latimes--2020-03-22--Hoping to escape coronavirus, city dwellers are fleeing to California's deserts and mountains

Just two weeks after Gina Grande landed her dream job in San Francisco , authorities ordered residents to stay home in a desperate bid to slow the spread of the coronavirus .
Rumors of fistfights breaking out in grocery stores soon followed .
“ Overnight , the world took a sharp turn into the Twilight Zone , ” Grande said .
“ I had to get out of there .
So , I made a beeline to my boss ’ office and said , ‘ This is awkward , but can I please telecommute from Southern California ?
’ ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ headed for a three-bedroom second home she operates as a short-term rental on the outskirts of Joshua Tree .
Along the way , a distressing advisory came over her cellphone : A client in Los Angeles had just auto-booked the place for three weeks .
“ I texted a sincere apology about having to cancel their reservation , ” she said .
As the coronavirus pandemic tightens its grip on California ’ s largest cities , some residents are fleeing urban sprawl and seeking shelter in isolated communities in the Mojave Desert or @ @ @ @ @ @ @ they say , is to avoid possible public unrest and limit their exposure to the virus .
These new urban immigrants are not entirely welcome , however .
Locals fear their arrival could overwhelm the public health systems of small towns already struggling to cope with the growing crisis , and public health officials worry the movement will lead to greater spread of the highly contagious virus .
In Los Angeles , Mayor Eric Garcetti announced Thursday night that residents were forbidden from moving to or from vacation homes outside the city , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and safety restrictions aimed at fighting contagion .
In Mammoth Lakes , a small Eastern Sierra town that survives primarily on skiing at Mammoth Mountain , the tourism board this week told nonresidents to keep out .
“ The reason is simple , ” the board ’ s website announced .
“ As a small , remote mountain community our healthcare facilities lack the capacity to handle a widespread outbreak of COVID-19.
” The migration appears to be driven by fear , and the nation ’ s sudden shift toward teleworking , which @ @ @ @ @ @ @ roam .
Joshua Tree , a threadbare desert oasis roughly 130 miles east of Los Angeles , has been inundated .
Ordinarily , many of the communities 1,160 short term rentals would be occupied by park goers and desert weekenders , but now they are being snapped up for weeks and months at a time .
Some property managers there say the first two questions asked by prospective clients are : “ Do you have anything available for several weeks or longer ?
” and “ Do you have Internet access ?
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ long-term stays over three weeks , ” said Josh Sonntag , who operates several rental units in the area .
“ In both cases , social distancing and the ability to work remotely was important.
” The clients declined to comment .
But Sonntag said one of the rentals was reserved by a couple who “ figured Joshua Tree was a good place to get to know their baby without the stress of a city environment.
” Bryan Wynwood , owner of Joshua Tree Modern Real Estate , said , “ Every call @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Some of them are from city dwellers worried about being stuck in the center of a metropolis that loses control of its basic public services.
” But some of the new arrivals are former residents scrambling to move back into second homes and home-sharing rentals they own in town , which had been generating extra cash by catering to the 3 million people who visit Joshua Tree National Park each year .
Sam Steinman , 28 , a professional rock-climbing coach who owns several short-term rentals in Joshua Tree , said he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ people ’ s voices .
When he recently told two medical workers in San Francisco that he had nothing to rent to them , they offered to pay him more than double the usual price .
“ I ’ ve seen this kind of fear and desperation before in Israel during rocket attacks , ” he said .
“ A friend recently asked if I had a gun he could borrow .
I said absolutely not.
” Leroy Westerling , a professor at UC Merced and an expert on risk management issues related @ @ @ @ @ @ @ some of these big city migrants may be moving into a remote environment they don ’ t fully understand.
” “ A lot of these rentals are in remote areas that are prone to flooding and wildfires , ” he said , “ and serviced by cash-strapped hospitals ill equipped to handle a surge in population threatened by coronavirus.
” “ Personally , ” he added , “ if I got sick , I ’ d rather be in San Francisco or Los Angeles.
” In isolated Mammoth Lakes , about 300 miles @ @ @ @ @ @ @ trying to halt a seasonal trend that normally sees the weekend population quadruple as skiers and snowboarders flock to the Mammoth Mountain ski area .
Now , with the ski area closed due to the pandemic , tourism officials are trying to discourage Airbnb customers and people from out of town who own home-sharing rentals in the area from taking up long-term residence until the threat subsides .
They say medical care is a primary concern .
With only one ventilator and 17 emergency beds at the local hospital , patients in dire @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a hospital in Reno .
Sam Roberts , a Mammoth Lakes resident and president of the nonprofit group Friends of the Inyo , summed up the anxieties in the area this way : “ When driving up from Los Angeles , travelers make several stops along the way — for gasoline , for food , to stretch their legs .
Trouble is , they could be picking up the virus and bringing it into town with them.
” Yet , the seriousness of the threat posed by the virus seemed to have eluded @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the nation who as recently as last weekend still crowded bouldering hot spots just west of the Sierra Nevada town of Bishop , about 45 miles south of Mammoth Lakes .
Defying social distancing , hundreds of them camped together in the backcountry and piled into local restaurants and watering holes , putting themselves and the community at risk for infection .
“ Some of the behavior has been disappointing , ” lamented Bishop City Councilwoman Karen Schwartz , who on the following Monday closed a mountain climbing retail store she manages in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ world are screaming at us to take this virus seriously in order to avoid becoming another Italy.
” On Friday , Italian officials announced that 627 people with COVID-19 had died in just 24 hours , raising the nation ’ s total number of conavirus deaths to more than 4,000 .
Thoughts of Italy were also in Tracy Fisher ’ s mind when she decided to head for a home-sharing rental perched on a mountain in Joshua Tree .
The 53-year-old had been in Austria when the coronavirus began to make its grim @ @ @ @ @ @ @ late February , while I was in Vienna , authorities started ordering people who had recently been in Italy to quarantine for two weeks , ” she said .
“ I quickly learned that just mentioning the word ‘ Italy , ’ or even saying ‘ grazie , ’ the Italian word for thank you , could transform a warm welcome into fear and horror on people ’ s faces.
” She arrived back in the U.S. this month to find that fear and confusion over the continuing spread of the coronavirus , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ cities and counties , had triggered waves of cancellations at short-term rentals across the nation .
Now , many of those vacancies are snapped up by city residents and owners of shared-home rentals with plans to hunker down for months , if necessary .
Their presence may eventually reshape the culture and economy with demands for creature comforts they left behind : shopping centers , wider roads , more schools .
In the meantime , Fisher said the euphoria of being home again is already starting to wear off .
Under gloomy gunmetal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out at the vista below of washboard dirt roads lined with Joshua trees and modest homes and said , “ The isolation here can be more than I can handle.
” “ As soon as the coronavirus pandemic clears up , ” she added with a smile , “ I ’ m leaving town .
”

Tracy Fisher managed to leave Italy just as the coronavirus was exploding and now enjoys the isolation of her home overlooking Yucca Mesa in Joshua Tree.
Just two weeks after Gina Grande landed her dream job in San Francisco, authorities ordered residents to stay home in a desperate bid to slow the spread of the coronavirus. Rumors of fistfights breaking out in grocery stores soon followed.
“Overnight, the world took a sharp turn into the Twilight Zone,” Grande said. “I had to get out of there. So, I made a beeline to my boss’ office and said, ‘This is awkward, but can I please telecommute from Southern California?’”
She hit the road that night and headed for a three-bedroom second home she operates as a short-term rental on the outskirts of Joshua Tree. Along the way, a distressing advisory came over her cellphone: A client in Los Angeles had just auto-booked the place for three weeks.
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“I texted a sincere apology about having to cancel their reservation,” she said.
As the coronavirus pandemic tightens its grip on California’s largest cities, some residents are fleeing urban sprawl and seeking shelter in isolated communities in the Mojave Desert or rugged Sierra Nevada. Their hope, they say, is to avoid possible public unrest and limit their exposure to the virus.
These new urban immigrants are not entirely welcome, however. Locals fear their arrival could overwhelm the public health systems of small towns already struggling to cope with the growing crisis, and public health officials worry the movement will lead to greater spread of the highly contagious virus.
In Los Angeles, Mayor Eric Garcetti announced Thursday night that residents were forbidden from moving to or from vacation homes outside the city, along with a number of other health and safety restrictions aimed at fighting contagion.
In Mammoth Lakes, a small Eastern Sierra town that survives primarily on skiing at Mammoth Mountain, the tourism board this week told nonresidents to keep out. “The reason is simple,” the board’s website announced. “As a small, remote mountain community our healthcare facilities lack the capacity to handle a widespread outbreak of COVID-19.”
Joshua Tree, a desert community about 130 miles east of Los Angeles, has been inundated with outsiders. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
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The migration appears to be driven by fear, and the nation’s sudden shift toward teleworking, which has afforded urban residents greater freedom to roam.
Joshua Tree, a threadbare desert oasis roughly 130 miles east of Los Angeles, has been inundated. Ordinarily, many of the community’s 1,160 short term rentals would be occupied by park goers and desert weekenders, but now they are being snapped up for weeks and months at a time. Some property managers there say the first two questions asked by prospective clients are: “Do you have anything available for several weeks or longer?” and “Do you have internet access?”
“We just confirmed two rentals for long-term stays over three weeks,” said Josh Sonntag, who operates several rental units in the area. “In both cases, social distancing and the ability to work remotely was important.”
The clients declined to comment. But Sonntag said one of the rentals was reserved by a couple who “figured Joshua Tree was a good place to get to know their baby without the stress of a city environment.”
Bryan Wynwood, owner of Joshua Tree Modern Real Estate, said, “Every call I get is related to the coronavirus. Some of them are from city dwellers worried about being stuck in the center of a metropolis that loses control of its basic public services.”
But some of the new arrivals are former residents scrambling to move back into second homes and home-sharing rentals they own in town, which had been generating extra cash by catering to the 3 million people who visit Joshua Tree National Park each year.
Gina Grande, who left her apartment in San Francisco to escape the coronavirus shutdown, takes a stroll in the desert next to her home in Joshua Tree. (Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
Sam Steinman, 28, a professional rock-climbing coach who owns several short-term rentals in Joshua Tree, said he has become alarmed by the desperation in people’s voices. When he recently told two medical workers in San Francisco that he had nothing to rent to them, they offered to pay him more than double the usual price.
“I’ve seen this kind of fear and desperation before in Israel during rocket attacks,” he said. “A friend recently asked if I had a gun he could borrow. I said absolutely not.”
Leroy Westerling, a professor at UC Merced and an expert on risk management issues related to climate change, suggested that “some of these big city migrants may be moving into a remote environment they don’t fully understand.”
“A lot of these rentals are in remote areas that are prone to flooding and wildfires,” he said, “and serviced by cash-strapped hospitals ill equipped to handle a surge in population threatened by coronavirus.”
“Personally,” he added, “if I got sick, I’d rather be in San Francisco or Los Angeles.”
In isolated Mammoth Lakes, about 300 miles north of Los Angeles, officials are trying to halt a seasonal trend that normally sees the weekend population quadruple as skiers and snowboarders flock to the Mammoth Mountain ski area.
Now, with the ski area closed due to the pandemic, tourism officials are trying to discourage Airbnb customers and people from out of town who own home-sharing rentals in the area from taking up long-term residence until the threat subsides.
They say medical care is a primary concern. With only one ventilator and 17 emergency beds at the local hospital, patients in dire condition are sometimes flown by helicopter to a hospital in Reno.
Sam Roberts, a Mammoth Lakes resident and president of the nonprofit group Friends of the Inyo, summed up the anxieties in the area this way: “When driving up from Los Angeles, travelers make several stops along the way — for gasoline, for food, to stretch their legs. Trouble is, they could be picking up the virus and bringing it into town with them.”
Yet, the seriousness of the threat posed by the virus seemed to have eluded massive crowds of rock climbers from across the nation who as recently as last weekend still crowded bouldering hot spots just west of the Sierra Nevada town of Bishop, about 45 miles south of Mammoth Lakes.
Defying social distancing, hundreds of them camped together in the backcountry and piled into local restaurants and watering holes, putting themselves and the community at risk for infection.
“Some of the behavior has been disappointing,” lamented Bishop City Councilwoman Karen Schwartz, who on the following Monday closed a mountain climbing retail store she manages in town. “Health authorities around the world are screaming at us to take this virus seriously in order to avoid becoming another Italy.”
On Friday, Italian officials announced that 627 people with COVID-19 had died in just 24 hours, raising the nation’s total number of coronavirus deaths to more than 4,000.
Tracy Fisher managed to leave Italy just as the coronavirus was exploding and now enjoys the isolation of her home overlooking Yucca Mesa in Joshua Tree. (Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
Thoughts of Italy were also in Tracy Fisher’s mind when she decided to head for a home-sharing rental perched on a mountain in Joshua Tree. The 53-year-old had been in Austria when the coronavirus began to make its grim presence known in Europe.
“In late February, while I was in Vienna, authorities started ordering people who had recently been in Italy to quarantine for two weeks,” she said. “I quickly learned that just mentioning the word ‘Italy,’ or even saying ‘grazie,’ the Italian word for thank you, could transform a warm welcome into fear and horror on people’s faces.”
She arrived back in the U.S. this month to find that fear and confusion over the continuing spread of the coronavirus, combined with travel restrictions issued in several cities and counties, had triggered waves of cancellations at short-term rentals across the nation.
Now, many of those vacancies are snapped up by city residents and owners of shared-home rentals with plans to hunker down for months, if necessary. Their presence may eventually reshape the culture and economy with demands for creature comforts they left behind: shopping centers, wider roads, more schools.
In the meantime, Fisher said the euphoria of being home again is already starting to wear off. Under gloomy gunmetal gray skies on Wednesday, she gazed out at the vista below of washboard dirt roads lined with Joshua trees and modest homes and said, “The isolation here can be more than I can handle.”
“As soon as the coronavirus pandemic clears up,” she added with a smile, “I’m leaving town.”


latimes--2020-03-22--'You know about the coronavirus?' Homeless outreach workers have a new reason to worry

On a recent morning , Katrina Johnson , Ralph Gomez and Kenya Smith are eager to hit the streets .
Outreach workers for a homeless agency serving South Los Angeles , they want to catch up with their clients before the weekend , to make sure everyone is safe for the days ahead .
Standing in their office off Slauson Boulevard , they put together their game plan but pause when they come to the supply closet .
Its shelves are close to empty .
The two-ounce containers of hand sanitizer are gone .
Wipes are in short supply , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
They scrounge for what they can find : granola bars , cookies , crackers , a few personal care items .
The scarcity , they hope , will be temporary , but they can ’ t be certain .
The threat of the novel coronavirus hangs over them , invisible and menacing , threatening to infect them and their clients — the men and women struggling with homelessness .
But they wonder and worry .
By hitting the streets each day — assessing needs , delivering food — they know that they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ virus to a population that is fairly isolated .
More than just a fever and cough , the resulting disease COVID-19 could lead to pneumonia , organ failure and death , worst-case scenarios for the most vulnerable .
At a staff meeting a day earlier , outreach teams discussed new protocols : social distancing , no transporting of clients , no salad deliveries , placing water or prepackaged snacks on the ground , leaving pens with clients instead of reusing them .
They are a tight group , the employees of Homeless Outreach @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , conditioned by months , if not years , of standing on the front line of what was once the city ’ s most conspicuous public health crisis .
“ This is what we ’ ve always done , ” Johnson says .
“ We just need to take it to another level entirely.
” The simplicity of the measures , the outreach workers say , is what makes them so challenging .
They are so basic , they are easy to forget .
But forgetfulness , they know , comes with a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ health is already compromised by preexisting conditions , stress , addiction and the squalor of the streets .
Age , too , is a risk factor .
According to the most recent government-mandated homeless count , 13,600 men and women in Los Angeles County are at least 55 and older .
By another estimate , close to 4,000 are older than 65 .
While COVID-19 infects people of all ages , mortality among seniors has been especially high .
The outreach workers know their jobs will change in the coming weeks , that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the medically vulnerable .
But on this day — while they can — they would like to help Orlando get his Social Security card and locate Mary , who has been approved for a bed in a shelter but is missing .
A light rain is falling .
The odds are against them .
In the rain , clients tend to scatter into fast-food restaurants , libraries , any place to get out of the wet and cold .
But Johnson , Gomez and Smith have to keep trying , even as they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ where homelessness and disease meet .
In the San Fernando Valley , outreach worker Eric Montoya is ready to start his day .
He parks his car in the Sepulveda Basin and heads out .
Earlier this month , the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority released a webinar on the coronavirus .
Montoya watched it from LA Family Housing ’ s North Hollywood office but found his mind wandering .
They were telling him everything he already knew .
Having experienced homelessness himself , he keeps a distance from his clients and is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I try not to think about the risk of getting infected myself , ” he says .
“ If God wants me to die from the coronavirus , so be it .
What can I do ?
I need to help these people.
” This feeling of responsibility prompts him to strike out on a dirt path edged by wild mustard .
He carries five small bags filled with food , water and a hygiene kit .
Joggers breeze past him , as he sneaks a quick cigarette before skirting the scrub brush @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Montoya knows that if he doesn ’ t check in on its residents , no one else will .
He talks to his clients about the principles of social distancing and urges them to sleep one person to a tent if they can .
If that ’ s not possible , he tells them about the risk of sleeping face to face .
Feet to face is better .
Johnson joins Gomez and Smith in the parking lot of the HOPICS offices .
Their employer refers to each team of workers by a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
They are the Green Team , assigned to the streets around Leimert Park and Vermont Square .
“ We just wiped everything down , ” Smith says , looking at the van .
He and Gomez had taken Clorox wipes and Lysol disinfectant spray to its doors , the dashboard and seats .
“ Good , ” Johnson says , “ I was going to ask.
” Gomez drives .
Johnson rides shotgun , and Smith sits in the back .
They pull out of the parking lot of the one-time Weber @ @ @ @ @ @ @ head west .
“ It ’ s crazy that the virus got started three months ago , and here we are today , ” Smith says , as he reflects upon the chaos of the last week .
He is surprised city and state agencies hadn ’ t done more sooner .
Earlier in the week , the Green Team spent three days trying to find hand sanitizer , extending its search into hardware and medical supply stores .
Even if it cost more , it would be worth it .
But they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ supply manager for their agency , Zyanya Martinez , had scoured her usual sources — Smart & Final , 99 Cents Only Stores , Dollar Tree — and had come up empty .
Her fallbacks , Target and Walmart , were no better .
The agency was able to get hospital wipes from a medical supply store , but using them requires gloves .
And gloves and masks are being rationed .
Even deliveries of bottled water have been cut back or are running late .
“ It ’ s very discouraging that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we need to do our jobs , ” Smith says .
Within a week , the shortages will have eased .
Gloves and masks will arrive from the county Department of Health Services , but more than shortages , the Green Team worries that the new protocols — as necessary as they are — will make its jobs more difficult .
Welcome to the temporary new normal in homeless outreach work .
Last week , Mayor Eric Garcetti announced that the city would convert 42 recreation centers into temporary shelters , providing 6,000 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ slowing the spread of the novel coronavirus among the homeless population .
The new shelters , 13 of which opened Friday , will focus outreach efforts primarily on older clients .
“ I want to make sure what resources we use up , are used up on people who are most vulnerable , ” said John Helyar , a manager with HOPICS .
But when Helyar heard of Garcetti ’ s plan , his enthusiasm was guarded .
Opening doors is easy ; getting clients to step inside is tricky .
“ We @ @ @ @ @ @ @ worried about going into shelters due to the risk of infection , which is understandable , ” Helyar said .
He and his staff are putting together a list of their clients in South Los Angeles who are older than 65 or especially vulnerable to illness .
With that list in hand , they will start targeting their outreach efforts .
Beyond the challenge of persuading clients to move off the streets and arranging safe transportation , there are “ a million considerations , ” Helyar said , when it comes to running @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to staff it ?
” he asked .
“ What cleaning protocols will be in place ?
How will security be handled ?
” He heard that city employees will be enlisted in order to keep his personnel free for outreach , but the details are still sketchy .
Working his way through brush growing on the side of the Los Angeles River , Montoya meets Patrick Moran , one of the residents of a nearby encampment .
Montoya has been trying to help Moran , 56 , who wants housing and needs @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of that can happen , Montoya has to get him to the Department of Motor Vehicles where Moran can get a new identification card .
He ’ s hoping they can make that trip in a day or two , but he has his doubts .
He hands Moran a drawstring bag and makes a point of telling him that there is soap and hand sanitizer inside .
Moran ’ s hands are caked with dirt .
You know about the virus , Montoya asks .
“ If you have friends that are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you might not want to hang out with them.
” With the radio playing low , Gomez wheels the van through the narrow streets of South Los Angeles , lined with low-slung bungalows with broad front porches and green lawns .
The Green Team never knows where its clients might show up .
“ We need to put pens in our vans , ” Johnson remembers .
When getting signatures from clients , from now on they will want to leave the pens behind .
They pass a full shopping cart and slow @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s , ” Johnson says .
“ I wonder where he is.
” A block later , they see someone lying on the sidewalk under the overhang of a recreation center .
The figure is covered with a purple blanket , black trash bags close by .
The purple blanket jerks , and David abruptly sits up .
The Green Team first met him eight months ago .
A bright silver earring catches the light through David ’ s thick black hair and beard .
His fingers are covered with rings , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Smith explains that David can be delusional : He thinks he is a shaman and burns himself with cigarettes and lighters .
Despite the possibility of the wounds getting infected , he waves off a closer examination .
“ How ’ s your skin feeling ?
” asks Smith , who stands more than six feet away and has to raise his voice .
He explains that he is keeping his distance because of the coronavirus .
“ You know about the coronavirus ?
” Smith asks , reminding David to be sure @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from others .
“ Hand sanitizer is in the hygiene kit.
” Johnson places a paper bag on the sidewalk : granola bars , water and the kit .
Gomez speaks to David in Spanish , tosses him a clipboard and a pen .
David signs and tosses the clipboard back .
Gomez wipes it down .
As they say goodbye , Smith abstains from the fist bump that he and David have always shared .
As a nurse , Smith prides himself on his interactions with his clients .
Patting them on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out a salad — these simple gestures go far toward building trust and a rapport that might one day open the door to housing .
“ These protocols sure make interacting with clients a lot more awkward , ” he says .
“ We have to break old habits , ” Johnson says .
“ We have to retrain ourselves before responding.
” Throughout Los Angeles , outreach workers such as Montoya and Green Team members are still trying to understand how to do their work in this time of pandemic .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tells Moran , “ tell them to go to the hospital.
” Calling 911 is another alternative , which is what members of the Green Team will do if they encounter someone with a fever .
Smith carries a thermometer .
Their greatest concern is less about the virus spreading within the homeless community than about outsiders introducing it .
In the Sepulveda Basin , that means police officers who patrol this urban wilderness and are not always able to respect social distancing and the do-gooders who don ’ t understand what the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In the streets of South Los Angeles , that means anyone passing on the sidewalks where homeless men and women live next to businesses and the neighborhoods that they grew up in .
Montoya heads back to his car , and the Green Team continues to search for clients under the day ’ s gray and drizzly sky .
Though the city and state have ordered businesses to close and residents to remain at home , they are essential workers .

On a recent morning, Katrina Johnson, Ralph Gomez and Kenya Smith are eager to hit the streets. Outreach workers for a homeless agency serving South Los Angeles, they want to catch up with their clients before the weekend, to make sure everyone is safe for the days ahead.
Standing in their office off Slauson Boulevard, they put together their game plan but pause when they come to the supply closet. Its shelves are close to empty.
The two-ounce containers of hand sanitizer are gone. Wipes are in short supply, and their van needs its daily cleaning. They scrounge for what they can find: granola bars, cookies, crackers, a few personal care items.
The scarcity, they hope, will be temporary, but they can’t be certain. The threat of the novel coronavirus hangs over them, invisible and menacing, threatening to infect them and their clients — the men and women struggling with homelessness.
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But they wonder and worry.
By hitting the streets each day — assessing needs, delivering food — they know that they represent a possible source for transmitting the virus to a population that is fairly isolated. More than just a fever and cough, the resulting disease COVID-19 could lead to pneumonia, organ failure and death, worst-case scenarios for the most vulnerable.
At a staff meeting a day earlier, outreach teams discussed new protocols: social distancing, no transporting of clients, no salad deliveries, placing water or prepackaged snacks on the ground, leaving pens with clients instead of reusing them.
They are a tight group, the employees of Homeless Outreach Program Integrated Care System, or HOPICS, conditioned by months, if not years, of standing on the front line of what was once the city’s most conspicuous public health crisis.
“This is what we’ve always done,” Johnson says. “We just need to take it to another level entirely.”
The simplicity of the measures, the outreach workers say, is what makes them so challenging. They are so basic, they are easy to forget.
But forgetfulness, they know, comes with a price, especially among a population whose health is already compromised by preexisting conditions, stress, addiction and the squalor of the streets.
Odessa Henderson, left, and Anthony Garcia pack up kits, which include hand sanitizer, snacks and personal care items, to pass out to homeless people as part of their outreach program in Los Angeles. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
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Age, too, is a risk factor. According to the most recent government-mandated homeless count, 13,600 men and women in Los Angeles County are at least 55 and older. By another estimate, close to 4,000 are older than 65. While COVID-19 infects people of all ages, mortality among seniors has been especially high.
The outreach workers know their jobs will change in the coming weeks, that their focus will be on seniors and the medically vulnerable. But on this day — while they can — they would like to help Orlando get his Social Security card and locate Mary, who has been approved for a bed in a shelter but is missing.
A light rain is falling. The odds are against them. In the rain, clients tend to scatter into fast-food restaurants, libraries, any place to get out of the wet and cold.
But Johnson, Gomez and Smith have to keep trying, even as they stand at this strange confluence of crises where homelessness and disease meet.
::
LA Family Housing outreach coordinator Eric Montoya, right, interviews homeless man Patrick Moran, who is camped in the Sepulveda Basin in Encino. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
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In the San Fernando Valley, outreach worker Eric Montoya is ready to start his day. He parks his car in the Sepulveda Basin and heads out.
Earlier this month, the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority released a webinar on the coronavirus. Montoya watched it from LA Family Housing’s North Hollywood office but found his mind wandering.
They were telling him everything he already knew.
Having experienced homelessness himself, he keeps a distance from his clients and is conscientious about washing his hands.
“I try not to think about the risk of getting infected myself,” he says. “If God wants me to die from the coronavirus, so be it. What can I do? I need to help these people.”
This feeling of responsibility prompts him to strike out on a dirt path edged by wild mustard. He carries five small bags filled with food, water and a hygiene kit. Joggers breeze past him, as he sneaks a quick cigarette before skirting the scrub brush on his way to an encampment.
Montoya knows that if he doesn’t check in on its residents, no one else will. He talks to his clients about the principles of social distancing and urges them to sleep one person to a tent if they can. If that’s not possible, he tells them about the risk of sleeping face to face. Feet to face is better.
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LA Family Housing outreach coordinator Eric Montoya walks out into the Sepulveda Dam Recreation Area to conduct interviews with homeless people camped in the Sepulveda Basin in Encino. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
::
Johnson joins Gomez and Smith in the parking lot of the HOPICS offices. Their employer refers to each team of workers by a specific color, coded to specific neighborhoods. They are the Green Team, assigned to the streets around Leimert Park and Vermont Square.
“We just wiped everything down,” Smith says, looking at the van. He and Gomez had taken Clorox wipes and Lysol disinfectant spray to its doors, the dashboard and seats.
“Good,” Johnson says, “I was going to ask.”
Gomez drives. Johnson rides shotgun, and Smith sits in the back. They pull out of the parking lot of the one-time Weber’s bakery on Slauson Avenue and head west.
“It’s crazy that the virus got started three months ago, and here we are today,” Smith says, as he reflects upon the chaos of the last week. He is surprised city and state agencies hadn’t done more sooner.
Earlier in the week, the Green Team spent three days trying to find hand sanitizer, extending its search into hardware and medical supply stores. Even if it cost more, it would be worth it. But they couldn’t find any.
Advertisement
The supply manager for their agency, Zyanya Martinez, had scoured her usual sources — Smart & Final, 99 Cents Only Stores, Dollar Tree — and had come up empty. Her fallbacks, Target and Walmart, were no better.
The agency was able to get hospital wipes from a medical supply store, but using them requires gloves. And gloves and masks are being rationed.
Even deliveries of bottled water have been cut back or are running late.
“It’s very discouraging that we don’t have the supplies we need to do our jobs,” Smith says.
Within a week, the shortages will have eased. Gloves and masks will arrive from the county Department of Health Services, but more than shortages, the Green Team worries that the new protocols — as necessary as they are — will make its jobs more difficult.
Outreach workers Ralph Gomez, left, and Kenya Smith sanitize their van before going out to look for homeless people as part of their program in Los Angeles. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
::
Welcome to the temporary new normal in homeless outreach work.
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Last week, Mayor Eric Garcetti announced that the city would convert 42 recreation centers into temporary shelters, providing 6,000 new beds in an effort aimed at slowing the spread of the novel coronavirus among the homeless population.
The new shelters, 13 of which opened Friday, will focus outreach efforts primarily on older clients.
“I want to make sure what resources we use up, are used up on people who are most vulnerable,” said John Helyar, a manager with HOPICS.
But when Helyar heard of Garcetti’s plan, his enthusiasm was guarded. Opening doors is easy; getting clients to step inside is tricky.
“We’re seeing a lot of people worried about going into shelters due to the risk of infection, which is understandable,” Helyar said.
He and his staff are putting together a list of their clients in South Los Angeles who are older than 65 or especially vulnerable to illness. With that list in hand, they will start targeting their outreach efforts.
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Beyond the challenge of persuading clients to move off the streets and arranging safe transportation, there are “a million considerations,” Helyar said, when it comes to running a shelter.
“Who is going to staff it?” he asked. “What cleaning protocols will be in place? How will security be handled?”
He heard that city employees will be enlisted in order to keep his personnel free for outreach, but the details are still sketchy.
::
Working his way through brush growing on the side of the Los Angeles River, Montoya meets Patrick Moran, one of the residents of a nearby encampment.
Montoya has been trying to help Moran, 56, who wants housing and needs a hernia operation. But before any of that can happen, Montoya has to get him to the Department of Motor Vehicles where Moran can get a new identification card.
He’s hoping they can make that trip in a day or two, but he has his doubts.
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He hands Moran a drawstring bag and makes a point of telling him that there is soap and hand sanitizer inside. Moran’s hands are caked with dirt.
You know about the virus, Montoya asks.
“If you have friends that are sneezing,” he adds, “you might not want to hang out with them.”
::
Outreach worker Ralph Gomez looks out for homeless clients while driving around in Los Angeles. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
With the radio playing low, Gomez wheels the van through the narrow streets of South Los Angeles, lined with low-slung bungalows with broad front porches and green lawns.
The Green Team never knows where its clients might show up.
“We need to put pens in our vans,” Johnson remembers. When getting signatures from clients, from now on they will want to leave the pens behind.
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They pass a full shopping cart and slow down.
“That’s David’s,” Johnson says. “I wonder where he is.”
A block later, they see someone lying on the sidewalk under the overhang of a recreation center. The figure is covered with a purple blanket, black trash bags close by.
Johnson rolls down her window.
“David,” she calls out. “David!”
The purple blanket jerks, and David abruptly sits up.
The Green Team first met him eight months ago. A bright silver earring catches the light through David’s thick black hair and beard. His fingers are covered with rings, his arms with bracelets and scabs.
Smith explains that David can be delusional: He thinks he is a shaman and burns himself with cigarettes and lighters. Despite the possibility of the wounds getting infected, he waves off a closer examination.
“How’s your skin feeling?” asks Smith, who stands more than six feet away and has to raise his voice. He explains that he is keeping his distance because of the coronavirus.
“You know about the coronavirus?” Smith asks, reminding David to be sure to wash his hands and keep away from others. “Hand sanitizer is in the hygiene kit.”
Johnson places a paper bag on the sidewalk: granola bars, water and the kit.
Gomez speaks to David in Spanish, tosses him a clipboard and a pen. David signs and tosses the clipboard back. Gomez wipes it down.
As they say goodbye, Smith abstains from the fist bump that he and David have always shared.
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As a nurse, Smith prides himself on his interactions with his clients. Patting them on the back, shaking hands, handing out a salad — these simple gestures go far toward building trust and a rapport that might one day open the door to housing.
“These protocols sure make interacting with clients a lot more awkward,” he says.
“We have to break old habits,” Johnson says. “We have to retrain ourselves before responding.”
::
Throughout Los Angeles, outreach workers such as Montoya and Green Team members are still trying to understand how to do their work in this time of pandemic.
“If anyone feels sick,” Montoya tells Moran, “tell them to go to the hospital.”
Calling 911 is another alternative, which is what members of the Green Team will do if they encounter someone with a fever. Smith carries a thermometer.
Outreach workers Denise Ramirez, left, and Katrina Johnson pack food to hand out to homeless people as part of their outreach program in Los Angeles. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
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Their greatest concern is less about the virus spreading within the homeless community than about outsiders introducing it.
In the Sepulveda Basin, that means police officers who patrol this urban wilderness and are not always able to respect social distancing and the do-gooders who don’t understand what the limits of their generosity should be.
In the streets of South Los Angeles, that means anyone passing on the sidewalks where homeless men and women live next to businesses and the neighborhoods that they grew up in.
Montoya heads back to his car, and the Green Team continues to search for clients under the day’s gray and drizzly sky. Though the city and state have ordered businesses to close and residents to remain at home, they are essential workers.


latimes--2020-03-22--California courts paralyzed by coronavirus, with justice hanging in balance

When he strode to the bench inside the Compton courthouse Friday morning , Superior Court Judge Michael J. Shultz was wearing two items more necessary than his pleated black robe : a pair of latex gloves and a face mask .
Miles north in downtown Los Angeles , caution tape had been placed over entire rows inside the criminal justice center ’ s notoriously hectic arraignment court to put as much distance as possible between those in the gallery .
Even the simplest of courthouse functions had to be altered .
When an attorney asked to approach Superior Court Judge @ @ @ @ @ @ @ way through more than 100 items on her calendar in a Van Nuys courtroom Friday , the judge seemed to eye the bench cautiously , taking stock of the risks of having others so close to her .
“ Let ’ s go into the hallway , ” Uhrig said , before leading the prosecutor and defense attorney out of the room .
While the coronavirus has paralyzed much of California , the criminal justice system does not have an off-switch .
At a time when close quarters , hushed conversations and teeming @ @ @ @ @ @ @ courthouses could prove dangerous , law enforcement leaders are scrambling to figure out how to balance public safety and defendant rights .
It ’ s a situation where even the most routine court proceedings pose the risk of spreading the virus .
In Los Angeles County , home to the nation ’ s busiest court system , judges returned to the bench Friday after a three-day hiatus .
But with trials frozen for at least a month and law enforcement leaders trying to reduce the size of the prison population for fear of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the continuing public health crisis threatened to cause a lengthy case backlog and force police and prosecutors to drastically scale back enforcement for the time being .
“ You ’ re going to look at possible mistrials … you ’ re going to look at defendants en masse asking to be released from custody , ” said Laurie Levenson , a Loyola Law School professor and former federal prosecutor .
“ It ’ s unprecedented .
You ’ re going to have to make some tough choices.
” In Department 30 , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ often packed arraignment court , a tub of Clorox wipes was open on the desk where defense attorneys normally sit .
Next door , Judge Jose I. Sandoval began the day ’ s proceedings by sentencing Tyimere Hollinsworth to three years probation after he pleaded no contest to a drug possession count .
But citing the pandemic , Sandoval postponed his date to report to probation to June 1 .
“ Maybe you haven ’ t heard of it , ” Sandoval told the defendant of the coronavirus outbreak .
“ You will @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you are out.
” Conditions seemed to vary by location .
In Van Nuys last week , deputies allowed only two people at a time to enter the security area and limited courtroom access to attorneys , staff and defendants .
People who had come to support their relatives were escorted to adjacent closed courts that had been turned into waiting rooms .
Signs hung near elevators advising that no more than four people should enter each car .
But Meredith Gallen , a deputy public defender and a board member for the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ incredibly long lines ” outside the Compton courthouse Friday .
Plastic trays in the security line were not cleaned after they were handled by court visitors , she said .
“ We have not been provided supplies by any county agency , ” she said .
“ People bring in their own personal wipes and hand sanitizer to clean up court areas.
” Concern about the virus and its impact on court functions seemed to explode in recent days , as the number of infected persons in the state climbed toward 1,000 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the state as of Saturday night , March 21 . )
On March 11 , L.A. County ’ s Presiding Judge Kevin Brazile canceled several retirement parties and seminars , according to a copy of a memo reviewed by The Times .
A week later , he ordered the county ’ s courthouses to be shuttered for three days and froze all trials for a month , limiting court functions to what he deemed essential matters — including proceedings such as arraignments and timely criminal preliminary hearings .
Across the state , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to address the pandemic ’ s impact on criminal justice .
San Diego ’ s courts will operate on an extremely limited basis through April 3 .
In Alameda County , courts are closed until April 7 except for certain proceedings , like arraignments and hearings regarding restraining orders .
Orange County announced it would close its courts for 10 days starting March 17 , but an attempt to host some proceedings in a Santa Ana courthouse this week descended into “ complete chaos ” that led many lawyers to fear for their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ unions whose members work at L.A. County courthouses — including sheriff ’ s deputies , court interpreters and public defenders — have implored Brazile to add trained staff to screen courthouse visitors , provide soap to those in custody at courthouses , and allow bailiffs to limit courtrooms to 10 people .
“ It is irresponsible to allow the courts to resume as if it is ‘ business as usual ’ during this critical worldwide pandemic , ” said the letter to Brazile .
“ We need to take action now in order @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who interact in these public buildings each day.
” Ann Donlan , spokeswoman for Los Angeles Superior Court , said , “ The Court is reviewing the letter.
” On Saturday , the California District Attorney ’ s Assn .
sent a letter to the state Supreme Court asking for a uniform set of rules to be instituted statewide regarding court practices .
The letter , written by Alameda County Dist .
Atty .
Nancy E. O ’ Malley , asked for the top court to determine what an “ essential function ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ judges authority to continue delaying trials if the health emergency persists .
On average , records show , L.A. County prosecutors filed 10,350 cases per year from 2010 to 2018 .
That figure is likely to fall .
The number of arrests recorded by Los Angeles police and sheriff ’ s deputies has already fallen during the outbreak .
There have been no reported outbreaks in the county ’ s jails or among district attorney ’ s employees and their relatives , officials have said .
But three LAPD employees were sickened by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ downtown L.A. federal holding center had to be cleared out and cleaned earlier this week after a prisoner began displaying symptoms of the virus , according to two people with knowledge of the situation who spoke on condition of anonymity .
A spokesman for the U.S.
Marshal ’ s Service , which controls the federal lockup , did not provide additional information .
The district attorney ’ s office , sheriff ’ s department and public defender ’ s office are planning to review about 2,000 cases involving defendants currently in the county @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can be safely released ahead of trial due to the health crisis .
Additionally , Dist .
Atty .
Jackie Lacey has asked prosecutors to consider a defendant ’ s risk of exposure to the virus as a factor when arguing for a bail amount to be set .
In an interview , Lacey said her office will prioritize prosecutions involving violent felons .
“ It ’ s inevitable that some cases are going to be lost .
They ’ re going to be dismissed , not filed , because we ’ re @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ?
” Lacey asked .
“ You ’ ll see prosecutors looking to settle cases more because we just can ’ t accept this volume that we ’ re looking at … but I think the important cases won ’ t be lost .
They ’ ll be adjudicated , the serious cases.
” On the 9th floor of the downtown courthouse Friday , Judge George Lomeli sighed , “ strange times , ” as he put on his robe and took the bench .
Anastacio Hernandez , 62 , was shackled at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be a sentencing hearing .
Hernandez was convicted by a jury in January of assault with a deadly weapon .
His public defender , Ruchi Gupta , asked the judge to release him pending sentencing citing his age and health issues .
“ Since he ’ s in custody , he ’ s exposed ... he ’ s in the age group where he ’ s most likely to develop the virus , ” Gupta said , noting that the social distancing measures that the public must undertake were not possible behind bars @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and the judge was unswayed by the public defender ’ s plea .
He noted there were no coronavirus infection cases in custody , and that public safety still called for Hernandez to remain in jail .
“ The court is not inclined to release , ” Lomeli said .
Many of the cases called Friday were continued to dates as far out as mid-June .
Lacey said it is near impossible to predict how severe of a backlog the county ’ s court system will suffer .
A number of highly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Robert Durst , have already been delayed .
Going forward , Lacey said , the virus will have to be a factor in nearly any filing decision or plea deal her prosecutors make .
“ If it ’ s serious , if somebody ’ s getting hurt , if it looks like something devastating is happening … then that ’ s going to get worked , ” Lacey continued .
“ But if it ’ s something that can wait , it will.
” Some defendants downtown feared their health might come down @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Robert Gallo , 54 , sat nervously , fiddling with his glasses and wiping sweat off his brow .
Gallo , who said he is homeless , was facing charges of welfare fraud .
He denied the charges , and was terrified that the new accusation would trigger a probation violation and jail time .
Gallo did not have an attorney .
When he was eventually approached by a public defender , she introduced herself from several feet away , wearing purple latex gloves .
“ I hope you understand I have to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the defense attorney said .
Around 11 a.m. , the judge called the case and asked Gallo to return on June 19 .
In the meantime , he was released on his own recognizance .
“ Unbelievable , ” Gallo said , relief washing over his face .
“ I can ’ t believe I ’ m going home .
”

The Stanley Mosk Superior Court in downtown Los Angeles on Saturday. Earlier in the week, California Gov. Gavin Newsom issued a stay-at-home order to the state to help slow the spread of the coronavirus outbreak.
When he strode to the bench inside the Compton courthouse Friday morning, Superior Court Judge Michael J. Shultz was wearing two items more necessary than his pleated black robe: a pair of latex gloves and a face mask.
Miles north in downtown Los Angeles, caution tape had been placed over entire rows inside the criminal justice center’s notoriously hectic arraignment court to put as much distance as possible between those in the gallery.
Even the simplest of courthouse functions had to be altered. When an attorney asked to approach Superior Court Judge Emily Garcia Uhrig as she worked her way through more than 100 items on her calendar in a Van Nuys courtroom Friday, the judge seemed to eye the bench cautiously, taking stock of the risks of having others so close to her.
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“Let’s go into the hallway,” Uhrig said, before leading the prosecutor and defense attorney out of the room.
While the coronavirus has paralyzed much of California, the criminal justice system does not have an off-switch. At a time when close quarters, hushed conversations and teeming crowds that are standard in L.A.’s courthouses could prove dangerous, law enforcement leaders are scrambling to figure out how to balance public safety and defendant rights. It’s a situation where even the most routine court proceedings pose the risk of spreading the virus.
In Los Angeles County, home to the nation’s busiest court system, judges returned to the bench Friday after a three-day hiatus. But with trials frozen for at least a month and law enforcement leaders trying to reduce the size of the prison population for fear of sparking a viral outbreak in the jails, the continuing public health crisis threatened to cause a lengthy case backlog and force police and prosecutors to drastically scale back enforcement for the time being.
LOS ANGELES, CA - MARCH 21: Coronavirus warning signs on the Stanley Mosk Superior Courthouse in downtown Los Angeles is photographed on Saturday, March 21, 2020 in Los Angeles, CA. Earlier in the week, California Governor Gavin Newsom issued a “Safer at Home” order to the entire state to help slow the spread of the Coronavirus as it sweeps across the world. (Kent Nishimura / Los Angeles Times) (Kent Nishimura/Kent Nishimura/Los Angeles Times)
“You’re going to look at possible mistrials … you’re going to look at defendants en masse asking to be released from custody,” said Laurie Levenson, a Loyola Law School professor and former federal prosecutor. “It’s unprecedented. You’re going to have to make some tough choices.”
PATCHWORK MEASURES
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In Department 30, the downtown criminal justice center’s often packed arraignment court, a tub of Clorox wipes was open on the desk where defense attorneys normally sit.
Next door, Judge Jose I. Sandoval began the day’s proceedings by sentencing Tyimere Hollinsworth to three years probation after he pleaded no contest to a drug possession count. But citing the pandemic, Sandoval postponed his date to report to probation to June 1.
“Maybe you haven’t heard of it,” Sandoval told the defendant of the coronavirus outbreak. “You will hear a good deal about it when you are out.”
Conditions seemed to vary by location. In Van Nuys last week, deputies allowed only two people at a time to enter the security area and limited courtroom access to attorneys, staff and defendants. People who had come to support their relatives were escorted to adjacent closed courts that had been turned into waiting rooms. Signs hung near elevators advising that no more than four people should enter each car.
But Meredith Gallen, a deputy public defender and a board member for the union representing them, said she saw “incredibly long lines” outside the Compton courthouse Friday. Plastic trays in the security line were not cleaned after they were handled by court visitors, she said.
“We have not been provided supplies by any county agency,” she said. “People bring in their own personal wipes and hand sanitizer to clean up court areas.”
Concern about the virus and its impact on court functions seemed to explode in recent days, as the number of infected persons in the state climbed toward 1,000. (There were over 1,400 cases in the state as of Saturday night, March 21.)
On March 11, L.A. County’s Presiding Judge Kevin Brazile canceled several retirement parties and seminars, according to a copy of a memo reviewed by The Times. A week later, he ordered the county’s courthouses to be shuttered for three days and froze all trials for a month, limiting court functions to what he deemed essential matters — including proceedings such as arraignments and timely criminal preliminary hearings.
Across the state, a patchwork of measures have been taken to address the pandemic’s impact on criminal justice. San Diego’s courts will operate on an extremely limited basis through April 3. In Alameda County, courts are closed until April 7 except for certain proceedings, like arraignments and hearings regarding restraining orders.
Orange County announced it would close its courts for 10 days starting March 17, but an attempt to host some proceedings in a Santa Ana courthouse this week descended into “complete chaos” that led many lawyers to fear for their own health.
Leaders of the nine unions whose members work at L.A. County courthouses — including sheriff’s deputies, court interpreters and public defenders — have implored Brazile to add trained staff to screen courthouse visitors, provide soap to those in custody at courthouses, and allow bailiffs to limit courtrooms to 10 people.
“It is irresponsible to allow the courts to resume as if it is ‘business as usual’ during this critical worldwide pandemic,” said the letter to Brazile. “We need to take action now in order to effectively protect the nearly 20,000 professionals who interact in these public buildings each day.”
Ann Donlan, spokeswoman for Los Angeles Superior Court, said, “The Court is reviewing the letter.”
On Saturday, the California District Attorney’s Assn. sent a letter to the state Supreme Court asking for a uniform set of rules to be instituted statewide regarding court practices. The letter, written by Alameda County Dist. Atty. Nancy E. O’Malley, asked for the top court to determine what an “essential function” is, and to give local presiding judges authority to continue delaying trials if the health emergency persists.
CALCULATING RISKS
On average, records show, L.A. County prosecutors filed 10,350 cases per year from 2010 to 2018. That figure is likely to fall. The number of arrests recorded by Los Angeles police and sheriff’s deputies has already fallen during the outbreak.
There have been no reported outbreaks in the county’s jails or among district attorney’s employees and their relatives, officials have said. But three LAPD employees were sickened by the virus last week, and a downtown L.A. federal holding center had to be cleared out and cleaned earlier this week after a prisoner began displaying symptoms of the virus, according to two people with knowledge of the situation who spoke on condition of anonymity.
A spokesman for the U.S. Marshal’s Service, which controls the federal lockup, did not provide additional information.
The district attorney’s office, sheriff’s department and public defender’s office are planning to review about 2,000 cases involving defendants currently in the county’s jails to see if they can be safely released ahead of trial due to the health crisis.
Additionally, Dist. Atty. Jackie Lacey has asked prosecutors to consider a defendant’s risk of exposure to the virus as a factor when arguing for a bail amount to be set. In an interview, Lacey said her office will prioritize prosecutions involving violent felons.
“It’s inevitable that some cases are going to be lost. They’re going to be dismissed, not filed, because we’re going to have to prioritize, right?” Lacey asked. “You’ll see prosecutors looking to settle cases more because we just can’t accept this volume that we’re looking at … but I think the important cases won’t be lost. They’ll be adjudicated, the serious cases.”
‘STRANGE TIMES’
On the 9th floor of the downtown courthouse Friday, Judge George Lomeli sighed, “strange times,” as he put on his robe and took the bench.
Anastacio Hernandez, 62, was shackled at the waist for what was supposed to be a sentencing hearing. Hernandez was convicted by a jury in January of assault with a deadly weapon.
His public defender, Ruchi Gupta, asked the judge to release him pending sentencing citing his age and health issues.
“Since he’s in custody, he’s exposed ... he’s in the age group where he’s most likely to develop the virus,” Gupta said, noting that the social distancing measures that the public must undertake were not possible behind bars.
The prosecutor objected to any release, and the judge was unswayed by the public defender’s plea. He noted there were no coronavirus infection cases in custody, and that public safety still called for Hernandez to remain in jail.
“The court is not inclined to release,” Lomeli said.
Many of the cases called Friday were continued to dates as far out as mid-June. Lacey said it is near impossible to predict how severe of a backlog the county’s court system will suffer. A number of highly anticipated trials, including the prosecution of Robert Durst, have already been delayed.
Going forward, Lacey said, the virus will have to be a factor in nearly any filing decision or plea deal her prosecutors make.
“If it’s serious, if somebody’s getting hurt, if it looks like something devastating is happening … then that’s going to get worked,” Lacey continued. “But if it’s something that can wait, it will.”
Some defendants downtown feared their health might come down to a judge’s discretion.
Robert Gallo, 54, sat nervously, fiddling with his glasses and wiping sweat off his brow. Gallo, who said he is homeless, was facing charges of welfare fraud. He denied the charges, and was terrified that the new accusation would trigger a probation violation and jail time.
Gallo did not have an attorney. When he was eventually approached by a public defender, she introduced herself from several feet away, wearing purple latex gloves.
“I hope you understand I have to keep my distance from you,” the defense attorney said.
Around 11 a.m., the judge called the case and asked Gallo to return on June 19. In the meantime, he was released on his own recognizance.
“Unbelievable,” Gallo said, relief washing over his face. “I can’t believe I’m going home.”
Times staff writer Nicole Santa Cruz contributed to this report.


latimes--2020-03-22--Teachers find many obstacles as they try to keep kids learning amid coronavirus

Misti Kemmer , a fourth-grade teacher at Russell Elementary School in South Los Angeles , is working hard to keep her students learning now that schools are closed .
She shares detailed lesson plans on Google Drive , sends messages to families every day and delivers YouTube lectures from her home .
But only three or four of her 28 students accessed their schoolwork last week , she said .
Some don ’ t have computers and others are without internet access .
One student can only open assignments on her father ’ s phone when he gets home from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to look at all this stuff on a tiny cellphone after dinner hours , ” Kemmer said .
“ How much is a 9- year-old going to get done ?
” “ There ’ s this whole distance-learning thing , but how much learning is actually going on ?
” she added .
Almost all K-12 schools in California were shuttered last week .
But from top state education leaders to district officials , including L.A. schools Supt .
Austin Beutner , the message has been clear : Even though campuses are closed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we are in very unique circumstances at this time , we are still providing education to our students , ” state Supt .
of Public Instruction Tony Thurmond said earlier this week .
“ School is not out , but we are finding a different way to deliver it.
” But the reality is complicated .
As teachers scramble to adjust to an entirely new world of education , they are coming up against significant barriers .
There is uneven access to technology , difficulties communicating with students and parents , and uncertainty @ @ @ @ @ @ @ families are suffering .
And even for educators who have long used online learning tools and whose students have easy access to them , it is challenging to rely solely on technology .
Many teachers are grappling with this while also adapting to the tough realities of working from home .
At Marianna Avenue Elementary School in East Los Angeles , teachers and administrators scrambled after the closure was announced March 13 to make sure every student in first through sixth grades took home a Chromebook laptop , said Estela Campos , a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is fortunate to have enough computers for nearly every student , she said .
But teachers are struggling to get their students online — some children had never used the computers at home and many families don ’ t have internet access .
In some cases , children in higher grades are now having to take care of their younger siblings while their parents work and are unable to dedicate time to their own schoolwork , she said .
As Campos and others at the school try to resolve some of those issues @ @ @ @ @ @ @ find ways to keep students engaged and feeling a part of the school community .
Starting Monday , teachers have planned for a virtual spirit week .
There will be a nature day , a crazy sock day and others .
They hope students will post photos to share with classmates .
But , she said , “ we don ’ t know how many of the families we ’ re really reaching.
” “ We ’ re just trying to do our best , ” she said .
“ We ’ re @ @ @ @ @ @ @ all learning.
” At Aspire Inskeep Academy , a K-6 charter school in South Los Angeles ’ Florence neighborhood , teachers and administrators have a long list of things to do before they can even begin offering new lessons .
They have been reaching out to families to figure out who has computers or other mobile devices and internet access .
Some families rely on public internet from the library or McDonald ’ s , but they can ’ t do that now with closures .
In the meantime , teachers have offered @ @ @ @ @ @ @ spring break , during the second week of April .
The packets don ’ t contain new information , said sixth-grade humanities teacher Claudia Castillo .
“ It ’ s to keep them engaged , it ’ s to keep them building on the skills that they ’ ve already learned , ” she said .
Castillo and sixth-grade math teacher Erica Marquez together have 59 students .
Of those , about 40 or their parents requested a packet , Castillo said .
On Monday teachers and administrators will start working on how @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Erin Fitzgerald-Haddad , a seventh-grade math teacher at the San Fernando Institute of Applied Media , a Los Angeles Unified school , has the know-how and resources to make a transition to distance learning smoother .
Fitzgerald-Haddad said teachers and students at her school were regularly using digital platforms like Schoology , an LAUSD learning management system , or Google Suites long before the closures last week .
The school was able to send all students home with an iPad or Chromebook , though some opted out , and the school put @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been posting daily videos .
Faculty are also checking in with students and monitoring their work online , she said .
Even with their expertise to quickly mobilize resources , though , Fitzgerald-Haddad has noticed differences in how students are adapting to distance learning .
“ Maybe it ’ s different at the high school level , but [ for ] eighth grade and younger , I do not believe it ’ s reasonable to expect students to be learning on their own , ” she said .
While some students are advanced @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the material on their own , the Schoology platform allows her to see that some aren ’ t keeping up .
“ The ones that really need the support , they ’ re the ones I ’ m having to make phone calls to , ” she said .
Maria Arienza , a North Hollywood High School Spanish and creative writing teacher , said students at her school were given a mobile device to take home if needed .
But she said she ’ s received little direction from the district or her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ deliver instruction remotely .
So she ’ s relied on coworkers to brainstorm ideas on how to plan online lessons .
Not all of her students have been in touch directly , but most are submitting assignments via Schoology , she said .
Despite some challenges , she said she still thinks the goals that school officials have set to continue learning going can be met .
“ I believe that they are attainable , they ’ re not crazy expectations , ” she said .
At Herrick Avenue Elementary in Sylmar , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ kindergarten and kindergarten .
After the closure was announced , the little ones went home with paper packets , and students whose families said they didn ’ t have a device to connect to the internet at home received one from the school .
Since then , Colvin uses a messaging app to communicate with parents almost daily .
She gave them all her cellphone number and access to her Facebook page and has repeatedly told them to reach out with any questions .
She also distributed a sample schedule and suggested students @ @ @ @ @ @ @ day , and she has recorded a video for the children almost every morning .
She sees that around 17 parents a day watch the videos , but only five have communicated with her or asked questions .
“ I have no idea what they ’ re doing , ” Colvin said .
“ I don ’ t think they ’ re all even checking .
I think some parents — maybe it ’ s just very overwhelming to them.
” Colvin is not assigning homework right now , and can ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ students would have access to ClassDojo , the messaging app she uses , if she tried to assign work .
One parent in her class who speaks Spanish may not understand the video messages , she said .
And while older students can use video conferencing to take classes , that ’ s not so easy for the the youngest of students , Colvin said .
“ I ’ m setting up Zoom — but I ’ m like , really , am I really going to teach a lesson to these little @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Asked if expectations from the state are meeting reality , she said : “ I think they ’ re doing something .
How do I know if it ’ s really learning that ’ s happening ?
I can ’ t prove that .
I want to assume they ’ re doing what they ’ re supposed to do that would then assist in their learning.
” “ It ’ s a hard place to be and we ’ re just trying to get through it , ” she added .
Genaro @ @ @ @ @ @ @ F. Hawkins High School in South Los Angeles , said he was eager to connect with his students this week , but doing so wasn ’ t easy .
It took him a few days to get permission from school officials to use a messaging app to reach them .
After getting the OK , he sent a message asking them to join a conference call Friday morning , using Schoology .
When students tried to join the call , some struggled to do so on their cellphones , which they rely on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ them to switch to a video conferencing app .
That worked , but by that point only eight out of 23 students were able to join .
Next Friday , Ulloa told his students , it will be mandatory for them to join the video conference .
He asked them to share that message with their peers and he spent part of the day calling parents to figure out what they needed so his students can get online .
Despite the challenges , Ulloa said he wants to “ find some sort of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
But , he added , “ it ’ s been a struggle .
”

Arit John, Sonali Kohli, Paloma Esquivel, Howard Blume

Kindergartener Meg Kramer does schoolwork at her home in San Anselmo, Calif., north of San Francisco on Wednesday.
Misti Kemmer, a fourth-grade teacher at Russell Elementary School in South Los Angeles, is working hard to keep her students learning now that schools are closed. She shares detailed lesson plans on Google Drive, sends messages to families every day and delivers YouTube lectures from her home.
But only three or four of her 28 students accessed their schoolwork last week, she said. Some don’t have computers and others are without internet access. One student can only open assignments on her father’s phone when he gets home from work.
“She’s trying to look at all this stuff on a tiny cellphone after dinner hours,” Kemmer said. “How much is a 9- year-old going to get done?”
“There’s this whole distance-learning thing, but how much learning is actually going on?” she added.
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Almost all K-12 schools in California were shuttered last week. But from top state education leaders to district officials, including L.A. schools Supt. Austin Beutner, the message has been clear: Even though campuses are closed, learning will continue.
“While we are in very unique circumstances at this time, we are still providing education to our students,” state Supt. of Public Instruction Tony Thurmond said earlier this week. “School is not out, but we are finding a different way to deliver it.”
But the reality is complicated.
As teachers scramble to adjust to an entirely new world of education, they are coming up against significant barriers.
There is uneven access to technology, difficulties communicating with students and parents, and uncertainty about expectations at a time when many families are suffering.
And even for educators who have long used online learning tools and whose students have easy access to them, it is challenging to rely solely on technology.
Many teachers are grappling with this while also adapting to the tough realities of working from home.
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At Marianna Avenue Elementary School in East Los Angeles, teachers and administrators scrambled after the closure was announced March 13 to make sure every student in first through sixth grades took home a Chromebook laptop, said Estela Campos, a coordinator at the school. The school is fortunate to have enough computers for nearly every student, she said.
But teachers are struggling to get their students online — some children had never used the computers at home and many families don’t have internet access. In some cases, children in higher grades are now having to take care of their younger siblings while their parents work and are unable to dedicate time to their own schoolwork, she said.
As Campos and others at the school try to resolve some of those issues, they’re also trying to find ways to keep students engaged and feeling a part of the school community. Starting Monday, teachers have planned for a virtual spirit week. There will be a nature day, a crazy sock day and others. They hope students will post photos to share with classmates.
But, she said, “we don’t know how many of the families we’re really reaching.”
“We’re just trying to do our best,” she said. “We’re at the point where we’re all learning.”
At Aspire Inskeep Academy, a K-6 charter school in South Los Angeles’ Florence neighborhood, teachers and administrators have a long list of things to do before they can even begin offering new lessons.
They have been reaching out to families to figure out who has computers or other mobile devices and internet access. Some families rely on public internet from the library or McDonald’s, but they can’t do that now with closures.
In the meantime, teachers have offered optional work packets to carry students through spring break, during the second week of April. The packets don’t contain new information, said sixth-grade humanities teacher Claudia Castillo.
“It’s to keep them engaged, it’s to keep them building on the skills that they’ve already learned,” she said.
Castillo and sixth-grade math teacher Erica Marquez together have 59 students. Of those, about 40 or their parents requested a packet, Castillo said.
On Monday teachers and administrators will start working on how to deliver new instruction, they said.
Erin Fitzgerald-Haddad, a seventh-grade math teacher at the San Fernando Institute of Applied Media, a Los Angeles Unified school, has the know-how and resources to make a transition to distance learning smoother.
Fitzgerald-Haddad said teachers and students at her school were regularly using digital platforms like Schoology, an LAUSD learning management system, or Google Suites long before the closures last week.
The school was able to send all students home with an iPad or Chromebook, though some opted out, and the school put together a YouTube channel where teachers have been posting daily videos. Faculty are also checking in with students and monitoring their work online, she said.
Even with their expertise to quickly mobilize resources, though, Fitzgerald-Haddad has noticed differences in how students are adapting to distance learning.
“Maybe it’s different at the high school level, but [for] eighth grade and younger, I do not believe it’s reasonable to expect students to be learning on their own,” she said.
While some students are advanced and will be able to pick up the material on their own, the Schoology platform allows her to see that some aren’t keeping up.
“The ones that really need the support, they’re the ones I’m having to make phone calls to,” she said.
Maria Arienza, a North Hollywood High School Spanish and creative writing teacher, said students at her school were given a mobile device to take home if needed.
But she said she’s received little direction from the district or her school’s administration on how to deliver instruction remotely. So she’s relied on coworkers to brainstorm ideas on how to plan online lessons.
Not all of her students have been in touch directly, but most are submitting assignments via Schoology, she said.
Despite some challenges, she said she still thinks the goals that school officials have set to continue learning going can be met.
“I believe that they are attainable, they’re not crazy expectations,” she said.
At Herrick Avenue Elementary in Sylmar, Jennifer Colvin teaches 23 children in transitional kindergarten and kindergarten. After the closure was announced, the little ones went home with paper packets, and students whose families said they didn’t have a device to connect to the internet at home received one from the school.
Since then, Colvin uses a messaging app to communicate with parents almost daily. She gave them all her cellphone number and access to her Facebook page and has repeatedly told them to reach out with any questions.
She also distributed a sample schedule and suggested students complete two pages of the packet a day, and she has recorded a video for the children almost every morning. She sees that around 17 parents a day watch the videos, but only five have communicated with her or asked questions.
“I have no idea what they’re doing,” Colvin said. “I don’t think they’re all even checking. I think some parents — maybe it’s just very overwhelming to them.”
Colvin is not assigning homework right now, and can’t say for sure that all of her students would have access to ClassDojo, the messaging app she uses, if she tried to assign work.
One parent in her class who speaks Spanish may not understand the video messages, she said. And while older students can use video conferencing to take classes, that’s not so easy for the the youngest of students, Colvin said.
“I’m setting up Zoom — but I’m like, really, am I really going to teach a lesson to these little kindergartners on Zoom?” Colvin said.
Asked if expectations from the state are meeting reality, she said: “I think they’re doing something. How do I know if it’s really learning that’s happening? I can’t prove that. I want to assume they’re doing what they’re supposed to do that would then assist in their learning.”
“It’s a hard place to be and we’re just trying to get through it,” she added.
Genaro Ulloa, a social science teacher Augustus F. Hawkins High School in South Los Angeles, said he was eager to connect with his students this week, but doing so wasn’t easy.
It took him a few days to get permission from school officials to use a messaging app to reach them. After getting the OK, he sent a message asking them to join a conference call Friday morning, using Schoology.
When students tried to join the call, some struggled to do so on their cellphones, which they rely on for internet access. So Ulloa asked them to switch to a video conferencing app. That worked, but by that point only eight out of 23 students were able to join.
Next Friday, Ulloa told his students, it will be mandatory for them to join the video conference. He asked them to share that message with their peers and he spent part of the day calling parents to figure out what they needed so his students can get online.
Despite the challenges, Ulloa said he wants to “find some sort of normalcy and expectations” for his students.
But, he added, “it’s been a struggle.”


latimes--2020-03-21--Newsom enlists Musk and Cook in coronavirus fight, moves California to 'targeted' testing

California ’ s battle to slow the spread of the novel coronavirus has been joined by some of the state ’ s most prominent technology companies , Gov .
Gavin Newsom said on Saturday , while its health officials are looking to pay new attention to what he called “ targeted ” testing of the state ’ s residents .
In an afternoon update , Newsom said the ramp-up of testing should include gauging the effectiveness of state and local efforts to get a handle on community-acquired infections .
“ We need to have , I think , a different @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Newsom said in a briefing streamed live on social media .
“ And that is smart testing , targeted testing .
And really delineate what is the purpose of testing.
” California , like other states hit hard by the COVID-19 pandemic , has seen a shortage of complete testing kits .
Those challenges have hindered the ability of public health officials to get an accurate assessment of the virus ’ spread .
Newsom , who said he has had encouraging conversations with President Trump on additional federal help , said coronavirus @ @ @ @ @ @ @ document the numbers of ailing state residents .
“ My team is no longer providing me just the number of people that have tested positive .
They ’ re equally weighting the number of people that have tested negative , ” Newsom said .
“ The bottom line for us is we want to know what the spread is .
We want to know if we ’ re bending the curve .
We want to know if our stay-at-home orders are effective.
” The governor pointed to efforts in Los Angeles , Orange @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as a form of what he called “ community surveillance ” to better understand local health conditions .
“ These were just broad random tests that were done with people that were otherwise young and healthy and thought they were perfectly healthy , ” Newsom said .
The results , he said , allowed health officials to improve their use of already scarce medical resources .
Newsom , who has made late afternoon or evening updates to Californians a semi-regular occurrence in recent days , also praised offers of help from tech industry @ @ @ @ @ @ @ state .
He said Tim Cook , chief executive officer of Apple , has pledged one million medical masks to be donated specifically to California ’ s coronavirus efforts .
And he said manufacturers in Los Angeles ’ garment district and in Northern California had reached out to sew additional masks if needed .
A key need in California and across the country is ventilators , necessary for some of the most serious COVID-19 patients , and the governor cited new efforts by two entrepreneurs to assist in producing the medical equipment .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Tesla , Inc. and Space X , has promised to use the supply chains that support his companies for help in assembling ventilators .
The governor also said that K.R .
Sridhar , the CEO of Bloom Energy , agreed to help quickly modernize some 200 older ventilators that the state has on hand .
The original manufacturer , Newsom said , had estimated doing so would take about a month .
“ K.R .
sent me a photo today , I ’ m not making this up , of 24 specific @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a few hours , ” the governor said .
“ You ’ re already seeing this manifest certainly in the state of California and I ’ ve got to imagine that it ’ s replicated in other parts of the country .
”

California’s battle to slow the spread of the novel coronavirus has been joined by some of the state’s most prominent technology companies, Gov. Gavin Newsom said on Saturday, while its health officials are looking to pay new attention to what he called “targeted” testing of the state’s residents.
In an afternoon update, Newsom said the ramp-up of testing should include gauging the effectiveness of state and local efforts to get a handle on community-acquired infections.
“We need to have, I think, a different conversation in this country around testing,” Newsom said in a briefing streamed live on social media. “And that is smart testing, targeted testing. And really delineate what is the purpose of testing.”
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California, like other states hit hard by the COVID-19 pandemic, has seen a shortage of complete testing kits. Those challenges have hindered the ability of public health officials to get an accurate assessment of the virus’ spread. Newsom, who said he has had encouraging conversations with President Trump on additional federal help, said coronavirus testing needs to do more than just document the numbers of ailing state residents.
“My team is no longer providing me just the number of people that have tested positive. They’re equally weighting the number of people that have tested negative,” Newsom said. “The bottom line for us is we want to know what the spread is. We want to know if we’re bending the curve. We want to know if our stay-at-home orders are effective.”
The governor pointed to efforts in Los Angeles, Orange and Santa Clara counties to use testing as a form of what he called “community surveillance” to better understand local health conditions.
“These were just broad random tests that were done with people that were otherwise young and healthy and thought they were perfectly healthy,” Newsom said.
The results, he said, allowed health officials to improve their use of already scarce medical resources.
Newsom, who has made late afternoon or evening updates to Californians a semi-regular occurrence in recent days, also praised offers of help from tech industry leaders and other business executives across the state. He said Tim Cook, chief executive officer of Apple, has pledged one million medical masks to be donated specifically to California’s coronavirus efforts. And he said manufacturers in Los Angeles’ garment district and in Northern California had reached out to sew additional masks if needed.
A key need in California and across the country is ventilators, necessary for some of the most serious COVID-19 patients, and the governor cited new efforts by two entrepreneurs to assist in producing the medical equipment. Newsom said that Elon Musk, CEO of Tesla, Inc. and Space X, has promised to use the supply chains that support his companies for help in assembling ventilators. The governor also said that K.R. Sridhar, the CEO of Bloom Energy, agreed to help quickly modernize some 200 older ventilators that the state has on hand. The original manufacturer, Newsom said, had estimated doing so would take about a month.
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“K.R. sent me a photo today, I’m not making this up, of 24 specific ventilators that he got done in just a few hours,” the governor said. “You’re already seeing this manifest certainly in the state of California and I’ve got to imagine that it’s replicated in other parts of the country.”