BY SHERMAN SMITH <a href="https://kansasreflector.com/2021/03/26/court-record-shows-kansas-senate-majority-leader-drove-90-mph-evaded-roadblock/">Kansas Reflector</a>

TOPEKA — Senate Majority 
Leader Gene Suellentrop was charged Friday with drunk driving and felony
 fleeing from police while traveling 90 mph in the wrong direction on 
Interstate 70 in Topeka.

The complaint filed in 
district court by the Shawnee County District Attorney’s Office 
indicates the early morning escapade on March 16 ended after Suellentrop
 “willfully failed or refused” to stop for police.

The Wichita Republican was
 stopped by Kansas Highway Patrol officers after several 911 callers 
reported he was driving on the wrong side of the interstate. He was 
released from jail after a judge determined there was a problem with the
 arrest report.

The next day, Suellentrop announced he was <a href="https://kansasreflector.com/2021/03/17/kansas-senate-majority-leader-hands-off-duties-a-day-after-drunk-driving-arrest/">transferring leadership duties</a> to an assistant while resolving his legal matters.

He now faces a level nine 
felony for fleeing or attempting to elude a police officer, misdemeanor 
charges of driving under the influence and reckless driving, and traffic
 infractions for driving the wrong way on a divided highway and 
speeding.

The complaint says he was 
driving 90 mph in a 65 mph zone. His blood alcohol level was over the 
legal limit of .08, but the complaint doesn’t specify the exact reading.

The felony charge 
indicates he “failed to stop for a police roadblock, drove around a tire
 deflating device placed by a police officer, engaged in reckless 
driving, was involved in a motor vehicle accident, intentionally caused 
damage to property” and eluded capture. District Attorney Mike Kagay 
said Saturday the complaint uses standard language that reflects 
different ways the prosecutor can prove the charge and is not a comment 
on the evidence in the case.

Suellentrop was booked Friday into Shawnee County Jail and released after posting $5,000 bond.

Senate President Ty 
Masterson and Vice President Rick Wilborn issued a joint statement 
saying they have reached out to the GOP Senate caucus about “how to 
proceed most effectively” after learning of Suellentrop’s charges.

“The complaint’s 
allegations are very serious, and we trust the legal process will ensure
 due process and a just resolution,” Masterson and Wilborn said. “We are
 thankful that no one was injured, and we continue to pray for Gene and 
his family.”

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/3/1616963919848.png" alt="Senate Majority Leader Gene Suellentrop, R-Wichita, transferred his leadership duties on March 17, a day after he was arrested and released. (Sherman Smith/Kansas Reflector)" />
 <figcaption>Senate Majority Leader Gene Suellentrop, R-Wichita, transferred his leadership duties on March 17, a day after he was arrested and released. (Sherman Smith/Kansas Reflector)</figcaption>
 </figure>BY SHERMAN SMITH <a href="https://kansasreflector.com/2021/03/26/court-record-shows-kansas-senate-majority-leader-drove-90-mph-evaded-roadblock/">Kansas Reflector</a>TOPEKA — Senate Majority 
Leader Gene Suellentrop was charged Friday with drunk driving and felony
 fleeing from police while traveling 90 mph in the wrong direction on 
Interstate 70 in Topeka.The complaint filed in 
district court by the Shawnee County District Attorney’s Office 
indicates the early morning escapade on March 16 ended after Suellentrop
 “willfully failed or refused” to stop for police.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/3/1616963978358.jpeg" alt="Senate Majority Leader Gene Suellentrop was booked Friday into Shawnee County Jail and released after posting $5,000 bond. (Shawnee County Jail)" />
 <figcaption>Senate Majority Leader Gene Suellentrop was booked Friday into Shawnee County Jail and released after posting $5,000 bond. (Shawnee County Jail)</figcaption>
 </figure>The Wichita Republican was
 stopped by Kansas Highway Patrol officers after several 911 callers 
reported he was driving on the wrong side of the interstate. He was 
released from jail after a judge determined there was a problem with the
 arrest report.The next day, Suellentrop announced he was <a href="https://kansasreflector.com/2021/03/17/kansas-senate-majority-leader-hands-off-duties-a-day-after-drunk-driving-arrest/">transferring leadership duties</a> to an assistant while resolving his legal matters.He now faces a level nine 
felony for fleeing or attempting to elude a police officer, misdemeanor 
charges of driving under the influence and reckless driving, and traffic
 infractions for driving the wrong way on a divided highway and 
speeding.The complaint says he was 
driving 90 mph in a 65 mph zone. His blood alcohol level was over the 
legal limit of .08, but the complaint doesn’t specify the exact reading.The felony charge 
indicates he “failed to stop for a police roadblock, drove around a tire
 deflating device placed by a police officer, engaged in reckless 
driving, was involved in a motor vehicle accident, intentionally caused 
damage to property” and eluded capture. District Attorney Mike Kagay 
said Saturday the complaint uses standard language that reflects 
different ways the prosecutor can prove the charge and is not a comment 
on the evidence in the case.Suellentrop was booked Friday into Shawnee County Jail and released after posting $5,000 bond.Senate President Ty 
Masterson and Vice President Rick Wilborn issued a joint statement 
saying they have reached out to the GOP Senate caucus about “how to 
proceed most effectively” after learning of Suellentrop’s charges.“The complaint’s 
allegations are very serious, and we trust the legal process will ensure
 due process and a just resolution,” Masterson and Wilborn said. “We are
 thankful that no one was injured, and we continue to pray for Gene and 
his family.”

Record: Kan. Senate majority leader drove 90 mph in wrong direction

CHICAGO (AP) — On federal death row, prisoners fling notes on a string under each other’s cell doors and converse through interconnected air ducts. A top issue these days: whether President Joe Biden will halt executions, several told The Associated Press.

Biden hasn’t spoken publicly&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/joe-biden-us-news-pandemics-health-coronavirus-pandemic-ad6b1681aaf4128aa5e3ca0e94672e45">about capital punishment</a>&nbsp;since taking office four days after the Trump administration&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/donald-trump-wildlife-coronavirus-pandemic-crime-terre-haute-28e44cc5c026dc16472751bbde0ead50">executed the last of 13 inmates</a>&nbsp;at the Terre Haute, Indiana, penitentiary where all federal death row inmates are held. The six-month run of executions cut their unit from around 63 to 50. Biden’s campaign website said&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/joe-biden-prisons-inaugurations-coronavirus-pandemic-executions-365258989e6be8d7077b2f67d8c3e190">he’d work to end federal executions</a>, but he’s never specified how.

Four inmates exchanged emails with the AP through a prison-monitored system they access during the two hours a day they are let out of their 12-by-7-foot, single-inmate cells. Biden’s silence has them on edge, wondering whether political calculations will lead him to back off far-reaching action, like commuting their sentences to life in prison and endorsing legislation striking capital punishment from U.S. statutes.

“There’s not a day that goes by that we’re not scanning the news for hints of when or if the Biden administration will take meaningful action to implement his promises,” said 36-year-old Rejon Taylor, sentenced to death in 2008 for killing an Atlanta restaurant owner.

Everyone on federal death row was convicted of killing someone, their victims often suffering brutal, painful deaths. The dead included children, bank workers and prison guards. One inmate,&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/ba912545b5dc40729c80328d598ac550">white supremacist Dylann Roof</a>, killed nine Black members of a South Carolina church during a Bible study in 2015. Many Americans believe death is the only salve for such crimes.

Views of&nbsp;<a href="https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2018/06/11/us-support-for-death-penalty-ticks-up-2018/" target="_blank">capital punishment</a>, though, are shifting. One&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/discrimination-racial-injustice-united-states-archive-race-and-ethnicity-ded1f517a0fd64bf1d55c448a06acccc/gallery/acd0f206fc1e4058b6bceb96afced4c0">recent report</a>&nbsp;found people of color are overrepresented on death rows nationwide. Some 40% of federal death row inmates are Black, compared with about 13% of the U.S. population. With growing scrutiny of who gets sentenced to die and why, support for the death penalty has waned, and&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/68b0dd3c252940a69729cf9480610988">fewer executions are done overall</a>. Virginia lawmakers recently&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/virginia-death-penalty-repeal-governor-c98c16a996037a4d1e1d497787b7e6f1">voted to abolish it</a>.

The death row prisoners expressed relief at&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/donald-trump-leaves-white-house-ad718c0048c341d0044c4709fb23c8dd">Donald Trump’s departure from the White House</a>&nbsp;after he presided over more federal executions than any other president in 130 years. Gone is the ever-present fear that guards would appear at their cell door to say the warden needed to speak to them — dreaded words that meant your execution had been scheduled.

They described death row as a close-knit community where bonds are forged. All said they were still reeling from seeing friends escorted away for&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/executioners-sanitized-accounts-of-death-25d133f59039150c2e308ba1a2a5caef">execution by lethal injection</a>&nbsp;at a garage-size building nearby.

“When it’s quiet here, which it often is, you’ll hear someone say, ‘Damn, I can’t believe they’re gone!’ We all know what they are referencing,” said Daniel Troya, sentenced in 2009 for participating in drug-related killings of a Florida man, his wife and their two children.

The federal executions during&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/hub/coronavirus-pandemic">the coronavirus pandemic</a>&nbsp;were likely&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/public-health-prisons-health-coronavirus-pandemic-executions-9c355b58c78492613eedbf1c7c1fb42c">superspreader events</a>. In December, 70% of the death row inmates had COVID-19, some possibly infected via air ducts through which they communicate.

The AP attended all 13 federal executions.

Five of the first six inmates executed were white. Six of the last seven were Black, including Dustin Higgs, the final inmate put to death, on Jan. 16 for ordering the killing of three Maryland women.

Memories of speaking to Higgs just before his execution still pain Sherman Fields, who is on death row but has a resentencing for convictions in the killing of his girlfriend after escaping from a jail in Waco, Texas.

“He kept saying he’s innocent and he didn’t want to die,” Fields, 46, said. “He’s my friend. It was very hard.”

While there were rumors Biden would take action on the death penalty in his first days as president, there have been no announcements. As he grapples with issues like the coronavirus and the economy, capital punishment appears to be on a back burner.&nbsp;<a href="https://www.justice.gov/usao-wdky/pr/death-penalty-sought-murder-fort-campbell-soldier" target="_blank">Meanwhile, federal prosecutors are still saying</a>&nbsp;they’ll pursue death sentences.

Even if he’d hoped to, Biden can’t set aside the death penalty issue entirely. It came up Monday&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/court-could-reimpose-dzhokhar-tsarnaev-death-sentence-719087dcbe7145514094fe3c7da8d9bf">when the Supreme Court</a>&nbsp;said it will consider a request — first made by the Trump administration — to reinstate the death sentence for Boston Marathon bomber Dzhokhar Tsarnaev that a lower court tossed in July. The Biden administration could chose to say the government no longer opposes the lower court decision, though that, like everything with the death penalty, would undoubtedly create controversy.

The easiest step politically for Biden would be to simply instruct his Justice Department not to carry out any executions during his presidency. That would spare inmates’ lives for at least four years but would leave the door open for a future president to resume them.

The inmates first learned federal executions would restart after 17 years in 2019 when the first inmates were put on execution lists. More were added throughout 2020.

Through last year, inmates would flinch whenever they heard the jangle of thick key rings as a larger-than-normal contingent of guards entered their floor. That sound meant guards would soon stop at an inmate’s door and that he’d soon be in the warden’s office to be handed his death warrant.

When a frantic&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/d758efe397b4443b22c79e2bfc65df84">Keith Nelson</a>, convicted of raping and killing a Kansas girl, kept saying a year ago he was sure he’d be selected next to die, one inmate yelled at him to “shut up,” that he was unnerving everyone else, Troya recalled. Nelson was executed on Aug. 28.

Emotions ran high as execution days approached. As guards led condemned men away, other inmates shouted, “Come on! Fight ’em!” Troya said. None appeared to resist.

Inmates can’t access the regular internet but could follow news of last-minute appeals on TVs in their cells. When broadcasts confirmed an execution had been carried out, Taylor said, a hush fell on death row, followed by a chorus of curses.

Inmates know that Biden, while a senator, played a key role in passing&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/ae20ddaea4b51e57b5d7eff0f0c9ffcb">a 1994 crime bill</a>&nbsp;that increased federal crimes for which someone could be put to death.

“I don’t trust Biden,” Troya said. “He set the rules to get us all here in the first place.”

Several inmates said Brandon Bernard’s death was especially hard to process. They described him as introspective and kind. Bernard, convicted of participating in the Texas carjacking, robbery and killing of an Iowa couple, also organized a death-row crocheting group that shared patterns and knitting tips.

“The gentlest guy on federal death row,” Fields said.

<a href="https://apnews.com/article/joe-biden-donald-trump-race-and-ethnicity-prisons-killeen-13044e3f1ab9e0e140c57d8012b67abb">Bernard’s case</a>&nbsp;drew the attention of reality TV star Kim Kardashian and other celebrities, who pleaded on Twitter for Trump to commute his sentence.

His lawyers said Bernard, 18 at the time and the lowest-ranking member of a street gang, was pressured to light a car on fire with Todd and Stacie Bagley’s bodies inside. They said he believed the Bagleys were already dead after a gang leader shot them in the head.

He and co-defendant Christopher Vialva, both of whom were Black, were convicted by a nearly all-white Texas jury in 2000.

Strapped to a cross-shaped gurney on Dec. 10, Bernard addressed the couple’s relatives in an adjoining death-chamber witness room, repeatedly apologizing and telling them he hoped his death would bring them closure.

After his execution, Todd Bagley’s mother called the killings an “act of unnecessary evil.” She said the executions of Bernard and of Vialva months earlier did bring closure. But she also expressed gratitude to both for apologizing. Beginning to cry, she told reporters: “I can very much say — I forgive them.”

Troya said he thinks often about Bernard, Vialva and Higgs, whom he considered close friends. All three, he said, had long since transformed themselves into better people and were mentoring other inmates.

“They killed future prison role models,” he said. “So much potential, lost for nothing.”

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2020/8/1598525494909.png" alt="Keith Dwayne Nelson convicted of killing a Kansas girl was the fifth federal inmate put to death in 2020 -photo Wyandotte Co." />
 <figcaption>Keith Dwayne Nelson convicted of killing a Kansas girl was the fifth federal inmate put to death in 2020 -photo Wyandotte Co.</figcaption>
 </figure>CHICAGO (AP) — On federal death row, prisoners fling notes on a string under each other’s cell doors and converse through interconnected air ducts. A top issue these days: whether President Joe Biden will halt executions, several told The Associated Press.Biden hasn’t spoken publicly&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/joe-biden-us-news-pandemics-health-coronavirus-pandemic-ad6b1681aaf4128aa5e3ca0e94672e45">about capital punishment</a>&nbsp;since taking office four days after the Trump administration&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/donald-trump-wildlife-coronavirus-pandemic-crime-terre-haute-28e44cc5c026dc16472751bbde0ead50">executed the last of 13 inmates</a>&nbsp;at the Terre Haute, Indiana, penitentiary where all federal death row inmates are held. The six-month run of executions cut their unit from around 63 to 50. Biden’s campaign website said&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/joe-biden-prisons-inaugurations-coronavirus-pandemic-executions-365258989e6be8d7077b2f67d8c3e190">he’d work to end federal executions</a>, but he’s never specified how.Four inmates exchanged emails with the AP through a prison-monitored system they access during the two hours a day they are let out of their 12-by-7-foot, single-inmate cells. Biden’s silence has them on edge, wondering whether political calculations will lead him to back off far-reaching action, like commuting their sentences to life in prison and endorsing legislation striking capital punishment from U.S. statutes.“There’s not a day that goes by that we’re not scanning the news for hints of when or if the Biden administration will take meaningful action to implement his promises,” said 36-year-old Rejon Taylor, sentenced to death in 2008 for killing an Atlanta restaurant owner.Everyone on federal death row was convicted of killing someone, their victims often suffering brutal, painful deaths. The dead included children, bank workers and prison guards. One inmate,&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/ba912545b5dc40729c80328d598ac550">white supremacist Dylann Roof</a>, killed nine Black members of a South Carolina church during a Bible study in 2015. Many Americans believe death is the only salve for such crimes.Views of&nbsp;<a href="https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2018/06/11/us-support-for-death-penalty-ticks-up-2018/" target="_blank">capital punishment</a>, though, are shifting. One&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/discrimination-racial-injustice-united-states-archive-race-and-ethnicity-ded1f517a0fd64bf1d55c448a06acccc/gallery/acd0f206fc1e4058b6bceb96afced4c0">recent report</a>&nbsp;found people of color are overrepresented on death rows nationwide. Some 40% of federal death row inmates are Black, compared with about 13% of the U.S. population. With growing scrutiny of who gets sentenced to die and why, support for the death penalty has waned, and&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/68b0dd3c252940a69729cf9480610988">fewer executions are done overall</a>. Virginia lawmakers recently&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/virginia-death-penalty-repeal-governor-c98c16a996037a4d1e1d497787b7e6f1">voted to abolish it</a>.The death row prisoners expressed relief at&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/donald-trump-leaves-white-house-ad718c0048c341d0044c4709fb23c8dd">Donald Trump’s departure from the White House</a>&nbsp;after he presided over more federal executions than any other president in 130 years. Gone is the ever-present fear that guards would appear at their cell door to say the warden needed to speak to them — dreaded words that meant your execution had been scheduled.They described death row as a close-knit community where bonds are forged. All said they were still reeling from seeing friends escorted away for&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/executioners-sanitized-accounts-of-death-25d133f59039150c2e308ba1a2a5caef">execution by lethal injection</a>&nbsp;at a garage-size building nearby.“When it’s quiet here, which it often is, you’ll hear someone say, ‘Damn, I can’t believe they’re gone!’ We all know what they are referencing,” said Daniel Troya, sentenced in 2009 for participating in drug-related killings of a Florida man, his wife and their two children.The federal executions during&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/hub/coronavirus-pandemic">the coronavirus pandemic</a>&nbsp;were likely&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/public-health-prisons-health-coronavirus-pandemic-executions-9c355b58c78492613eedbf1c7c1fb42c">superspreader events</a>. In December, 70% of the death row inmates had COVID-19, some possibly infected via air ducts through which they communicate.The AP attended all 13 federal executions.Five of the first six inmates executed were white. Six of the last seven were Black, including Dustin Higgs, the final inmate put to death, on Jan. 16 for ordering the killing of three Maryland women.Memories of speaking to Higgs just before his execution still pain Sherman Fields, who is on death row but has a resentencing for convictions in the killing of his girlfriend after escaping from a jail in Waco, Texas.“He kept saying he’s innocent and he didn’t want to die,” Fields, 46, said. “He’s my friend. It was very hard.”While there were rumors Biden would take action on the death penalty in his first days as president, there have been no announcements. As he grapples with issues like the coronavirus and the economy, capital punishment appears to be on a back burner.&nbsp;<a href="https://www.justice.gov/usao-wdky/pr/death-penalty-sought-murder-fort-campbell-soldier" target="_blank">Meanwhile, federal prosecutors are still saying</a>&nbsp;they’ll pursue death sentences.Even if he’d hoped to, Biden can’t set aside the death penalty issue entirely. It came up Monday&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/court-could-reimpose-dzhokhar-tsarnaev-death-sentence-719087dcbe7145514094fe3c7da8d9bf">when the Supreme Court</a>&nbsp;said it will consider a request — first made by the Trump administration — to reinstate the death sentence for Boston Marathon bomber Dzhokhar Tsarnaev that a lower court tossed in July. The Biden administration could chose to say the government no longer opposes the lower court decision, though that, like everything with the death penalty, would undoubtedly create controversy.The easiest step politically for Biden would be to simply instruct his Justice Department not to carry out any executions during his presidency. That would spare inmates’ lives for at least four years but would leave the door open for a future president to resume them.The inmates first learned federal executions would restart after 17 years in 2019 when the first inmates were put on execution lists. More were added throughout 2020.Through last year, inmates would flinch whenever they heard the jangle of thick key rings as a larger-than-normal contingent of guards entered their floor. That sound meant guards would soon stop at an inmate’s door and that he’d soon be in the warden’s office to be handed his death warrant.When a frantic&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/d758efe397b4443b22c79e2bfc65df84">Keith Nelson</a>, convicted of raping and killing a Kansas girl, kept saying a year ago he was sure he’d be selected next to die, one inmate yelled at him to “shut up,” that he was unnerving everyone else, Troya recalled. Nelson was executed on Aug. 28.Emotions ran high as execution days approached. As guards led condemned men away, other inmates shouted, “Come on! Fight ’em!” Troya said. None appeared to resist.Inmates can’t access the regular internet but could follow news of last-minute appeals on TVs in their cells. When broadcasts confirmed an execution had been carried out, Taylor said, a hush fell on death row, followed by a chorus of curses.Inmates know that Biden, while a senator, played a key role in passing&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/ae20ddaea4b51e57b5d7eff0f0c9ffcb">a 1994 crime bill</a>&nbsp;that increased federal crimes for which someone could be put to death.“I don’t trust Biden,” Troya said. “He set the rules to get us all here in the first place.”Several inmates said Brandon Bernard’s death was especially hard to process. They described him as introspective and kind. Bernard, convicted of participating in the Texas carjacking, robbery and killing of an Iowa couple, also organized a death-row crocheting group that shared patterns and knitting tips.“The gentlest guy on federal death row,” Fields said.<a href="https://apnews.com/article/joe-biden-donald-trump-race-and-ethnicity-prisons-killeen-13044e3f1ab9e0e140c57d8012b67abb">Bernard’s case</a>&nbsp;drew the attention of reality TV star Kim Kardashian and other celebrities, who pleaded on Twitter for Trump to commute his sentence.His lawyers said Bernard, 18 at the time and the lowest-ranking member of a street gang, was pressured to light a car on fire with Todd and Stacie Bagley’s bodies inside. They said he believed the Bagleys were already dead after a gang leader shot them in the head.He and co-defendant Christopher Vialva, both of whom were Black, were convicted by a nearly all-white Texas jury in 2000.Strapped to a cross-shaped gurney on Dec. 10, Bernard addressed the couple’s relatives in an adjoining death-chamber witness room, repeatedly apologizing and telling them he hoped his death would bring them closure.After his execution, Todd Bagley’s mother called the killings an “act of unnecessary evil.” She said the executions of Bernard and of Vialva months earlier did bring closure. But she also expressed gratitude to both for apologizing. Beginning to cry, she told reporters: “I can very much say — I forgive them.”Troya said he thinks often about Bernard, Vialva and Higgs, whom he considered close friends. All three, he said, had long since transformed themselves into better people and were mentoring other inmates.“They killed future prison role models,” he said. “So much potential, lost for nothing.”

On federal death row, inmates talk about Biden, executions

OMAHA, Neb. (AP) — Wary regulators have not approved a major railroad merger since the 1990s, but industry analysts say Canadian Pacific’s proposed $25 billion acquisition of Kansas City Southern has a good chance of getting the green light because there is little overlap between the two lines.

The deal is also set to capitalize on growing trade across North America by creating the first railroad that would link the United States, Mexico and Canada. Executives at the companies say those opportunities should help the combined railroad generate more revenue.

The Canadian Pacific-Kansas City Southern deal announced Sunday would combine the two smallest of the major railroads into one entity. Independent railroad analyst Tony Hatch said doing that should help stabilize the industry overall and should not lead to another round of railroad mergers.

Some, however, are already expressing concern that the combination of the two railroads could hurt shippers if they are left with fewer options.

“The freight rail industry is already highly consolidated with a small number of railroads controlling most of the rail traffic in the United States and we are concerned that this merger could potentially lead to a greater concentration of market power,” said Scott Jensen, a spokesman for the chemicals industry trade group American Chemistry Council.

The service problems and economic damage that followed railroad mergers in the 1990s are part of why regulators adopted tough rules for major railroad mergers in 2001. Regulators have said that, generally, any merger involving a major railroad must enhance competition and serve the public interest. Similar deals are blocked in other industries only if there is a risk that competition will be reduced.

Canadian Pacific and Kansas City Southern said they expect U.S. railroad regulators at the Surface Transportation Board to complete their review of the deal by around the middle of 2022. A spokesman for the board didn’t immediately respond Monday to questions about how the deal will be reviewed.

Morningstar analyst Matthew Young said he doesn’t think the proposed deal will hurt competition overall because the railroads don’t compete directly now.

“These rails generally don’t compete head to head in specific markets, thus a merger shouldn’t result in fewer rail-service options for shippers in most corridors,” Young said Monday in a research note.

Edward Jones analyst Jeff Windau said he thinks there is a good chance the deal will be approved by regulators.

“There’s really no overlap on their lines. So I think there is really minimal impact on customers,” Windau said.

Executives at both the railroads argue that customers will be helped, not hurt, by the combination because they’ll be able to ship goods throughout North America without having to have shipments handed off between railroads.

“There’s savings across the board and benefits across the board that are so compelling,” Canadian Pacific CEO Keith Creel said. As railroad customers learn about the deal, “I think they are going to be excited by this — not threatened by this.”

Five years ago, Calgary, Alberta-based Canadian Pacific abandoned its roughly $30 billion attempt to takeover rival Norfolk Southern after it encountered strong opposition from Norfolk Southern, politicians, rail customers along the route and other railroads. So the new rules for railroad mergers still haven’t been tested.

But unlike then, the boards of both Kansas City Southern and Canadian Pacific unanimously backed this deal. The combined company would operate about 20,000 miles of railway, employ 20,000 people and generate annual revenue of about $8.7 billion. Both railroads said they expect to add jobs overall across the combined network as volume grows.

The deal values Kansas City Southern at $275 per share, which represents a significant premium to Friday’s closing price of $224. Kansas City Southern shareholders will receive 0.489 shares of Canadian Pacific stock and $90 cash as part of the deal, and they will control roughly 25% of the combined company.

The railroads said this deal is timed well because Mexico, the United States and Canada agreed to a new regional trade pact last year that is expected to boost trade and investment across North America.

Officials said Kansas City Southern’s base in Kansas City, Missouri, would become Canadian Pacific Kansas City’s new U.S. headquarters after the deal but Canadian Pacific’s current U.S. headquarters in Minneapolis and St. Paul, Minnesota, will remain an important base of operations for the company.

OMAHA, Neb. (AP) — Wary regulators have not approved a major railroad merger since the 1990s, but industry analysts say Canadian Pacific’s proposed $25 billion acquisition of Kansas City Southern has a good chance of getting the green light because there is little overlap between the two lines.The deal is also set to capitalize on growing trade across North America by creating the first railroad that would link the United States, Mexico and Canada. Executives at the companies say those opportunities should help the combined railroad generate more revenue.The Canadian Pacific-Kansas City Southern deal announced Sunday would combine the two smallest of the major railroads into one entity. Independent railroad analyst Tony Hatch said doing that should help stabilize the industry overall and should not lead to another round of railroad mergers.Some, however, are already expressing concern that the combination of the two railroads could hurt shippers if they are left with fewer options.“The freight rail industry is already highly consolidated with a small number of railroads controlling most of the rail traffic in the United States and we are concerned that this merger could potentially lead to a greater concentration of market power,” said Scott Jensen, a spokesman for the chemicals industry trade group American Chemistry Council.The service problems and economic damage that followed railroad mergers in the 1990s are part of why regulators adopted tough rules for major railroad mergers in 2001. Regulators have said that, generally, any merger involving a major railroad must enhance competition and serve the public interest. Similar deals are blocked in other industries only if there is a risk that competition will be reduced.Canadian Pacific and Kansas City Southern said they expect U.S. railroad regulators at the Surface Transportation Board to complete their review of the deal by around the middle of 2022. A spokesman for the board didn’t immediately respond Monday to questions about how the deal will be reviewed.Morningstar analyst Matthew Young said he doesn’t think the proposed deal will hurt competition overall because the railroads don’t compete directly now.“These rails generally don’t compete head to head in specific markets, thus a merger shouldn’t result in fewer rail-service options for shippers in most corridors,” Young said Monday in a research note.Edward Jones analyst Jeff Windau said he thinks there is a good chance the deal will be approved by regulators.“There’s really no overlap on their lines. So I think there is really minimal impact on customers,” Windau said.Executives at both the railroads argue that customers will be helped, not hurt, by the combination because they’ll be able to ship goods throughout North America without having to have shipments handed off between railroads.“There’s savings across the board and benefits across the board that are so compelling,” Canadian Pacific CEO Keith Creel said. As railroad customers learn about the deal, “I think they are going to be excited by this — not threatened by this.”Five years ago, Calgary, Alberta-based Canadian Pacific abandoned its roughly $30 billion attempt to takeover rival Norfolk Southern after it encountered strong opposition from Norfolk Southern, politicians, rail customers along the route and other railroads. So the new rules for railroad mergers still haven’t been tested.But unlike then, the boards of both Kansas City Southern and Canadian Pacific unanimously backed this deal. The combined company would operate about 20,000 miles of railway, employ 20,000 people and generate annual revenue of about $8.7 billion. Both railroads said they expect to add jobs overall across the combined network as volume grows.The deal values Kansas City Southern at $275 per share, which represents a significant premium to Friday’s closing price of $224. Kansas City Southern shareholders will receive 0.489 shares of Canadian Pacific stock and $90 cash as part of the deal, and they will control roughly 25% of the combined company.The railroads said this deal is timed well because Mexico, the United States and Canada agreed to a new regional trade pact last year that is expected to boost trade and investment across North America.Officials said Kansas City Southern’s base in Kansas City, Missouri, would become Canadian Pacific Kansas City’s new U.S. headquarters after the deal but Canadian Pacific’s current U.S. headquarters in Minneapolis and St. Paul, Minnesota, will remain an important base of operations for the company.

KC railroad deal seen more likely to gain regulators’ OK

KANSAS CITY (AP) — His last job was selling cars, but in his new gig, working to turn the tide against a pandemic, Herman Simmons knows not to be too pushy or overbearing.

He’s one of more than 50 outreach workers a Chicago hospital has enlisted to promote vaccination against COVID-19 in hard-hit Black and brown neighborhoods.

Their job is approaching strangers at laundromats, grocery stores and churches,&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/how-do-we-know-covid-19-vaccines-safe-b688bd470d2eb8a74953dd34d29fd756">handing out educational material</a>&nbsp;and making vaccination appointments for those who are willing.

“I see myself as my brother’s keeper. I don’t try to force them. I’m persistent,” he said.

Top U.S. health officials say they’re in a race to vaccinate as many people as quickly as possible as COVID-19 variants spread, mask and distancing rules are relaxed, and Americans crave a return to normalcy.

As part of these efforts, the Biden administration announced Thursday it will invest nearly $10 billion to expand vaccine access in communities of color, rural areas, low-income populations and other underserved communities. Some of the money will go to community health centers. Funding comes mostly from the American Rescue Plan.

While the U.S. is vaccinating roughly 2.5 million people daily and nearly 1 in 3 adults have received at least one shot, roughly that many say they are skeptical or won’t get vaccinated.

“There will be a hard core that never want to be vaccinated and we can’t do anything about that,” said Dr. Eric Toner, a senior scholar at Johns Hopkins Center for Health Security.

He said that number is unlikely to prevent effective control of the virus. To make sure it doesn’t, authorities are working to change minds and boost access in minority communities where skepticism is among the hurdles to vaccination.

They’re showcasing Black leaders getting shots, preaching vaccination benefits at Sunday services, holding Zoom meetings where experts dismantle the myths. Michigan is enlisting barber shops and salons. Mobile clinics have been set up to vaccinate Kentucky racetrack workers and California migrant workers.

In the socially distanced age of COVID-19, the in-the-trenches work of regular folk-turned-recruiters stands out.

Simmons is Black, amiable and talkative — a natural for this kind of work.

“I tell ’em I was a little afraid at first” about getting the shots, said Simmons, who quit the car dealership when co-workers got sick with the virus. He tells them he has friends and family members who’ve died, and how easy it is to sign up.

“I would like to say that I get more sign-ins than not,” Simmons said, “but I don’t think that’s the case.’’

“They don’t trust it. Some think the vaccines were made too quickly to be safe,” he said. “They feel like lab rats.”

That’s a common narrative. But it’s not the whole story.

For many Black people, mistrust of medical institutions is deep-seated. Their reasons are varied, vehement and often valid. And they don’t even start with Tuskegee, the U.S. government study that began in 1932 and withheld treatment for Black men with syphilis.

Mistrust stems from surgeries on enslaved women to the absence of Black people in studies that guide modern-day medical decisions. It includes mistaken assumptions claiming race-based biological differences, and disrespect in the doctor’s office.

Some are afraid of needles. Some believe internet myths. And some say they intend to get vaccinated but want to wait and see how others fare first. For some, the problem is no transportation to vaccination sites, no internet to get information on where and when to get vaccinated, or no regular physician. However, the shots are free and you don’t need a doctor to get them.

Some U.S. polls and statistics show hesitancy in some communities of color is falling, though vaccination rates are still highest among white people. In Chicago, the gap has narrowed but rates for first doses are 36% white people, 30% Hispanic people and 24% Black people.

On a chilly March Saturday, his battleground was a laundromat in a working-class neighborhood southwest of downtown Chicago. Saint Anthony Hospital had set up a makeshift center where recruits gathered as outreach workers took down contact information and arranged appointments.

Masked and carrying a folder of vaccine information, Simmons approached Tasha McClinton, 34, a stylish Black woman with long blond tresses pulling clothes from an orange duffel bag and heaving them into a washer.

His shirt was the first pitch, emblazoned with the words, “It’s Worth the Shot,” and an image of a syringe. Next he offered to sign her up. McClinton shook her head no and listed her reasons.

She hasn’t been sick, she said, and no one in her family has gotten COVID-19. “It might cause me to have complications,” she added. Simmons accepted that and walked away.

But he returned a few minutes later, apologizing “if I caught you off guard,” and told her: “I was just really interested in why you aren’t interested.’’ She said she doesn’t trust the shots and declined his pamphlets.

“You don’t want to be really pushy,” Simmons said later. “You got to be a good judge of character too.’’

C.B. Johnson, who runs a Chicago drug recovery group in the Black neighborhood where he grew up, is helping people there get vaccinated. He said that insider cred helps. So does patience.

“We deal with a lot of people that a lot of people don’t want to deal with,” Johnson said. “We’re able to give them the option to say, ‘Hey, if you want to do it we can get you there, but if you don’t, we will still be here when you decide that you want to.‘’’

“When you listen to what their concerns are and you hear them out and you validate their concerns, and then you come back and explain to them, ‘Hey, look, I mean what happens if you catch COVID? Would you rather have the vaccine that helps you?’”

Community activist Debra Stanley helps lead a support group for former drug users and ex-offenders in South Bend, Indiana. Vaccination was the topic at a recent meeting, and skeptics spoke up.

When Goodwill employee Sonya Chandler mentioned seeing social media posts about weird vaccine side effects, Darryl McKinney, an Air Force vet, whipped out his cellphone and read Centers for Disease Control and Prevention information aloud.

Stanley gently chided in responding: “Darryl got his information from CDC, you got yours from Facebook. Know your sources.”

Still, McKinney said he doesn’t trust the U.S. government and won’t get vaccinated.

“Last time I was at my barber, a few guys were talking about it,” McKinney said. “We’re not going to be guinea pigs.’’

Stanley said she’s not out to twist arms.

“Our whole thing is staying abreast of all the information and making sure the latest gets to the people,” she said. “We don’t ever believe it’s our role to promote a decision. It is our role to ensure that people have the best information when they get ready to make their decision.’’

Chandler said later that the meeting “made me more aware. Now I’m looking at it as, well, I may as well get the shot because it will help the rest of the community to not get sick.”

Back at the Chicago laundromat, Simmons scored a win with Theopulis Polk, a 62-year-old demolition worker he approached on the sidewalk. The gray-bearded Black man readily agreed to sign up. Inside, he retrieved a wad of dog-eared paper scraps from the pocket of his faded green coveralls, fumbling to find the one where his phone number was scrawled.

“I’ve been wanting to get vaccinated but I don’t have no primary doctor,” Polk said. He said he knows people who’ve died from COVID-19, and works around people who don’t wear masks. He lives in this neighborhood, so getting to the vaccination site at nearby Saint Anthony’s won’t be difficult.

“I’m scared of needles. I hate to get any kind of shots. But you have to,” Polk said. “I’m not worried because I’ve got God on my side.’’

KANSAS CITY (AP) — His last job was selling cars, but in his new gig, working to turn the tide against a pandemic, Herman Simmons knows not to be too pushy or overbearing.He’s one of more than 50 outreach workers a Chicago hospital has enlisted to promote vaccination against COVID-19 in hard-hit Black and brown neighborhoods.Their job is approaching strangers at laundromats, grocery stores and churches,&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/how-do-we-know-covid-19-vaccines-safe-b688bd470d2eb8a74953dd34d29fd756">handing out educational material</a>&nbsp;and making vaccination appointments for those who are willing.“I see myself as my brother’s keeper. I don’t try to force them. I’m persistent,” he said.Top U.S. health officials say they’re in a race to vaccinate as many people as quickly as possible as COVID-19 variants spread, mask and distancing rules are relaxed, and Americans crave a return to normalcy.As part of these efforts, the Biden administration announced Thursday it will invest nearly $10 billion to expand vaccine access in communities of color, rural areas, low-income populations and other underserved communities. Some of the money will go to community health centers. Funding comes mostly from the American Rescue Plan.While the U.S. is vaccinating roughly 2.5 million people daily and nearly 1 in 3 adults have received at least one shot, roughly that many say they are skeptical or won’t get vaccinated.“There will be a hard core that never want to be vaccinated and we can’t do anything about that,” said Dr. Eric Toner, a senior scholar at Johns Hopkins Center for Health Security.He said that number is unlikely to prevent effective control of the virus. To make sure it doesn’t, authorities are working to change minds and boost access in minority communities where skepticism is among the hurdles to vaccination.They’re showcasing Black leaders getting shots, preaching vaccination benefits at Sunday services, holding Zoom meetings where experts dismantle the myths. Michigan is enlisting barber shops and salons. Mobile clinics have been set up to vaccinate Kentucky racetrack workers and California migrant workers.In the socially distanced age of COVID-19, the in-the-trenches work of regular folk-turned-recruiters stands out.Simmons is Black, amiable and talkative — a natural for this kind of work.“I tell ’em I was a little afraid at first” about getting the shots, said Simmons, who quit the car dealership when co-workers got sick with the virus. He tells them he has friends and family members who’ve died, and how easy it is to sign up.Sometimes it’s a tough sell.“I would like to say that I get more sign-ins than not,” Simmons said, “but I don’t think that’s the case.’’“They don’t trust it. Some think the vaccines were made too quickly to be safe,” he said. “They feel like lab rats.”That’s a common narrative. But it’s not the whole story.For many Black people, mistrust of medical institutions is deep-seated. Their reasons are varied, vehement and often valid. And they don’t even start with Tuskegee, the U.S. government study that began in 1932 and withheld treatment for Black men with syphilis.Mistrust stems from surgeries on enslaved women to the absence of Black people in studies that guide modern-day medical decisions. It includes mistaken assumptions claiming race-based biological differences, and disrespect in the doctor’s office.Some are afraid of needles. Some believe internet myths. And some say they intend to get vaccinated but want to wait and see how others fare first. For some, the problem is no transportation to vaccination sites, no internet to get information on where and when to get vaccinated, or no regular physician. However, the shots are free and you don’t need a doctor to get them.Some U.S. polls and statistics show hesitancy in some communities of color is falling, though vaccination rates are still highest among white people. In Chicago, the gap has narrowed but rates for first doses are 36% white people, 30% Hispanic people and 24% Black people.Simmons is on a mission to change that.On a chilly March Saturday, his battleground was a laundromat in a working-class neighborhood southwest of downtown Chicago. Saint Anthony Hospital had set up a makeshift center where recruits gathered as outreach workers took down contact information and arranged appointments.Masked and carrying a folder of vaccine information, Simmons approached Tasha McClinton, 34, a stylish Black woman with long blond tresses pulling clothes from an orange duffel bag and heaving them into a washer.His shirt was the first pitch, emblazoned with the words, “It’s Worth the Shot,” and an image of a syringe. Next he offered to sign her up. McClinton shook her head no and listed her reasons.She hasn’t been sick, she said, and no one in her family has gotten COVID-19. “It might cause me to have complications,” she added. Simmons accepted that and walked away.But he returned a few minutes later, apologizing “if I caught you off guard,” and told her: “I was just really interested in why you aren’t interested.’’ She said she doesn’t trust the shots and declined his pamphlets.“You don’t want to be really pushy,” Simmons said later. “You got to be a good judge of character too.’’C.B. Johnson, who runs a Chicago drug recovery group in the Black neighborhood where he grew up, is helping people there get vaccinated. He said that insider cred helps. So does patience.“We deal with a lot of people that a lot of people don’t want to deal with,” Johnson said. “We’re able to give them the option to say, ‘Hey, if you want to do it we can get you there, but if you don’t, we will still be here when you decide that you want to.‘’’“When you listen to what their concerns are and you hear them out and you validate their concerns, and then you come back and explain to them, ‘Hey, look, I mean what happens if you catch COVID? Would you rather have the vaccine that helps you?’”Community activist Debra Stanley helps lead a support group for former drug users and ex-offenders in South Bend, Indiana. Vaccination was the topic at a recent meeting, and skeptics spoke up.When Goodwill employee Sonya Chandler mentioned seeing social media posts about weird vaccine side effects, Darryl McKinney, an Air Force vet, whipped out his cellphone and read Centers for Disease Control and Prevention information aloud.Stanley gently chided in responding: “Darryl got his information from CDC, you got yours from Facebook. Know your sources.”Still, McKinney said he doesn’t trust the U.S. government and won’t get vaccinated.“Last time I was at my barber, a few guys were talking about it,” McKinney said. “We’re not going to be guinea pigs.’’Stanley said she’s not out to twist arms.“Our whole thing is staying abreast of all the information and making sure the latest gets to the people,” she said. “We don’t ever believe it’s our role to promote a decision. It is our role to ensure that people have the best information when they get ready to make their decision.’’Chandler said later that the meeting “made me more aware. Now I’m looking at it as, well, I may as well get the shot because it will help the rest of the community to not get sick.”Back at the Chicago laundromat, Simmons scored a win with Theopulis Polk, a 62-year-old demolition worker he approached on the sidewalk. The gray-bearded Black man readily agreed to sign up. Inside, he retrieved a wad of dog-eared paper scraps from the pocket of his faded green coveralls, fumbling to find the one where his phone number was scrawled.“I’ve been wanting to get vaccinated but I don’t have no primary doctor,” Polk said. He said he knows people who’ve died from COVID-19, and works around people who don’t wear masks. He lives in this neighborhood, so getting to the vaccination site at nearby Saint Anthony’s won’t be difficult.“I’m scared of needles. I hate to get any kind of shots. But you have to,” Polk said. “I’m not worried because I’ve got God on my side.’’

Vaccination race enlists grassroots aides to fight mistrust

TOPEKA—Law enforcement authorities are investigating a shooting and asking the public for help to locate a person on interest in the case.

Just before 9p.m. Saturday, police&nbsp;responded to a report of a possible shooting in the parking lot of Skinny’s Bar, 4016 SW Huntoon Street in Topeka, according to Lt. Shane Hilton. One victim transported themselves to a local hospital with non-life threatening injuries. When officers arrived, they learned that an altercation inside of the bar spilled out into the parking lot where the shooting occurred.

The Topeka Police Department is seeking the public’s assistance in locating Misty M. Lake, 35, of Topeka, in connection with the incident. Anyone with information about Lake’s location, including past sightings is asked to call police. 

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/3/1616944014824.png" alt="Lake photo Topeka Police" />
 <figcaption>Lake photo Topeka Police</figcaption>
 </figure>TOPEKA—Law enforcement authorities are investigating a shooting and asking the public for help to locate a person on interest in the case.Just before 9p.m. Saturday, police&nbsp;responded to a report of a possible shooting in the parking lot of Skinny’s Bar, 4016 SW Huntoon Street in Topeka, according to Lt. Shane Hilton. One victim transported themselves to a local hospital with non-life threatening injuries. When officers arrived, they learned that an altercation inside of the bar spilled out into the parking lot where the shooting occurred.The Topeka Police Department is seeking the public’s assistance in locating Misty M. Lake, 35, of Topeka, in connection with the incident. Anyone with information about Lake’s location, including past sightings is asked to call police.

Police want to locate Kan. woman after shooting outside bar

DETROIT (AP) — A federal judge in Michigan should have blocked a Trump administration&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/6c1af80fb290472c89fb930e223505af">ban on bump stocks</a>, a device that allows semiautomatic firearms to fire rapidly, an appeals court said Thursday.

The ban came in response to a 2017 shooting in Las Vegas in which a gunman attached bump stocks to assault-style rifles to shoot concertgoers from his hotel room.

The prohibition came in the form of a regulation from the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, which treated bump stocks as if they are illegal machine guns. But the court, in a 2-1 decision, said changes in criminal law are up to Congress.

“It is not the role of the executive — particularly the unelected administrative state — to dictate to the public what is right and what is wrong,” said judges Alice Batchelder and Eric Murphy of the 6th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals.

The court also said a bump stock doesn’t qualify as a machine gun.

“This is great news,” said Erich Pratt, senior vice president of Virginia-based Gun Owners of America.

In 2019, U.S. District Judge Paul Maloney in western Michigan turned down an injunction that would have stopped the bump stock ban. The case now will return to his court.

Gun owner groups “are likely to prevail on the merits and ... their motion for an injunction should have been granted,” the appeals court said.

Decisions from the 6th Circuit set legal precedent in federal courts in Michigan, Ohio, Tennessee and Kentucky.

There have been different opinions about the bump stock ban in federal courts across the country, which makes it a strong candidate for review by the U.S. Supreme Court. A year ago, the Supreme Court&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/36d807ad9ea481fc88c7f679dbfa1857">turned down</a>&nbsp;an appeal, but it was a procedural step in a case that wasn’t fully developed.

“Waiting should not be mistaken for lack of concern,” Justice Neil Gorsuch said at the time.

DETROIT (AP) — A federal judge in Michigan should have blocked a Trump administration&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/6c1af80fb290472c89fb930e223505af">ban on bump stocks</a>, a device that allows semiautomatic firearms to fire rapidly, an appeals court said Thursday.The ban came in response to a 2017 shooting in Las Vegas in which a gunman attached bump stocks to assault-style rifles to shoot concertgoers from his hotel room.The prohibition came in the form of a regulation from the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, which treated bump stocks as if they are illegal machine guns. But the court, in a 2-1 decision, said changes in criminal law are up to Congress.“It is not the role of the executive — particularly the unelected administrative state — to dictate to the public what is right and what is wrong,” said judges Alice Batchelder and Eric Murphy of the 6th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals.The court also said a bump stock doesn’t qualify as a machine gun.“This is great news,” said Erich Pratt, senior vice president of Virginia-based Gun Owners of America.In 2019, U.S. District Judge Paul Maloney in western Michigan turned down an injunction that would have stopped the bump stock ban. The case now will return to his court.Gun owner groups “are likely to prevail on the merits and ... their motion for an injunction should have been granted,” the appeals court said.Decisions from the 6th Circuit set legal precedent in federal courts in Michigan, Ohio, Tennessee and Kentucky.There have been different opinions about the bump stock ban in federal courts across the country, which makes it a strong candidate for review by the U.S. Supreme Court. A year ago, the Supreme Court&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/36d807ad9ea481fc88c7f679dbfa1857">turned down</a>&nbsp;an appeal, but it was a procedural step in a case that wasn’t fully developed.“Waiting should not be mistaken for lack of concern,” Justice Neil Gorsuch said at the time.___

Court deals blow to nationwide bump stock ban

SEDGWICK COUNTY —Law enforcement authorities are investigating an Ohio man on sex crime allegations.

Investigators learned that 46-year-old Michael Taylor had traveled to Wichita from Ohio on March 22nd to meet with a 15-year-old girl, according to officer Trevor Macey. 

Taylor and the girl had been communicating on an internet platform and agreed to meet in Wichita at a local hotel. 

The mother of the 15- year-old contacted Wichita State University police upon realizing that the child was missing. Wichita State Police conducted a check, at which point the child was located on the campus of Wichita State University, accompanied by Taylor. 

After police located them, they took Taylor into custody and Wichita State University Police Officers transported both to the Exploited and Missing Child Unit for interviews.

At the time of the incident, it was determined that there was no relationship between Wichita State University and either of the persons involved, according to Macey. At no time was there any threat to the campus community.

The investigation revealed that Taylor had engaged in unlawful sexual activity, and numerous electronic devices were seized from Taylor’s hotel room. 

Further investigation is ongoing into multiple violations of state and federal law. The Federal Bureau of Investigation is currently investigating with the assistance of the local agencies. The case has been turned over to the United States Attorney’s Office.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/3/1616791691617.png" alt="Taylor photo Sedgwick County" />
 <figcaption>Taylor photo Sedgwick County</figcaption>
 </figure>SEDGWICK COUNTY —Law enforcement authorities are investigating an Ohio man on sex crime allegations.Investigators learned that 46-year-old Michael Taylor had traveled to Wichita from Ohio on March 22nd to meet with a 15-year-old girl, according to officer Trevor Macey. Taylor and the girl had been communicating on an internet platform and agreed to meet in Wichita at a local hotel. The mother of the 15- year-old contacted Wichita State University police upon realizing that the child was missing. Wichita State Police conducted a check, at which point the child was located on the campus of Wichita State University, accompanied by Taylor. After police located them, they took Taylor into custody and Wichita State University Police Officers transported both to the Exploited and Missing Child Unit for interviews.At the time of the incident, it was determined that there was no relationship between Wichita State University and either of the persons involved, according to Macey. At no time was there any threat to the campus community.The investigation revealed that Taylor had engaged in unlawful sexual activity, and numerous electronic devices were seized from Taylor’s hotel room. Further investigation is ongoing into multiple violations of state and federal law. The Federal Bureau of Investigation is currently investigating with the assistance of the local agencies. The case has been turned over to the United States Attorney’s Office.

Police: Man traveled to Kansas for sex with 15-year-old

SALEM, S.D. (AP) — After a swastika and racial slur were spray-painted on a Black man’s car in Salem, South Dakota, the sheriff’s office is investigating the incident as a hate crime. 

Josh Gadsden says he woke up early Thursday to find his Dodge Charger spray painted with racist symbols, including the N-word, a swastika and what he said appeared to be the Confederate flag, KELO-TV reported.

 Gadsden, who has lived in Salem for five years, says that this is not the first time he has experienced racism. 

The McCook County Sheriff’s office says if the perpetrator is caught they would face felony vandalism and hate crime charges.

SALEM, S.D. (AP) — After a swastika and racial slur were spray-painted on a Black man’s car in Salem, South Dakota, the sheriff’s office is investigating the incident as a hate crime. Josh Gadsden says he woke up early Thursday to find his Dodge Charger spray painted with racist symbols, including the N-word, a swastika and what he said appeared to be the Confederate flag, KELO-TV reported. Gadsden, who has lived in Salem for five years, says that this is not the first time he has experienced racism. The McCook County Sheriff’s office says if the perpetrator is caught they would face felony vandalism and hate crime charges.

Police investigating a hate crime in South Dakota town

NEMAHA COUNTY- A Kansas volunteer firefighter has been arrested and charged with two counts of arson following an investigation by the Nemaha County Sheriff’s Office, the Seneca Police Department and the Office of the State Fire Marshal.

David M. Frehe, 40, Seneca, is accused of setting&nbsp; a fire at a vacant home in Seneca on May 1, 2019, according to Nemaha County Attorney Brad Lippert.&nbsp; He is also charged in connection with setting a pasture fire in rural Nemaha County on Nov. 4, 2020.

On March 22 authorities arrested Frehe. He was released after posting a $10,000 bond.&nbsp; His first appearance in court is scheduled for April 27, according to the district attorney's office.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/3/1616620035869.png" alt="Frehe photo Nemaha County" />
 <figcaption>Frehe photo Nemaha County</figcaption>
 </figure>NEMAHA COUNTY- A Kansas volunteer firefighter has been arrested and charged with two counts of arson following an investigation by the Nemaha County Sheriff’s Office, the Seneca Police Department and the Office of the State Fire Marshal.David M. Frehe, 40, Seneca, is accused of setting&nbsp; a fire at a vacant home in Seneca on May 1, 2019, according to Nemaha County Attorney Brad Lippert.&nbsp; He is also charged in connection with setting a pasture fire in rural Nemaha County on Nov. 4, 2020.On March 22 authorities arrested Frehe. He was released after posting a $10,000 bond.&nbsp; His first appearance in court is scheduled for April 27, according to the district attorney's office.

Kan. volunteer firefighter accused of setting fires

SHAWNEE COUNTY—Law enforcement authorities are investigating a fatal shooting and have identified the victim&nbsp; as 39-year-old Kristi A. Rodriguez of Chanute, according to Topeka Police Lt. Shane Hilton. The other two victims are expected to recover from their injuries.

Police are also asking for help to locate two suspect in connection with the shooting. Anyone with information on 28-year-old Devonta B. Miller of Topeka, or 21-year-old Harlee E. Borders of Marysville should contact police.

Just before 10:30 p.m. Friday the Shawnee County Emergency Communications Center started receiving calls about a possible shooting in the 3100 block of SE Bryant, according Lt. Matt Danielson.

 Officers arrived and located a crime scene. Two people were located inside of a home suffering from apparent gunshot wounds. 

Rodriguez was pronounced dead at the scene, while the other was transported by officers to a local hospital with life threatening injuries. 

A third individual received injuries as a result of the incident, and was transported by AMR to a local hospital with non-life threatening injuries. 

SHAWNEE COUNTY—Law enforcement authorities are investigating a Friday evening shooting that left one person dead and two others injured.

Just before 10:30 p.m. the Shawnee County Emergency Communications Center started receiving calls about a possible shooting in the 3100 block of SE Bryant, according Lt. Matt Danielson.

One of those individuals was pronounced dead at the scene, while the other was transported by officers to a local hospital with life threatening injuries. 

Officers also located a two-vehicle accident at the intersection of SE 31st and SE Adams. Homicide detectives were investigating both scenes to determine if they are connected.

Due to the size of these crime scenes, police asked the public to avoid the areas while they were processed.&nbsp;

Police have not released name of the victim or reported an arrest.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/3/1616878094022.png" alt="Devonta B. Miller, 28, Topeka" />
 <figcaption>Devonta B. Miller, 28, Topeka</figcaption>
 </figure>SHAWNEE COUNTY—Law enforcement authorities are investigating a fatal shooting and have identified the victim&nbsp; as 39-year-old Kristi A. Rodriguez of Chanute, according to Topeka Police Lt. Shane Hilton. The other two victims are expected to recover from their injuries.Police are also asking for help to locate two suspect in connection with the shooting. Anyone with information on 28-year-old Devonta B. Miller of Topeka, or 21-year-old Harlee E. Borders of Marysville should contact police.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/3/1616878072385.png" alt="Harlee E. Borders, 21, Marysville" />
 <figcaption>Harlee E. Borders, 21, Marysville</figcaption>
 </figure>Just before 10:30 p.m. Friday the Shawnee County Emergency Communications Center started receiving calls about a possible shooting in the 3100 block of SE Bryant, according Lt. Matt Danielson. Officers arrived and located a crime scene. Two people were located inside of a home suffering from apparent gunshot wounds. Rodriguez was pronounced dead at the scene, while the other was transported by officers to a local hospital with life threatening injuries. A third individual received injuries as a result of the incident, and was transported by AMR to a local hospital with non-life threatening injuries. ---------------SHAWNEE COUNTY—Law enforcement authorities are investigating a Friday evening shooting that left one person dead and two others injured.Just before 10:30 p.m. the Shawnee County Emergency Communications Center started receiving calls about a possible shooting in the 3100 block of SE Bryant, according Lt. Matt Danielson. Officers arrived and located a crime scene. Two people were located inside of a home suffering from apparent gunshot wounds. One of those individuals was pronounced dead at the scene, while the other was transported by officers to a local hospital with life threatening injuries. A third individual received injuries as a result of the incident, and was transported by AMR to a local hospital with non-life threatening injuries. Officers also located a two-vehicle accident at the intersection of SE 31st and SE Adams. Homicide detectives were investigating both scenes to determine if they are connected.Due to the size of these crime scenes, police asked the public to avoid the areas while they were processed.&nbsp;Police have not released name of the victim or reported an arrest.

Police search for suspects: 1 dead, 2 injured in Kan. shooting

OMAHA, Neb. (AP) - Two people were killed in a shooting early Saturday in Omaha, authorities say.

Police said in a news release that officers rushed to the scene around 3 a.m. in response to gunfire.&nbsp;

Police found two men with gunshot wounds - 27-year-old Loklok Thok and 24-year-old Duop Tang Deng.

One was declared dead at the scene, and the other was transported to the Nebraska Medical Center where he was declared dead.

No suspect information was provided. Police are asking the public for tips.

OMAHA, Neb. (AP) - Two people were killed in a shooting early Saturday in Omaha, authorities say.Police said in a news release that officers rushed to the scene around 3 a.m. in response to gunfire.&nbsp;Police found two men with gunshot wounds - 27-year-old Loklok Thok and 24-year-old Duop Tang Deng.One was declared dead at the scene, and the other was transported to the Nebraska Medical Center where he was declared dead.No suspect information was provided. Police are asking the public for tips.

2 men killed in Omaha shooting; police ask public for tips 

By CHRISTINE FERNANDO-Associated Press

Stephen Seals stood onstage waiting to be auctioned off. Moments later, a white slave auctioneer pointed a gun at one of the other Black men gathered with Seals, and a Black mother cried for her children.

The scene, titled "What Holds the Future," was Seals' first scripted piece at Colonial Williamsburg, an immersive living-history museum in Williamsburg, Virginia, where costumed interpreters of history reenact scenes from the colonial past and portray figures from that period.

"Every time you did this piece, it hurt," said Seals, an actor-interpreter and community outreach and program development manager at the site.

After the scene, the actors would spend 15 minutes checking in with each other. Sometimes they cried together. Sometimes they sat in silence.

As historic sites like Colonial Williamsburg are working to be more racially inclusive, many actor-interpreters of color say they appreciate the efforts. But it's a weighty and often painful experience to portray enslaved people or others who lived through the racism of the past. The work of getting into character has them exploring difficult parts of history, and once they step back into the real world they still are confronted with current-day racism.

"I can take off the costume," said Deirdre Jones Cardwell, programming lead for the actor-interpreters at Williamsburg. "But I can't take off my Blackness."

Sharing stories of Colonial Williamsburg's residents of color is a relatively new phenomenon in the site's nearly 90-year history. It wasn't until 1979 when the museum began telling Black stories, and not until 2002 that it launched its American Indian Initiative. Even in recent years, interpreters say the stories of Black and Native American people haven't always gotten adequate programming slots, advertising and research support.

"There was a point in Colonial Williamsburg's history that interpreters weren't allowed to talk about slavery," Jones Cardwell said. "We've come a long way since that, but there's a long way to go."

Lately, Colonial Williamsburg expanded recruitment efforts and outreach to historically Black colleges and universities, partnered with local groups like the city's historic First Baptist Church, and set aside time monthly for employees of color to meet. Last year, the site launched unconscious bias training for senior leadership and plans for diversity training for all employees this year.

Similar efforts are underway at the Stuhr Museum of the Prairie Pioneer, in Grand Island, Nebraska, where a new permanent exhibit tells the story of a once-enslaved Black man who became one of the area's most prominent physicians. The museum is also partnering with a local multicultural coalition to explore the stories of 12 Black families who settled in northwest Nebraska in the 1880s.

But executive director Chris Hochstetler says more must be done. He estimates only 1% to 3% of the Stuhr's costumed interpreters are people of color. When he arrived at the museum in February 2020, Hochstetler "realized we needed to ask ourselves some serious questions about whether we are representing our community fully."

As the nation reckons with racism after high-profile police brutality cases last year, Jones Cardwell says Black interpreters are feeling more empowered to push for inclusive programming and hiring. But she says much of the burden has fallen on the shoulders of employees of color.

She is grateful for the moments she has out of character. During breaks, she does breathing exercises or prays. When she researches or teaches about the racial violence of the colonial era, she thinks of headlines of Black people being killed by police today.

"The more that you learn about this history, the heavier it feels," she said. "We're still dealing with ripples from the past."

Actor-interpreter Mary Carter takes off her costume whenever she can.

"Mentally, I can't be in those clothes any longer than I have to," she said.

"But," she added, "even when they come off, I can't put racism away."

As Carter talks to guests about a 1705 law referring to biracial people as "an abominable mixture," she is aware of the racism she's faced herself as a mixed-race Black woman. It took years for her to realize the toll the work was taking, she says, and managers didn't fully understand. So she leaned on Black colleagues, a therapist and Black women in the museum field.

Interpreters of color are often racially harassed by site visitors, and sexual abuse - physical and verbal - is common, especially against Black women, said Cheyney McKnight, a historical interpreter and founder of Not Your Momma's History, an organization that helps historical sites develop inclusive programs. McKnight has begged managers to have security guards nearby. At times, speaking with hostile guests has left her in tears.

"It was like feeding me to the wolves every day," said McKnight, who has worked with over 45 historical sites.

Talon Silverhorn, a Colonial Williamsburg American Indian interpreter and member of the Eastern Shawnee Tribe of Oklahoma, doesn't portray a specific person. Instead, he shows up to work as himself and teaches guests about his tribe's history. But even that takes an emotional toll.

Some guests have told him that the colonists should have completely wiped out Native Americans. In training, interpreters are taught to detach themselves from the stories they tell, but Silverhorn says that for interpreters of color, "there's only so much of that that can be done."

Last year, Silverhorn started going to therapy, which Colonial Williamsburg covers. It's helped, but he said there's still more work to do.

Novella Nimmo, education coordinator and actor-interpreter at the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center in Cincinnati, often portrays her own great-grandmother, who was born into slavery.

"It's draining but it's also uplifting," she said. "You're telling a story that America wants to forget. You're telling the story of your ancestors, who were never able to tell their stories. That's what keeps me going. I remember their strength, and that gives me strength."

Interpreters of color also would like to see white interpreters get more training on the histories of communities of color.

McKnight advocates for support groups, hazard pay and full therapy coverage for interpreters of color.

"The job of Black interpreters is different," McKnight said. "And we need different support."

By CHRISTINE FERNANDO-Associated Press Stephen Seals stood onstage waiting to be auctioned off. Moments later, a white slave auctioneer pointed a gun at one of the other Black men gathered with Seals, and a Black mother cried for her children.The scene, titled "What Holds the Future," was Seals' first scripted piece at Colonial Williamsburg, an immersive living-history museum in Williamsburg, Virginia, where costumed interpreters of history reenact scenes from the colonial past and portray figures from that period."Every time you did this piece, it hurt," said Seals, an actor-interpreter and community outreach and program development manager at the site.After the scene, the actors would spend 15 minutes checking in with each other. Sometimes they cried together. Sometimes they sat in silence.As historic sites like Colonial Williamsburg are working to be more racially inclusive, many actor-interpreters of color say they appreciate the efforts. But it's a weighty and often painful experience to portray enslaved people or others who lived through the racism of the past. The work of getting into character has them exploring difficult parts of history, and once they step back into the real world they still are confronted with current-day racism."I can take off the costume," said Deirdre Jones Cardwell, programming lead for the actor-interpreters at Williamsburg. "But I can't take off my Blackness."Sharing stories of Colonial Williamsburg's residents of color is a relatively new phenomenon in the site's nearly 90-year history. It wasn't until 1979 when the museum began telling Black stories, and not until 2002 that it launched its American Indian Initiative. Even in recent years, interpreters say the stories of Black and Native American people haven't always gotten adequate programming slots, advertising and research support."There was a point in Colonial Williamsburg's history that interpreters weren't allowed to talk about slavery," Jones Cardwell said. "We've come a long way since that, but there's a long way to go."Lately, Colonial Williamsburg expanded recruitment efforts and outreach to historically Black colleges and universities, partnered with local groups like the city's historic First Baptist Church, and set aside time monthly for employees of color to meet. Last year, the site launched unconscious bias training for senior leadership and plans for diversity training for all employees this year.Similar efforts are underway at the Stuhr Museum of the Prairie Pioneer, in Grand Island, Nebraska, where a new permanent exhibit tells the story of a once-enslaved Black man who became one of the area's most prominent physicians. The museum is also partnering with a local multicultural coalition to explore the stories of 12 Black families who settled in northwest Nebraska in the 1880s.But executive director Chris Hochstetler says more must be done. He estimates only 1% to 3% of the Stuhr's costumed interpreters are people of color. When he arrived at the museum in February 2020, Hochstetler "realized we needed to ask ourselves some serious questions about whether we are representing our community fully."As the nation reckons with racism after high-profile police brutality cases last year, Jones Cardwell says Black interpreters are feeling more empowered to push for inclusive programming and hiring. But she says much of the burden has fallen on the shoulders of employees of color.She is grateful for the moments she has out of character. During breaks, she does breathing exercises or prays. When she researches or teaches about the racial violence of the colonial era, she thinks of headlines of Black people being killed by police today."The more that you learn about this history, the heavier it feels," she said. "We're still dealing with ripples from the past."Actor-interpreter Mary Carter takes off her costume whenever she can."Mentally, I can't be in those clothes any longer than I have to," she said."But," she added, "even when they come off, I can't put racism away."As Carter talks to guests about a 1705 law referring to biracial people as "an abominable mixture," she is aware of the racism she's faced herself as a mixed-race Black woman. It took years for her to realize the toll the work was taking, she says, and managers didn't fully understand. So she leaned on Black colleagues, a therapist and Black women in the museum field.Interpreters of color are often racially harassed by site visitors, and sexual abuse - physical and verbal - is common, especially against Black women, said Cheyney McKnight, a historical interpreter and founder of Not Your Momma's History, an organization that helps historical sites develop inclusive programs. McKnight has begged managers to have security guards nearby. At times, speaking with hostile guests has left her in tears."It was like feeding me to the wolves every day," said McKnight, who has worked with over 45 historical sites.Talon Silverhorn, a Colonial Williamsburg American Indian interpreter and member of the Eastern Shawnee Tribe of Oklahoma, doesn't portray a specific person. Instead, he shows up to work as himself and teaches guests about his tribe's history. But even that takes an emotional toll.Some guests have told him that the colonists should have completely wiped out Native Americans. In training, interpreters are taught to detach themselves from the stories they tell, but Silverhorn says that for interpreters of color, "there's only so much of that that can be done."Last year, Silverhorn started going to therapy, which Colonial Williamsburg covers. It's helped, but he said there's still more work to do.Novella Nimmo, education coordinator and actor-interpreter at the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center in Cincinnati, often portrays her own great-grandmother, who was born into slavery."It's draining but it's also uplifting," she said. "You're telling a story that America wants to forget. You're telling the story of your ancestors, who were never able to tell their stories. That's what keeps me going. I remember their strength, and that gives me strength."Interpreters of color also would like to see white interpreters get more training on the histories of communities of color.McKnight advocates for support groups, hazard pay and full therapy coverage for interpreters of color."The job of Black interpreters is different," McKnight said. "And we need different support."