bystanders who believe in justice and the cause of people, these people are going to become more vulnerable. These attacks are going to become more prevalent…They’re going to become more intense.”

Cole recounted her own experiences of being placed on the target list, and her belief that even her family’s phone calls were being monitored. “So whose side are you on is the real question, because someday it could be your family member,” she said. “And next thing you know, they want to know what you know, what you’re saying, what you’re doing. Like you’re a criminal, like you’re nobody.” 

Testimony went on for several hours, pausing for a presentation on facial recognition technology from the New York University Law School Policing Project. The presenters said that while facial recognition can assist law enforcement investigations, the technology also carries serious constitutional and civil risks. Whether a city or town uses facial recognition software should be a decision made by the entire community, the presenters said, adding that having guardrails to prevent abuse of the technology is important. 

Late in the meeting, after many people had left, Chief Norman and MPD staff provided an update and took questions from the FPC. Norman said a draft policy his department’s use of facial recognition technology had not yet been finalized, and that he was “slow walking” the process to get as much input as possible. He stressed that facial recognition software is used to develop leads, and cannot be used as the sole basis for establishing probable cause for an arrest. The department had also begun logging uses of facial recognition, but those records only captured uses since 2024. 

Under sharp questioning from FPC Commissioner Krissie Fung the commission learned that MPD had continued using facial recognition technology even as the drafting of a policy was ongoing. Some sort of of a draft policy — described by Fung as a “draft of a draft of a draft” — appeared to have been viewed by at least some members of the city’s common council, but not the FPC. 

Although several commissioners expressed concerns about facial recognition technology and MPD’s deal with Biometrica, the FPC’s power to do anything about it is limited, since the Republican-controlled Legislature had worked to eliminate the FPC’s policy-making powers for the Milwaukee police. The debate over the use of facial recognition software in Milwaukee had gone on since last year, with members of the public speaking against its adoption consistently and in great numbers. Spencer, the FPC’s vice-chairwoman, said that the public shouldn’t have to attend more meetings to say the same things, and that her own trust in the department on the issue had eroded. 

In a statement issued Friday, Heather Hough, Norman’s chief of staff, said the police department understands “the public concern, particularly in light of national circumstances…Despite our belief that this is useful technology…we recognize that public trust is far more valuable.” Hough’s statement continued, “therefore, effective immediately, Chief (Jeffrey) Norman will issue a department directive banning the use of facial recognition for all members.” 

Hough said that MPD will continue work on creating a policy, but will not use facial recognition technology until that process is complete. While MPD appeared to be responding to the public outcry, the Milwaukee Police Association (the department’s union) said in a statement that it was “deeply concerned and disappointed” by the decision to restrict facial recognition technology. The police association was also irked by recent restrictions on vehicle pursuits saying that both policy shifts do not “eliminate crime or danger,” but instead “risks shifting that danger onto Milwaukee residents and the officers sworn to protect them.” 

The union’s statement described facial recognition as “an investigative tool that can assist detectives in generating leads in violent crime cases. It does not replace traditional police work or serve as a basis for arrest without further investigation. When used responsibly and with appropriate safeguards, this technology can help identify violent offenders, support victims, and improve case clearance rates.”

Wearing orange high-visibility vests as they mount TVs, conduct basic car care, assemble furniture and complete other tasks, participants of Handyman Academy are busy at work on Milwaukee’s North Side. 

Program founders Daniel McHenry and AJ Batchelor say learning these skills helps provide structure and mentorship for students with limited support at home. 

Handyman Academy, launched in July 2025, is a youth program that equips students with handyman skills to help them build confidence and independence. 

“Everything that I’m teaching them are things that I know,” McHenry said. “I wanted to create more resources for single mothers so they could keep their children out of trouble and focused.”

Inspiration for the program

McHenry is a self-taught handyman and owner of the moving company Lift N Go Express. He said after a decade of hands-on work, he wanted to shift from physical labor and pass his skills to inner-city teens, especially those in single-parent households.

“So many mothers poured their heart out to me about the struggles in helping their boys,” he said. 

Nearly half of Milwaukee County children are estimated to live in single-parent households as of 2023, according to Federal Reserve Economic Data. 

McHenry was a troubled teen who grew up in Chicago and the North Side of Milwaukee with a single mother. Although she taught him basic skills like how to change a tire, he learned other things on his own after losing his biological father. His stepfather was incarcerated. 

“The skills I teach in this program are skills that a lot of women can’t really teach their boys,” he said. 

McHenry later partnered with Batchelor, owner of AJB Handyman Construction Service LLC and a resident of the Garfield neighborhood. Batchelor was already teaching youths and others handyman skills.

“I typically find people off the street who are in need of money and instead of me giving them money, I show them how they can make it through my business,” Batchelor said. 

Becoming a handyman

Handyman Academy offers winter and summer sessions, with students meeting two to three hours weekly. 

During summer sessions, participants learn outdoor skills like how to change oil or tires on a car. Winter sessions focus on learning how to use different tools, reading instructions to assemble different items and safety. 

To ensure each student is familiar with the tools, McHenry designs worksheets and quizzes for them after each lesson.

“To teach someone how to fix and build something, they need to know what proper tools to use first,” McHenry said. 

Once they complete the program, students are celebrated with a graduation and handed a personal toolkit.

Recent graduates of the program include 15-year-old Naiem Bell and 13-year-old Leiyah McHenry, the daughter of Daniel McHenry.

Bell said he appreciated all the skills he learned, but valued teamwork the most. 

“A lot of the stuff I’ve been taught, I can’t do all of this alone,” Bell said.

Leiyah McHenry enjoyed the practical activities of the program like learning how to change a tire, an experience she never had before. 

“I do think that when I’m older and have my own car, I’ll be able to change my own tire now,” she said. 

Her biggest challenge was learning how to mount a TV. 

“It was hard to mount the TV at first because I’m so short, but my dad was there to help me,” she said. 

After completing the program, Bell assembled a 55-inch TV he received on Christmas. 

“I have more ambition to do things now,” Bell said. 

Apart from building skills, McHenry and Batchelor also mentor the children by engaging in conversations about entertainment, business, leadership and other topics. 

“I had a good mentor at the Boys & Girls Club when I was little and now my mentor has passed,” Batchelor said. 

“Our community needs more Black men like us who will step up,” McHenry said. 

Helping the kids stay on track

Early in the program, Batchelor and McHenry encountered challenges with the participants.

McHenry said some students were initially rebellious and felt forced to attend, but after creating a comfortable environment, many of them opened up more. 

“There was a child who was used to playing video games all day and now he’s active and helps around the house,” McHenry said. 

Batchelor said some mothers rely on him to help keep their children on track. 

During his free time, he offers paid handyman opportunities to students who need additional support. 

“I want these kids to do better because Milwaukee can be a terrible place at times,” Batchelor said. 

McHenry said he spent approximately $5,000 out-of-pocket for each course, but he hopes to turn the program into a nonprofit so that parents won’t have to pay $150 for registration.

Plans to expand

McHenry and Batchelor are looking for a permanent space to hold sessions and expand the program. Previous sessions were held at the Midtown Shopping Center and at 8201 W. Brown Deer Road. 

“We’ve been through two different locations already, but we’re looking for a place to really call home and somewhere to call our own,” McHenry said. “A place that’s convenient for our students, parents and doesn’t have restrictions.” 

McHenry also hopes to collaborate with entrepreneurs, cosmetologists, painters and others to host a workshop highlighting different industries and skills that children can be involved in.  

“Everybody isn’t going to be a handyman, so I have to expose them to different areas,” McHenry said. “I think we all have something to offer to the community that can help the youth out.” 

Leiyah McHenry and Bell appreciate how the program has guided them in a positive direction.

“I think this program is important in Milwaukee because it keeps kids out of the streets and shows them how to be successful,” Leiyah McHenry said. 

“This is really good for people who don’t have father figures around,” Bell said. 

For more information

Youths ages 11 to 17 interested in joining the Handyman Academy can register in April and May for spring and summer sessions by emailing Dmchenry1989@gmail.com or messaging the program on Facebook or Instagram.

‘I want our kids to do better’: Milwaukee handymen teach children life skills while supporting single parents 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.

As children continue to enter foster care across Milwaukee, agencies working the front lines say the greatest need isn’t funding or policy promises, it’s people willing to open their homes. Especially to teenagers.

We spoke with Jakob Eisen, director of social services, and Karen Steinbach, treatment foster care supervisor, with La Causa’s Treatment Foster Care program, to understand what becoming and supporting foster parents can look like. 

Shortage of foster families

Children placed in foster care range from newborns to young adults, sometimes remaining in care until age 21 or older if they are still in school. 

Steinbach said what youths share is trauma because being removed from home, even for safety reasons, is itself traumatic.

“These kids come to us during the worst moments of their lives,” she said. “They need adults who are patient, empathetic and willing to stay even when things get hard.”

Data shows a desperate shortage in Milwaukee of people willing to take in adolescents. 

In 2024, there was an average of 515 children aged 12 years or older in out-of-home care. Of these older children, 275 (53%) were placed in a family-like setting, 146 (28%) were placed in congregate care, and 94 (18%) were in other care.

Ninety percent of children aged 12 and under were placed in family-like care. 

Steinbach said teenagers often cycle through dozens of placements, a history that can fuel mistrust, anger and difficult behaviors.

“There’s a myth that teens are harder or more dangerous,” she said. “But if you’ve been in 30 or 40 homes and every one of them asked you to leave, why would you believe the next one will be different?”

She said behaviors like running away, breaking property, withdrawing emotionally or acting out are often trauma responses, not defiance. And younger children show it, too. 

Foster parents are asked to look past those behaviors. 

“That’s the hardest part of the job,” Steinbach said. “And also the most important.”

What does it take to become a foster parent?

Becoming a foster parent is a serious commitment, and the licensing process reflects that. 

Prospective families must pass background checks, provide references, complete home safety inspections, participate in interviews that explore everything from parenting experience to mental health history, and meet other state requirements.

“It’s personal,” Steinbach said. “We ask hard questions because we’re asking you to care for children who have experienced significant trauma.”

There are different levels of foster care. Treatment foster parents, who care for children with higher behavioral or emotional needs, receive additional training and support. 

Eisen said most foster parents work full-time jobs. What helps them succeed as a foster parent is preparation and support from employers, family, friends and agencies themselves.

“We ask people upfront: Who’s your village?” Steinbach said. “Because no one does this alone.”

Removing stigmas of fostering

Some community members hesitate to engage with foster care because they believe the system “takes” children from families. Eisen said that perception misses critical context.

“No child is removed without legal authority,” he said. “Every case goes before a judge. There are statutory thresholds, multiple layers of review and ongoing court oversight.”

In most cases, he said, parents retain legal rights and decision-making authority. Foster care is intended to be temporary, with reunification as the primary goal whenever it can be done safely.

“We don’t want to keep kids,” Steinbach said.  “The best outcome is getting them home.”

Their goal is to help foster parents work alongside birth families to support them as they complete court-ordered steps.

“When foster parents and birth parents can work together, kids do better,” she said. “And reunification happens faster.”

How you can help, without becoming a foster parent

Not everyone can foster, but Steinbach and Eisen stress that everyone can help.

Support can be as simple as providing respite care or babysitting, helping with school pickups or transportation, bringing meals or offering child care so foster parents can attend training. 

“These small things are huge,” Steinbach said. “Sometimes a foster parent just needs an hour to grocery shop or take a shower.”

Community members can also help by challenging stigmas when they hear them, sharing accurate information and encouraging others to consider fostering.

“Even planting the seed matters. Most people think about fostering for years before they ever make the call,” Eisen said.

Prevention and support

While foster care agencies work daily to recruit and support families, leaders say long-term solutions lie in prevention. Investing in mental health care, addiction services, transportation, supervised visitation and family support can help keep children safely at home.

“If we could work ourselves out of a job, we would,” Eisen said. “But until then, we need people, not perfect people, just people willing to show up.”

For children in foster care, that willingness to “show up” can mean the difference between another disrupted placement and the first adult who truly stays in their lives.
For more information on becoming a foster parent, you can look here and here.

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

‘No one does this alone’: Milwaukee seeks more foster parents and supporters 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.

The limited availability of Black male mentors in Milwaukee is causing youth organizations to rethink their efforts and reveals a deeper challenge within families and communities. 

The lack of mentors forced Andre Lee Ellis to postpone his annual “500 Black Tuxedos” event. 

500 Black Tuxedos typically consists of 250 men stepping up to mentor 250 young men ages 12 to 17 throughout the day with workshops that bring attention to violence, anger management, artificial intelligence, men’s health, incarceration and other topics. 

So far, Ellis has 200 boys but only 78 male mentors registered. 

“It’s always been challenging to get the men to participate, and one of the things we lack in our community is the inclusion of Black men and fathers in the lives of our children,” Ellis said.

Committing to mentorship

Rather than calling it a “shortage of male mentors,” LaNelle Ramey, executive director of Mentor Greater Milwaukee, said it’s about capacity. He said many men are already mentors in informal ways like coaching or helping at a church. 

“We aren’t getting people to sign up for mentoring the way that we want to, but we’re seeing different ways people are trying to tap in and be supportive,” Ramey said. 

The challenge of finding male mentors has also been a challenge for other organizations, including 100 Black Men of Milwaukee Inc., which partners with Big Brothers Big Sisters of Metro Milwaukee to do monthly group mentoring sessions with youths.

According to Christopher Smitherman ll, vice president of 100 Black Men of Milwaukee Inc., the organization recruits male mentors but can only accept a limited number of boys to maintain mentor-to-youth ratios and consistent presence. 

Smitherman and Ramey said that men are backing down from mentoring because of their misconception of it being a huge time commitment. 

“You have to change that narrative on how long it takes to make a difference,” Smitherman said. 

Ramey said Mentor Greater Milwaukee reminds individuals that spending an hour and a half with a young person for six months still impacts a mentee’s life. 

Inactive fathers affecting the recruitment process

Ellis said he believes recruiting men is harder due to a lack of active fathers to serve as mentors. 

“Certain systems make it hard for men to be involved in the lives of children,” Ellis said. “But when you really want to be a dad, nothing can stop you.” 

According to the Wisconsin Family Council, 85% of babies born in Milwaukee are raised by single mothers. 

While men’s experiences with their own fathers can shape how they show up as dads or mentors, Ellis believes that youths can benefit from adults who use their lived experiences to guide them. 

“Some of the men don’t want to be the dad they never had, but they want to be better,” Ellis said. “Our children need to see us fighting for them.”

Retaining male mentors

Ellis, Ramey and Smitherman agreed that better outreach and information about mentoring can help prevent men from overthinking and feel more confident about stepping into the role. 

“We have to make sure that men and fathers have the resources they need,” Ellis said.

Smitherman said other ways to retain male mentors include offering consistent formal training. 

At Big Brothers Big Sisters of Metro Milwaukee, mentors learn how to lead with empathy, being accessible for mentees, understanding a mentee’s situation and other topics, he said.

Feeling hopeful about mentorship

As organizations across Milwaukee continue to actively recruit mentors, the advocates hope that men can give as much as they can toward the youths. 

“Mentorship is about experience, knowledge and what you have that can help elevate someone,” Smitherman said. “It also doesn’t have to be a huge age gap either.”

For men interested in serving as a mentor for the 500 Black Tuxedos event, it’s rescheduled to Saturday, Feb. 21, from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. at 100 Gems Plaza, 6737 N. Teutonia Ave. A registration fee of $125 will cover the tuxedo for the young man you’ll mentor. Click here to register and for more information.

Click here or here to learn more about mentorship opportunities for men in Milwaukee.

‘Our children need to see us fighting for them’: More Black male mentors in Milwaukee sought 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.

After they’ve tried church, therapy, self-help and meditation, and never quite found what they were looking for, people in Milwaukee come to see Angela Smith.

Smith is the owner and operator of The Zen Dragonfly. She uses African traditional methods to assist people in their physical, mental and spiritual healing. 

“I’m the person nobody knows they came to see,” she said. “People get to a point where nothing is working. And then they walk in here.”

Spiritual and life coaching

Smith, 63, is a hoodoo practitioner and rootworker, though most Milwaukeeans first meet her through “acceptable” titles like Reiki master, yoga instructor or life coach, she said. 

Smith’s healing work spans Reiki, tarot, bone readings, spiritual baths, shamanic journeying and herbal medicine.

Only later do many discover the deeper tradition behind her work.

Her healing practice, rooted in Black Southern folk traditions and ancestral veneration, welcomes anyone in need of help. 

Smith doesn’t promise miracles. And she doesn’t advertise cures.

“My job is to help people do their own healing,” she said. “I can break something open. I can clear a path. But you have to walk it.”

Still, people continue to arrive at her door, quietly and urgently, after prayer, therapy and everything in between.

“When you’ve tried all you can,” Smith said, “I’m usually where you come next.”

Tanisha Williams, a friend and healing guest of Smith’s, said Smith is talented in many ways but especially at helping people find what type of healing can help them. 

“She just knows how to appropriately assess someone and guide them with appropriate divination,” Williams said.

A lifestyle

For Smith, healing is more than work, it’s how she lives her life. 

Smith’s day begins with tending to her ancestors. She rings a bell, pours water, lights candles and reads Psalms. Then she welcomes healing guests.

“Never clients,” she said. 

Her home and workspace reflect her practice: altars in every room, artwork celebrating Black history and spirituality, herbs and botanicals curated with care. Friends and students have encouraged her to turn it into a visual book. 

She’s considering it.

She laughs when asked about the aesthetics: “I want you to walk into my house and know an African lives here.”

Matthew Nervig, a friend of Smith’s, said she guides others to be the same way so that they aren’t dependent on her. 

“She encourages everyone to pursue their own education and personal practice,” he said. “As opposed to keeping people dependent on her so that she can make money, she urges people to learn on their own and be really helpful and genuine. 

Serving Milwaukee

Smith said she did not intend to become Milwaukee’s spiritual triage center. 

For years, she hid her hoodoo practice, posting only glimpses of altars or crystals. But in 2018, she said she heard her grandmother’s voice say: “You can’t hide no more.”

Her public announcement cost her followers, but brought the people who needed her most.

“Word of mouth built this,” she said. “I don’t advertise. People come because someone told them, ‘When nothing else works, go see Miss Angela.’”

Nervig said Smith thrives at making people feel welcome once they find her. 

“She has a real desire for everyone interested in learning more to have the knowledge,” he said. 

Over the years, Smith has seen the city’s quiet desperation up close.

“There’s a lot of fear in Milwaukee,” she said. “A lot of being stuck. A lot of repeating cycles. And people don’t know where to go when the usual systems don’t fix it.”

Her School of Good JuJu launched during the pandemic and filled immediately. Smith said nearly all the students had the same story. They left church. They tried therapy. They tried being “fine.” And they were still searching.

Williams, who attended the School of Good JuJu, said it felt like a “meant to be” moment. 

“We all need a guide,” Williams said. “It’s like how they say, when the student is ready, the teacher appears.”

Smith believes the surge of seekers reflects a deeper shift.

“People are exhausted,” she said. “They’re tired of judgment. They’re tired of being told what to believe. They just want to heal.”

Her space offers something Milwaukee’s more formal institutions often can’t: privacy, acceptance, cultural understanding and spiritual agency.

“There’s magic here every day,” she said simply. “People feel that.”

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

How ‘Miss Angela’ became Milwaukee’s spiritual triage center 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.

Sasha Druzhyna knows all about transplants. 

As an anesthesiologist and perfusionist in Kyiv, Ukraine, Sasha used specialized equipment to keep patients’ blood pumping during heart transplants and keep donor organs alive until they reached their recipients. 

Now, after fleeing Russia’s full-scale invasion, the 52-year-old is learning his profession all over again as a student in Milwaukee School of Engineering’s medical perfusion program. 

Eighty miles away, his wife Anna Mykhailova, 42, is starting over, too. In 2024, she started a job as a cardiac sonographer at a Madison hospital, using skills she refined as a cardiologist in one of Ukraine’s top heart hospitals. She’s also studying for the medical board exams in hopes of one day practicing medicine in the United States. 

But as they work to rebuild their careers, they still don’t know if they’ll be allowed to stay.  

“It’s so stressful because of this immigration process. I will do these really hard exams and they (might) say, ‘Oh, you have to leave this country,’” Anna said of the family’s immigration limbo.

Wisconsin needs more medical professionals, including physicians. But as the couple’s experience shows, those who arrive in the country with foreign training face hurdles that can keep them from filling that gap.

A new life begins

Had the couple fled to Europe instead, their career paths might have been simpler. Sasha might be the teacher instead of the student. Anna might still be a doctor.

But the invasion left no time to deliberate. Anna and her colleagues moved their patients to the hospital’s basement, then brought their own families to shelter there, too. Anna and Sasha brought their daughter, Varya, who was 6 years old at the time. 

They listened to the news as Russian troops occupied the suburbs around Kyiv.  

“When they showed civilian kids killed by Russians … I realized that nobody will protect us and (we) just have to go,” Anna said. 

A friend with military connections warned that Ukrainian forces would soon blow up Ukraine’s own bridges to stop Russian troops from taking more ground. 

“They told us, if you want to leave, you have to leave right now,” Anna said. Sasha drove his wife and daughter west, past sirens and explosions, toward the border with Poland. 

A week later, Anna and Varya were on a plane to Boston, where Anna had a friend from medical school. Arriving with tourist visas, she thought they’d be away for just a few weeks. Sasha, who didn’t speak English, opted to stay.

“Coming here, starting from zero, no money, no nothing, no job — he didn’t want to come and wash floors in a supermarket … It’s really difficult to immigrate when you already had something in your home country,” Anna said. 

He kept working in the hospital, caring for his usual patients and the war-wounded. They figured the fighting would end soon. 

But about a year later, Sasha joined his family in Madison, where friends helped them get settled. 

“We realized that this war is going to be forever,” Anna said. “I don’t believe that they will stop it.”

The three are among more than 100,000 Ukrainians who’ve been granted Temporary Protected Status, or TPS, because the federal government deems it unsafe to return. The status allows them to live and work in the United States for renewable 18-month stretches.

Almost four years later, they’re still here — and hoping to stay. The war rages on, and they’ve embraced their new home. Varya, 10, now speaks mostly English.

“She doesn’t want to speak Ukrainian anymore,” Anna said in an interview at her Madison apartment building in September. “So for her to go back to school in Ukraine … it’s possible, but it’s going to be really difficult.”

But staying isn’t easy either. Restarting their careers has come with significant personal and financial costs, and there’s no guarantee their efforts will pay off.

Covert cardiologist

Until recently, all foreign-trained physicians seeking to practice medicine in Wisconsin had to pass three licensing board exams — offered only in English — then compete against recent medical school graduates for a three-year residency at a U.S. hospital.  

To Anna, the process seemed daunting. The tests cost around $1,000 each — not counting textbooks and study materials — and she was still taking classes to improve her English. She heard that hospitals preferred recent graduates, and she feared they’d be particularly reluctant to accept someone whose immigration status expires every 18 months.

Meanwhile, she and her husband struggled to find a place to live. The prestige they commanded back home was irrelevant to U.S. landlords running background checks. 

“Could you imagine? I’m in my 40s. I don’t have any credit score … I just got my work permit. I couldn’t find a job,” Anna said. “Nobody wants me. They don’t know who I am (or) what is our culture; everybody’s afraid of us.”

She began applying for research jobs at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.

 “I don’t know how many interviews I had,” Anna said. “Everybody was so nice, but (they said), ‘You are overqualified for this job.’”

Then the mom of one of her daughter’s soccer teammates mentioned that her employer, SSM Health St. Mary’s Hospital, was hiring student sonographers. She encouraged Anna to apply.

The roles are designed for people currently studying medical sonography, but Anna already had the relevant training: Ukrainian doctors regularly do their own sonography. She applied for the job with help from teachers at the Madison nonprofit Literacy Network, where she’d been taking classes to improve her English and prepare for next steps in school or work.

She started the job in 2024, running ultrasounds to aid in medical procedures and to diagnose things like heart attacks, heart murmurs, strokes and birth defects. She was promoted to a full-time position soon after. 

On a typical day, she might see half a dozen patients. She doesn’t tell them she’s a doctor. 

“Nobody knows,” Anna said. 

Some patients get rude when they hear her accent. “I had a couple patients, they told me, ‘Don’t touch me. Call somebody else. I don’t trust you,’” she said.

Once a hospital security officer heard the way a patient spoke to her and urged her to file a report. The hospital sent a letter threatening to deny care if the patient acted that way again. 

“I have a really good experience working here,” Anna said. “I really like my job right now.”

In October, Wisconsin eased requirements for foreign-trained doctors, joining several other physician-strapped states that have recently made such changes, but Anna isn’t sure what the change means for her.

Under the new rules, qualifying foreign-trained physicians can work under the supervision of another physician without repeating residency training if they’ve passed U.S. board exams and have a Wisconsin job offer. 

Anna heard the news from a friend and asked about it at work. 

“I showed this bill to people in the medical field here, and they were just like, ‘Oh, we don’t know,’” Anna said. “So I don’t know how does it work here, or where to go and who to ask.”

It’s also not clear she’d qualify. The new rules require applicants to have practiced medicine in their home country for at least one year in the last five years. She left her job nearly four years ago, and she figures it will likely be a couple years before she passes the board exams. 

Lately, she’s been reading up on the licensing rules in other states and contemplating a move after her husband finishes school.

She wonders if things might have been easier if the family had immigrated to Poland, say, or Italy, instead of the United States. Back in Ukraine, her husband ran a perfusion school certified by the European Board of Cardiovascular Perfusion, and he received his own training in Europe. But she doesn’t think it’s worth emigrating again.

“It doesn’t matter where you go, everything is going to be different,” Anna said. “If I go to Europe, I have to start over. I have to study a new language, and then all of the education and activities for our daughter, and she also has to study a new language. So I just don’t want to do it a second time. I don’t have the energy to do it.”

From professor to pupil

Sasha, meanwhile, decided not to try to become a doctor again. His top priority was perfusion, the field to which he dedicated two doctoral dissertations and decades of work. In the United States, perfusionists don’t need to be doctors, but they do need specialized training.  

“The perfusion specialty board, they do not recognize European diplomas,” Anna said. “They want them to go back to school here. But he’s happy to do it. He was so happy that they admitted him.”

Last fall, he started the two-year master’s degree program at MSOE. 

“This wasn’t about choosing an easier path. Perfusion is a highly specialized and demanding field … This is where my experience is most relevant,” Sasha said, “and it’s work I genuinely value.”

Anna teases him about being so much older than the other students in the program. 

“He’s like a father for all his classmates,” Anna said. “The first day, he brought actual paper, a notebook with different colored pens. His classmates brought just iPads. They were like, ‘What is that? Are you a dinosaur?’”

Paying for tuition for the first semester took most of the couple’s savings, Anna said. Their immigration status makes them ineligible for federal student loans.

She’s not sure how they’ll cover the remaining costs. 

Sasha was also accepted to the perfusion school at ​​State University of New York Upstate Medical University, which offered him a job that would have offset his tuition costs, but he didn’t want to uproot his family again. 

“My daughter would need to change her school, leave her friends,” Sasha said. “You know how important it is for a girl of 10 years, your friends? It’s the most important thing in your life.”

But being in school has meant far less time with her. Since September, Sasha has spent his weekdays in Milwaukee, attending classes and shadowing other perfusionists during surgery. When he’s not in the operating room, he spends the night in a spare room he rents from a friend. 

Back in Madison, Anna is “basically a single mom” five days a week. On Fridays, Sasha drives home to see his family and work on a transplant team at UW Health, where he uses perfusion techniques to keep donated organs alive and healthy until they’re transplanted.

With luck, he’ll move back to Madison after he finishes his coursework in May. He’s hoping to do his second-year rotations at Madison hospitals.

Status: Pending

Back in Kyiv, the couple’s condo stands vacant, full of the things Anna left behind when she packed hurriedly for a few weeks away. 

The high-rise penthouse, located beside the many bridges on Kyiv’s east side, boasts an impressive view of the city and the river — and Russian missile strikes. The couple can’t sell it, or go back, until the war ends. 

“Nobody wants to live on the 27th floor when you don’t have electricity, elevator or water, and you can see rockets and jets in front of your eyes,” Anna said.

Meanwhile, despite the time and money the two doctors have invested in their new lives, their future in the United States is uncertain.

The family’s Temporary Protected Status expired in April, and they still haven’t received an answer on the renewal application they submitted a year ago. 

“The Homeland Security office said that our work permits are still valid (while) we are waiting for their decision,” Anna said. “We’re just waiting to see.” 

If their application is approved, they could be on the hook for thousands of dollars. The Department of Homeland Security announced in October that Ukrainians’ applications, including those already waiting to be processed, will be subject to a new fee of $1,000 per person.

Anna has been looking into other visa options, too. Many foreign doctors practice in the United States on H1-B visas, an employer-sponsored visa for workers with specialized skills. If Sasha can eventually get one of those visas as a perfusionist, Anna will get a work permit, too. But in September, the Trump administration announced a $100,000 fee on most new H1-B visas, raising concerns that employers — including hospitals — will cut back on those visas.

Even if the family is able to renew their status, it will end in October unless the Department of Homeland Security extends Ukraine’s TPS designation. Since President Donald Trump took office last year, his administration ended TPS for immigrants from 10 countries, revoking legal status for more than 1.6 million immigrants, NPR found. 

Anna worries that she and her family could become targets for deportation before they ever get a decision on their application. 

“I don’t feel safe,” Anna said. “When you are waiting, you are legally in the United States, but this new administration and ICE police, they think that you are illegal here.” 

Still, she said, she and Sasha try to stay positive.

“My husband says this is a good opportunity. He feels so young because he is studying as a student, and he says it’s just an adventure,” Anna said. 

She looks for the bright side, too. She points to the support and kindness Americans have shown her and the fact that she’s learned she can survive “without anything.”

“I feel like a homeless person. I feel like Ukraine is not my home anymore, and the United States is not my home yet,” Anna said, “but people are trying to make it feel like home.”

Natalie Yahr reports on pathways to success statewide for Wisconsin Watch, working in partnership with Open Campus. Email her at nyahr@wisconsinwatch.org. 

The transplants: 2 doctors fled Ukraine for Wisconsin. They’re still trying to get their careers back. 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 a small church off East Oklahoma Avenue, impassioned singing, steady drum beats and the smell of incense emanate from its front doors. 

Brothers Isiah and Avery Nahwahquaw co-founded RedNationBoyz, a powwow drum circle, in 2024. They host their practices at Lutheran Church of the Great Spirit, 3127 S. Howell Ave., during the Milwaukee Intertribal Circle’s crafting Wednesdays. All funding for the RedNationBoyz comes directly out of the Nahwahquaw brothers’ own pockets.

The Nahwahquaw brothers formed the group to connect Indigenous boys, ranging in age from 10 to 20, in Milwaukee to their roots.

The president of the Milwaukee Intertribal Circle, Deanna Porter, invited the Nahwahquaw brothers to join the group for Wednesday nights in their space at the church. The Milwaukee Intertribal Circle, or MIC, is a group dedicated to revitalizing the intertribal community of Milwaukee.

Porter, a member of the White Earth Nation Ojibwe Anishinaabe, remembers when the United Indians of Milwaukee was a central hub for the Native American community in Milwaukee. With the newly formed Milwaukee Intertribal Council, she hopes to emulate their impact. 

“We’re working to reproduce that, to be serving any Native person within the city of Milwaukee or surrounding area,” Porter said. “And it doesn’t matter your tribe, we will serve enrolled members and their descendants. We welcome anybody.”

The drum circle has expanded quickly from a few members to more than a dozen. The group is an intertribal drum circle, meaning anyone descended from any tribe can join. Members come from Ojibwe tribes, the Menominee Indian Tribe of Wisconsin and Oneida and Ho-Chunk nations. 

The RedNationBoyz have performed at several community events, including the Heart of Canal Street event at Potawatomi Casino Hotel.

The name “RedNationBoyz” comes from Avery and Isiah Nahwahquaw’s original drum group from their school days. When Isiah was 14, he was given a big drum from his mentor, and the brothers decided to form a drum circle with their friends. After finishing school, though, life got busy and the group stopped performing together.

Several years later, Isiah was offered a job at Indian Community School in Franklin where he worked as a youth drum instructor. Here, Isiah and his students connected. That relationship inspired him to bring back the name “RedNationBoyz” for this group.

“It was initially a job that turned to a bond and, you know, once you develop the bond, it’s hard to break,” he said. “And when I started being an instructor for these boys, I had to use the name again, because it was technically a family name to us, and we look at them as family.”

“So, that drum right there means a lot. That’s a spirit right there in that drum. It brings us all together, it brings a whole community together,” Avery Nahwahquaw says. 

By joining the drum circle, not only does a member get to learn about their Indigenous roots and play and sing traditional music, they also join a brotherhood. 

“I would describe the RedNationBoyz like family. These young men become like our nephews,” said Avery. “Not only is it singing, but it’s me finding out if you’re doing good in school, or if you got anything else you need help with in life outside of this drum circle.”

The Milwaukee Intertribal Circle hosts a crafting event on Wednesdays when members from the Native American community can come and be immersed in their culture.

The Nahwahquaw brothers spoke of the importance of creating a space where Indigenous boys could come together to be with people of their culture. 

“Our practices are one night a week where they can escape from wherever they’re from, whatever they’re going through, and they can find their culture in this urban area,” said Avery.

Ask the boys why they keep showing up each Wednesday, and the answers point to the deeper pull of the drum.

Jared Dashner notes that even his Native name, “Little Singing Boy,” ties him to the circle.

“I love singing. I love all these Wednesday nights with everybody, and getting these teachings from our mentor, Isiah.  I ain’t gonna never stop coming,” Ethan Shomin said. 

Their commitment underscores the role RedNationBoyz plays for Indigenous youth seeking connection and community.

“We don’t want it to end. We don’t want like five years from now, they’re like, ‘Hey, remember that one guy we used to sing with on Wednesday nights?’ No, we want this to be for life,” said Avery.

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

RedNationBoyz: Powwow drum circle inspires Indigenous youths 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.

Youth motorsport riders of the Sliders Flat Track Racing Program have spent countless hours in recent months learning how to ride dirt and electric bikes and build motorcycles while gaining personal development. 

The Milwaukee youths are preparing for Flat Out Friday, an international motorcycle race that will take place at Fiserv Forum on Feb. 21. The race features over 300 riders of all skill levels.

The Sliders Flat Track Racing Program gives underrepresented youths in Milwaukee free access to electric and dirt bikes, and eventually motorcycles, while introducing them to science, technology, engineering and math, or STEM, components. 

“Motorsports is not something that people of color typically participate in and sometimes we’re the only people of color there when we race,” said Venisha Simpson, founder of the Sliders Flat Track Racing Program.  

Lately, Simpson and co-founder Tiger Mabato have been coaching the riders inside the Boys & Girls Club and on a dirt road in Sheboygan County for Flat Out Friday.

“I love this sport because it’s intergenerational and you’ll find people between 4 to 84 racing on the same track,” Simpson said. “The respect level is low between the young and old in the Black community, so with this event and program we’re absorbing from each other.” 

A young engineer on the track

One of the riders in the program is Tiger Mabato’s 11-year-old son Noah. 

His interest in motorbikes started when he was 6 and he complained about the condition of a junkyard dirt bike his dad gifted him. 

By 7, his dad gave him the opportunity to take the dirt bike apart and rebuild it on his own. 

“Engineering and building things is fun to me, but I have to learn to do this on my own without any help,” Noah said. 

After rebuilding the dirt bike, he crashed into a tree, leaving him hesitant about the sport and even joining the program. 

Noah regained interest after seeing another kid from the program race on a dirt bike.

“I crash often when practicing and racing, but now I know what to do,” Noah said. 

Currently, Noah is building a Suzuki RM 85cc dirt bike for his third Flat Out Friday competition.

“This will become my official bike because my last bike was causing me to lose pretty badly,” he said. 

He placed ninth last year in the open youth class after falling and crashing his bike, but this year wants to come back stronger.

“It took me a while to get back up last year, but I’m more excited about trying it again,” he said.  

According to Tiger Mabato and Simpson, Noah Mabato and Donald Amartey are the only Black youth racers who ride vintage Harley-Davidson bikes in Milwaukee. 

“Noah and Donald are making history right now,” Tiger Mabato said.

Adjusting quickly

Justice Osei, 9, is a second-year rider in the Sliders Flat Track Racing Program. 

He started without knowing how to ride a regular bike but caught on quickly. 

“They taught him that day in just a couple hours how to ride one,” his mom, Malaika Osei, said. 

Justice wasn’t drawn into traditional sports or video gaming, but with motorsports found a connection to the people and skills he learned. 

“When I’m racing and sometimes make a mistake, I try to lock in and stay focused after it,” he said. 

Tiger Mabato is amazed to see kids like Justice latch onto the sport.

“These kids go through so many ups, downs and tears, it’s crazy how quickly they adapted to everything,” Mabato said. “This is a different level of excitement.”

Prioritizing safety

Before getting on a motorbike, every rider and parent is made aware of how dangerous the sport can be. 

“The hardest thing is seeing your kid crash and tumble at times, but we prepare them for that, and our biggest thing is safety,” Mabato said. 

To ensure safety, the program provides students with motorbikes, helmets, gloves, padding and vests. Parents are responsible for purchasing jeans, long-sleeve shirts and racing boots.

“It’s dangerous, but it’s fun,” Justice said.

Justice broke three toes during a practice from not wearing the proper racing boots. 

His mom saw him take a tumble that day on the dirt road.

“I took off running once I saw him crying and grabbing his foot,” Malaika Osei said. 

Justice didn’t even realize at first that his toes were broken. 

“I didn’t even know until a week later,” he said. 

After purchasing a new pair of boots, Justice was ready to ride again.

Building other skills

Motorsports is more than just racing and maintenance.

Flat Out Friday co-founder Jeremy Prach wants riders to know the sport is about developing skills that keep you improving. 

“I think the thing that hurts the most is your pride when you fall because many think they’re going to do awesome in a race,” Prach said. “But without a skill base, it’ll be hard to do awesome.”

At the Sliders Flat Track Racing Program, Simpson and Tiger Mabato teach the riders confidence, self-regulation, quick problem solving and self-respect. 

“These kids are tough and it takes a different type of mentality to race with these bikes,” Mabato said. 

Simpson and Mabato also teach the youth riders how to network and maintain relationships with people like Cameron Smith, one of the few professional Black racers in the country.

It takes a community

To ensure the program has everything it needs, places like Cream City Moto, STACYC, Southeast Sales, Proplate and other local organizations pitch in to donate equipment, design graphics, cover fees for events and more. 

The program also received grants from the Greater Milwaukee Foundation and Comoto Cares. 

“The race community is very supportive and I love that,” Simpson said. 

Tiger Mabato encourages parents to get their children involved in things that spark their interest even if it’s scary and wants them to know that the race part of the program is optional.

“There’s no better feeling than seeing your kid go around the track,” he said. 

For more information

If you are interested in becoming a part of the program, click here to register and join the waitlist for spring.

To watch, support and cheer the youth riders on at Flat Out Friday, tickets start at $28. 

‘It’s dangerous, but it’s fun’: Program connects Milwaukee youth with motorsports and engineering 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.

This story was originally published by ProPublica.

Craig Stingley had no legal training, no big-name lawyer or civil rights advocate by his side. Yet for 13 years, he refused to accept that the judicial system would hold no one responsible for the killing of his 16-year-old son, Corey.

The quest for justice dominated his life. 

He gathered police reports, witness statements and other evidence in the Dec. 14, 2012, fatal incident inside a Milwaukee-area convenience store. The youth had tried to shoplift $12 worth of flavored malt beverages at the shop before abandoning the items and turning to leave. That’s when three men wrestled him to the ground to hold him for the police. 

The medical examiner determined that he died of a brain injury from asphyxiation after a “violent struggle with multiple individuals.” The manner of death: homicide. 

When prosecutors chose not to charge anyone, Stingley waged a legal campaign of his own that forced the case to be reexamined. A 2023 ProPublica investigation pieced together a detailed timeline of what happened inside the store, recounted what witnesses saw and examined the backgrounds of the three customers involved in the altercation.

Finally, this week, in an extraordinary turn of events, Stingley will see a measure of accountability. On Monday, a criminal complaint filed in Milwaukee County Circuit Court charged the surviving patrons — Robert W. Beringer and Jesse R. Cole — with felony murder. The defendants were set to appear in court on Thursday. 

Beringer’s attorney, Tony Cotton, described the broad outlines of a deferred prosecution agreement that can lead to the charges being dismissed after the two men plead guilty or no contest. The men may be required by the court to make a contribution to a charity in honor of Corey Stingley and to perform community service, avoiding prison time, according to Cotton and Craig Stingley.

In Wisconsin, felony murder is a special category for incidents in which the commission of a serious crime — in this case, false imprisonment — causes the death of another person. The prosecutor’s office in Dane County, which is handling the matter, declined to comment. Cole’s attorney said his client had no comment. Previously, the three men have argued that their actions were justified, citing self-defense and their need to respond to an emergency. 

For Stingley, a key part of the accountability process already has taken place. Last year, as part of a restorative justice program and under the supervision of a retired judge, Stingley and the two men interacted face to face in separate meetings.

There, inside an office on a Milwaukee college campus, they confronted the traumatic events that led to Corey Stingley’s death and the still-roiling feelings of resentment, sorrow and pain. 

Craig Stingley said he felt that, after years of downplaying their role, the men showed regret and a deeper understanding of what had happened. For instance, Stingley said, he and Cole aired out their different perspectives on what occurred and even reviewed store surveillance video together. 

“I have never been able to breathe as clearly and as deeply and feel as free as I have after that meeting was over,” Stingley said. 

Restorative justice programs bring together survivors and offenders — via meetings or letters or through community panels — to try to deepen understanding, promote healing and discuss how best to make amends for a wide range of harms. The approach has been used by schools and juvenile and criminal justice systems, as well as nations grappling with large-scale atrocities.

Situations where restorative justice and deferred prosecution are employed for such serious charges are rare, Cotton said. But, he said, the whole case is rare — from the prosecution declining to issue charges initially to holding it open for multiple reviews over a decade. 

“Our hearts go out to the Stingley family, and we believe that the restorative justice process has allowed all sides to express their feelings openly,” Cotton said. “We are glad that a fair and just outcome has been achieved.”

The legal quest

Milwaukee’s district attorney at the time of Corey Stingley’s death, John Chisholm, announced there would be no charges 13 months later, in January 2014. Cole, Beringer and a third man, Maurio Laumann, now deceased, were not culpable because they did not intend to injure or kill the teen and weren’t trained in proper restraint techniques, Chisholm determined. 

Craig Stingley, who is Black, and others in the community protested the decision, claiming the three men — all white — were not good Samaritans but had acted violently to kill a Black youth with impunity. “When a person loses his life at the hands of others, it would seem that a ‘chargeable’ offense has occurred,” the Milwaukee branch of the NAACP said in a statement at the time.

Looking for a way to reopen the case, Stingley reexamined the evidence, including security video. In a painful exercise, he watched the takedown of his son, by his estimation hundreds of times, analyzing who did what, frame by frame. What he saw only reinforced his view that his son’s death was unnecessary and his right to due process denied.

Corey Stingley and his father lived only blocks from VJ’s Food Mart, in West Allis, Wisconsin. That December day, Stingley made his way to the back of the store and stuck six bottles of Smirnoff Ice into his backpack. At the front counter, the teenager provided his debit card to pay for an energy drink, but the clerk demanded the stolen items. Stingley surrendered the backpack, reached toward the cash register to recover his debit card, then turned to exit.

Cole told police he extended his hand to stop Stingley and claimed that the teen punched him in the face, though it is not evident on the video. The three men grabbed the youth. During a struggle, the men pinned Stingley to the floor. 

Laumann kept Stingley in a chokehold, several witnesses told investigators. ProPublica later discovered that Laumann had been a Marine. His brother told ProPublica he likely learned how to apply chokeholds as part of his military service decades ago. 

Beringer had Stingley by the hair and was pressing on the teen’s head, a witness told authorities. Cole helped to hold Stingley down. Eventually, Stingley stopped resisting. The police report states that Cole thought the teen was “playing limp” to trick them into loosening their grip.

“Get up, you punk!” Laumann told the motionless teen when an officer finally arrived, according to a police report. Stingley was foaming at the mouth and had urinated through his clothes. The officer couldn’t find a pulse. Stingley never regained consciousness, dying at a hospital two weeks later.

Craig Stingley unsuccessfully sought a meeting with Chisholm in 2015 to discuss the lack of charges. “Feel free to seek legal advice in the private sector regarding your Constitutional Rights,” an assistant to Chisholm replied to Stingley in an email. “I extend my deepest sympathy to you and your family!”

Stingley’s review of the video, however, did bring about another legal opportunity in 2017, after he notified West Allis police that there was footage showing Laumann with his arm around the teen’s throat. (Laumann had denied putting him in a headlock.) A Racine County district attorney was appointed to review the evidence again. She issued no report for three years, until pressed by the court, then concluded that no charges were warranted. 

Finally, Stingley discovered an obscure Wisconsin “John Doe” statute. It allows private citizens to petition a judge to consider whether a crime had been committed if a district attorney refuses to issue a criminal complaint.

A former process engineer for an electrical transformer manufacturer, Stingley had no legal training. Still, in November 2020, he filed a 14-page petition with the then-chief judge of the Milwaukee County Circuit Court, Mary Triggiano. It cited legal authority and “material facts,” including excerpts from police reports, witness statements and stills from the surveillance video. Stingley quoted former U.S. Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis in the petition and the British statesman William Gladstone: “Justice delayed is justice denied.”

That led to the appointment in July 2022 of Dane County District Attorney Ismael Ozanne to review the case. But that process was slowed by procedural hurdles. Stingley took the delays in stride, saying he trusted that Ozanne and his staff were treating the matter seriously and acting appropriately.

In 2024, Stingley said, Ozanne’s office advised him that they had found sufficient evidence to issue charges against Cole and Beringer but could not guarantee that a jury would deliver a guilty verdict. Stingley, researching the family’s options, said he inquired about the restorative justice process. The DA’s office supported the idea, arranging for him and the two men to meet under the supervision of the Andrew Center for Restorative Justice, part of the law school at Milwaukee’s Marquette University. The program is run by Triggiano, who’d retired from the court.

The concept of restorative justice can be traced back to indigenous cultures, where people sat together to talk through conflict and solve problems. It emerged in the United States in criminal justice systems in the 1970s as a way to provide alternatives to prison and restitution to victims. Elsewhere, it has notably been used to address the aftermath of genocide in Rwanda, where beginning in 2002 truth-telling forums led to forgiveness and reconciliation.

Stingley, who has three remaining grown children and four grandchildren, desperately wanted “balance restored” for his family. He decided the best path forward was to meet with the men he considered responsible for his son’s death.

The quest for closure

Stingley brought photos of Corey to the restorative justice meeting with Berringer in April.

The goal: to respectfully share their perspectives on the tragedy and how it impacted each of them personally. What was said was not recorded or transcribed. It was not for use in any court proceeding. 

The sessions began with the Stingley family sharing heartfelt stories about Corey as a son, brother, student and friend. They spoke of their great bond, Corey’s love of sports and their struggle to cope with his absence. 

When discussion turned to what happened in the store, Stingley said, Berringer described having only faint memories of the fatal encounter. He recalled a brief struggle and grabbing the teen by his jacket, not his hair. 

Before departing the meeting, a tearful Beringer told Stingley he was looking for peace, Stingley recalled.

Cotton, Beringer’s attorney, told ProPublica that the incident and the legal steps affected his client in profound ways. “He’s had anxiety really from this from day one,” Cotton said.

The result, he said: “Sleeplessness. Horrible anxiety. Fearful because he has to go to court.”

Does the resolution ease Beringer’s mind? “I don’t know,” Cotton said, adding that the hope is that the Stingley family finds solace in the resolution process.

Cole, in a meeting in May with Stingley and some of his family, brought a gift: a pair of angel wings on a gold chain with a small “C” charm and several clear reflective orbs. With it came a handwritten note, saying: “I hope this sun catcher brings a gentle reflection of the love & light of Corey’s memory and that you feel his presence shining on you each day.” 

“I told him I appreciate the gesture,” Stingley said.

Cole, according to Stingley, told him that he felt something other than the altercation — perhaps some health ailment — led to Corey’s demise.

Stingley invited Cole to watch the surveillance video together at a second session. As that day neared, in July, Stingley considered backing out. “It was almost as if I had to drag myself up out of the car,” he said. But he said he realized that he’d been preparing for such an event for 13 years: to come to some honest reckoning with the men involved. 

After watching the video, he and Cole reviewed the death certificate, showing the medical examiner’s conclusions. Stingley said Cole stressed that he did not choke Corey but came to realize that what happened in the store caused the teen to lose his life, not any preexisting condition. The acknowledgment eased Stingley’s burden.

“I felt like I was reaching a place where I was finally going to get the justice that I’ve been pursuing,” Stingley said, “and this is one of the steps I had to go through to get that completed.”

Triggiano commended each of the participants for their courage in meeting and the Stingley family for “seeking the humanity of their son as opposed to vengeance.” She said Beringer and Cole “keenly listened, reflected and really acknowledged their connection to the events that led to Corey’s death.” 

“The conversations were emotional and difficult but deeply human,” she said.

After the loss of his son, Stingley wanted to see the three men imprisoned. But so many years later, justice now looks different. Now Laumann is dead. Beringer is changed by the experience. And Cole is a father eager to protect his own children. 

Now, in Stingley’s eyes, prison is beside the point. Criminal charges will stand instead as a strong signal of accountability, of justice — and of a father’s unyielding love.

ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power.

A father’s quest for justice finds resolution after 13 years 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.

When teacher Amanda Glunz started a robotics team at Audubon Technology and Communication High School four years ago, there were just five members. 

Now, the program has grown to 32 students and two teams, including the newly formed all-girls team Av414nche. The newest team was designed to give girls an opportunity to break into science, technology, engineering and math, also known as STEM. 

“We went with Av414nche at first, because you know how avalanches fall down? It’s like breaking down the barriers,” Audubon junior Lily Sanders said. 

The team consists of builders, programmers and a marketing team.

The teams give students an outlet to build confidence and skills in STEM, receive mentorship and improve social skills, Glunz said.

Building the robot

Several steps go into turning a concept from paper into a moving and functioning robot, said Jorja, an eighth grader at Audubon and member of Av414nche. 

It all starts with a sketch. 

“Then we started to actively use Legos,” she said. “Eventually we switched from Legos to Onshape (a computer-aided design (CAD) software program), and then once we had the Onshape model down, we just decided to go from there.” 

After building the robot, the team uses trial and error to get it to function as best as possible. 

For the team’s upcoming qualifier competitions, robots need to shoot balls into a goal. Audubon students compete against other schools across the state in several robotics competitions.

Sanders is part of the team that helps to build the robot. For their most recent competition, she tested out different wheels for their robot to see which ones launched the balls best. 

“Really just figuring out what will work and what will not work,” Sanders said. “It’s really just a lot of trial and error.”

The robot is named Ava, which is short for Av414nche.

Jorja, a programmer on the team, works to make the robots move. 

“The robot does not know anything until we tell it,” she said. “It wouldn’t just do it by itself.” 

She said programmers first worked on the code that operates the wheels to make the robot move, then they code the wheel that makes the ball shoot.

Mentorship and higher education

When they aren’t working on the team’s social media, the marketing team looks for mentors who can introduce students to the fields of technology and engineering.

Most mentors are students from local universities including Milwaukee School of Engineering and Marquette University. The marketing team also has its own mentor who works in graphic design. 

Some students like Davin Dacio, an Audubon junior who takes a dual enrollment course at Milwaukee Area Technical College, get college-level programming experience that is used on Audubon’s co-ed robotics team, DreaMKEepers. 

Starting at a young age

Jaida Campbell, a junior on the marketing team, said they are trying to recruit younger students to the team. 

Middle and high school students at Audubon share a campus. Middle schoolers begin robotics at the school by participating in the FIRST LEGO League. League members work with coaches and teammates to build Lego-based robots for engineering competitions. 

Though Jorja is only in eighth grade, this is her first year on the high school robotics team. 

She started as a fifth grader in the FIRST LEGO League, and by the seventh grade, she and Glunz worked on a coding project in the Fiserv Future Techies program, where they made it to nationals. 

“It really inspired me, the fifth grade LEGO League,” Jorja said. “I love Legos and I was good with technology so I was like, OK, why not join my favorite things?”

Alex Klaus is the education solutions 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.

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 high school’s robotics teams help students break down barriers and build skills — and confidence 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.

The Milwaukee Police Administration Building downtown. (Photo by Isiah Holmes/Wisconsin Examiner)

The Milwaukee Police Department says it doesn’t have a plan in place if federal immigration authorities mobilize into the city at a scale similar to operations in nearby Chicago and Minneapolis. 

Immigration and Customs Enforcement launched one of the largest operations in its history last week, sending about 2,000 agents into the Twin Cities. That mobilization resulted in an ICE agent shooting and killing 37-year-old Renee Nicole Good Wednesday morning in Minneapolis. Minneapolis schools were closed Thursday because, in a separate incident, ICE agents deployed tear gas at a high school as students were being dismissed.

Late last year, ICE’s “Operation Midway Blitz” similarly sent a large number of federal agents into the Chicago area. While the operation was underway, ICE and other federal agents killed a 38-year-old Mexican man during a traffic stop and in another incident rammed into the car of a woman who was warning neighbors about ICE presence before shooting her five times. 

The Chicago operation included at least another dozen incidents in which federal agents pointed their guns or fired less-lethal weapons at residents, according to data compiled by The Trace. 

In both cities, the massive presence of immigration authorities has caused significant ripple effects through local communities, straining the ability of local law enforcement to control crowds of observers and protesters and respond to the disruptions in traffic caused by caravans of federal SUVs traveling over city streets. 

“Local police departments and many state governors have been very firm in their communication to federal law enforcement that federal law enforcement is not welcome in their cities conducting these sorts of major operations because of the fact that it is so disruptive,” says Ingrid Eagly, a law professor at UCLA who focuses on immigration enforcement. “Because people you know can be injured and harmed, and communities are living in fear. It’s causing a great amount of disruption in communities to have this kind of strong law enforcement presence.” 

In cities across the country where ICE agents have been deployed in large numbers, local officials have had to decide how local cops engage with the operations and what that engagement communicates to local residents. Eagly says that operating as “a backup service for unprepared ICE agents” would be using local resources to legitimize ICE’s presence. 

“To send in local law enforcement, as backup, as sort of part of the enforcement team, would be essentially being part of the of the federal police force conducting ICE operations,” she says.

The operations in Chicago and Minneapolis, two largely Democratic Midwestern cities  that are frequent targets of rhetorical attacks by Republicans, are prominent displays of force in communities similar to Milwaukee. Even though Wisconsin has so far avoided the brunt of the Trump administration’s stepped-up immigration enforcement efforts, that could change. 

Milwaukee Mayor Cavalier Johnson told the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel that the city had to be prepared for the “eventuality” that an ICE surge is coming.

“Given what happened [Wednesday] and the young woman who was killed by a federal agent in Minneapolis, we got to prepare on the ground,” Johnson said.

But when asked if the Milwaukee Police had a plan for managing a potential ICE operation in the city, a spokesperson for the department only pointed to the department’s existing immigration policy. 

The department’s immigration policy states that Milwaukee Police officers are not allowed to cooperate with ICE’s civil immigration enforcement actions. 

“Proactive immigration enforcement by local police can be detrimental to our mission and policing philosophy when doing so deters some individuals from participating in their civic obligation to assist the police,” the policy states. 

But the written policy does not include any provisions for how police personnel should respond in the event of massive ICE presence in the community. Having a noncooperation or “sanctuary” policy could make Milwaukee a target for Trump’s mass deportation program. Despite that, when pressed for clarification because the policy does not state now the department would manage the fallout of an ICE surge, the spokesperson refused to answer.

“It states what our policy [is] in regards to immigration enforcement,” a Milwaukee police spokesperson said in an unsigned email on Tuesday, before the Minneapolis incident. “We do not have an operation like Chicago therefore cannot provide information about a policy of something that we do not have in our city.” 

Pressed again for an answer to the specific question about managing the traffic and crowd control implications of a massive ICE operation in Milwaukee, the spokesperson again refused to answer. 

“We have an immigration enforcement policy just because you do not like the answer does not mean we are going to answer different to you,” the spokesperson wrote. 

After the shooting in Minneapolis, in answer to a follow-up question from the Examiner, the MPD spokesperson again cited the department’s existing policy preventing cooperation with federal immigration enforcement.

Update: After publication of this story, the Milwaukee Police Department provided further comment asserting its sanctuary policy serves as its plan to handle a large ICE presence in the city.

“We saw your article and assert that your title is misleading. Our policy reflects MPD’s course of action in working with immigration enforcement officials. To be clear, US Bureau of Immigrations and Customs Enforcement has been present in Milwaukee for many years, even prior to the current presidential administration. You asked what our plan was if immigration authorities mobilize into the city at a scale similar to operations in other jurisdictions — our response is that we have a policy in place and we will continue to abide by our policy. That does not change regardless of the number of agents who are present in our City.”