Special Counsel Jack Smith is asking the federal judge overseeing the Mar-a-Lago documents case to make clear that former President Donald Trump is prohibited from making false statements that endanger law enforcement officers. Trump and his campaign have recently made several false and inflammatory claims about the FBI that Smith says have put federal agents and officials at risk.

The request came late Friday in the federal case over Trump’s willful retention of classified documents and attempts to obstruct justice after leaving the White House.

In a fundraising email and social media posts earlier in the week, Trump claimed that, when the FBI raided Mar-a-Lago to retrieve classified documents it believed Trump was illegally keeping there, the agents were empowered—and even wanted—to kill him. “BIDEN’S DOJ WAS AUTHORIZED TO SHOOT ME!” a fundraising email stated. “You know they’re just itching to do the unthinkable … Joe Biden was locked & loaded ready to take me out & put my family in danger.”

This is untrue. The warrant included standard language about use of force that is in fact meant to avoid violence. Further, the FBI took significant steps to avoid a confrontation with Trump, including waiting for him to leave the state to conduct the raid when he and his family would not be on the premises.

Moms for Liberty is on a mission.

The conservative “parents’ rights” group will spend more than $3 million on ads in swing states ahead of the election, according to a Wednesday report in the Associated Press.

Known for stirring the panic about pronoun usage in schools and pioneering book bans across the country, Moms for Liberty plans to target voters in the battleground states of Arizona, Georgia, North Carolina, and Wisconsin. They hope to expand to Michigan, Nevada, and Pennsylvania later this year, according to the AP.

Tina Descovich, one of the co-founders of Moms for Liberty, said that their goal is to “activate” their members who do not vote. The group doesn’t endorse specific presidential candidates, but their preferences—for electing right-wing representatives—are clear: The latest ad campaign, the AP reports, will attack President Biden for his recently-enacted Title IX rules that extend safeguards to LGBTQ students.

Opening statements in the trial of exiled Chinese mogul Guo Wengui are expected Friday with the selection of an anonymous jury consuming the first few days of the proceeding.

US District Court Judge Analisa Torres on Thursday told potential jurors their names would be kept private “to protect all of you from any unwanted attention.” She did not mention that she decided last month to anonymize them due to Guo’s past efforts to disrupt legal proceedings by dispatching his followers to protest outside the homes of legal adversaries and members of their families.

Guo, a former real estate developer once reportedly among China’s richest people, fled to the US in 2015. From a Manhattan penthouse that he bought for more than $67 million, with a reference letter from Tony Blair, he built a sprawling group of organizations he said aimed at deposing China’s Communist Party rulers, and gained a devoted following of tens of thousands of Chinese émigrés. With Steve Bannon, he founded the “New Federal State of China” which claims to be government-in-waiting set to take over governance in Beijing.

Guo has pleaded not guilty to 12 charges, including securities fraud, wire fraud, unlawful monetary transactions and conspiracy, including conspiracy to launder money. Though it is not among the charges against him, prosecutors argued last month that Guo also has used supporters to harass and threaten critics.

This story was originally published by the Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

Donald Trump was continuing to ask fossil-fuel executives to fund his presidential campaign on Wednesday, despite scrutiny of his relationship with the industry.

The former president attended a fundraising luncheon at Houston’s Post Oak hotel hosted by three Big Oil executives.

The invitation-only meeting comes a day after the defense rested its case in Trump’s criminal hush-money trial, and a week after Houston was battered by deadly storms. The climate crisis, caused primarily by the burning of fossil fuels, has created the conditions for more frequent and severe rainfall and flooding, including in Texas.

Editor’s note: The below article first appeared in David Corn’s newsletter, Our Land. The newsletter comes out twice a week (most of the time) and provides behind-the-scenes stories and articles about politics, media, and culture. Subscribing costs just $5 a month—but you can sign up for a free 30-day trial of Our Land here.

Sometimes I’d rather not be right. In January, reacting to Donald Trump affectionately referring to the trio of tyrants Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping, and Kim Jong Un as “very fine people,” I wrote that two constants in the Trump Era are his affection for murderous authoritarians and Russian efforts to screw with American politics. The former is well-known, the latter, less recognized. Moscow mounted information warfare operations to boost Trump during both the 2016 election—most notably, the hack-and-leak attack in which Russian cyber-operatives swiped Democratic emails and documents and WikiLeaks released them—and the 2020 election, when Russian intelligence operatives spread disinformation about Joe and Hunter Biden and Ukraine. The first op helped the Putin-friendly Trump reach the White House; the second failed to keep him in office, but it had the side-benefit of fueling the House Republicans’ baseless (and now fizzling) impeachment crusade against President Biden. Putin went one for two.

I noted in that Our Land issue: “[I]t’s a good bet that Putin this year will try once again to mess in an American election…[As Putin] continues to commit horrendous war crimes in Ukraine, he has even more reason to clandestinely boost Trump and win the rubber match.” At long last, official warnings have arrived.

Two weeks ago, Avril Haines, the director of national intelligence, testified to the Senate Intelligence Committee that Russia remains “the most active foreign threat to our elections.” She noted that the Kremlin’s “goals in such influence operations tend to include eroding trust in US democratic institutions, exacerbating sociopolitical divisions in the United States, and degrading Western support to Ukraine.” All of this, obviously, would be to Trump’s benefit. She pointed out that artificial intelligence and deepfakes will presumably be deployed in this effort, and she cited China and Iran as other threats.

Just a few years ago, maternal mortality was the rare reproductive justice issue that seemed to transcend partisan politics. In late 2018, Republicans and Democrats in Congress even came together to approve $60 million for state maternal mortality review committees (MMRCs) to study why so many American women die from causes related to pregnancy and childbirth. Donald Trump—not exactly famous for his respect toward pregnant women and new mothers in his personal life—signed the bill.

But some Republicans’ enthusiasm for these committees began to wane at around the same time abortion rights advocates began warning that draconian restrictions on reproductive care would only push the shamefully high US maternal mortality rate—the worst among affluent countries—even higher. Nor did conservatives, like Idaho lawmakers, appreciate the policy recommendations that came out of many MMRCs.

Texas, whose record on maternal mortality (and maternal health more broadly) has been an embarrassment since long before Dobbs, has a history of controversial attempts to play down potentially unwelcome findings from its MMRC. After the Dobbs decision, when the state committee was working on its report examining maternal deaths in 2019, Texas officials decided to slow-roll its release until mid-2023—too late for lawmakers to act on its recommendations. “When we bury data, we are dishonorably burying each and every woman that we lost,” one furious committee member told the Texas Tribune. Ultimately, officials released the report three months late, in December 2022. Soon afterward, the Legislature reconfigured the MMRC, increasing its size—but also ejected one of its most outspoken members. 

Now Texas officials have stirred up the biggest furor yet, appointing a leading anti-abortion activist to the panel. Dr. Ingrid Skop, an OB-GYN who practiced in San Antonio for 25 years, will join the MMRC as a community member representing rural areas (even though she is from the seventh-largest city in the US). But she also represents a largely overlooked segment of the anti-abortion movement: researchers who seek to discredit the idea that abortion restrictions are putting women’s lives in danger. To the contrary, Skop and her allies argue that abortions are the real, hidden cause of many maternal deaths—and that abortion restrictions actually save mothers’ lives.

This story was originally published by the Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

Eight young people are suing the government of Alaska—the nation’s fastest-warming state—claiming a major new fossil fuel project violates their state constitutional rights.

The state-owned Alaska Gasline Development Corporation has proposed a $38.7 billion gas export project that would roughly triple the state’s greenhouse gas emissions for decades, the lawsuit says. Scientists have long warned that fossil fuel extraction must be swiftly curbed to secure a livable future.

The Alaska LNG Project would involve the construction of a gas treatment plant on the state’s North Slope, an 800-mile pipeline and liquefaction plant on the Kenai Peninsula which would prepare the gas for export to Asia.

Louisiana enacted a first-of-its-kind law on Friday, classifying the two drugs used in medication abortions as controlled and dangerous substances. The law prohibits obtaining or possessing misoprostol and mifipristone without a prescription. The new classification will make obtaining a prescription more difficult.

Louisiana already bans abortion with few exceptions. The reclassification of the so-called abortion pills was first introduced as part of an effort to thwart coerced abortions. But this is a stand of anti-abortion misinformation that, as Mother Jones’ Julianne McShane has detailed, is not supported by the facts. Further, a coerced abortion would already be illegal in Louisiana.

Instead of protecting women, the new law is likely to worsen care. Misoprostol has other important uses outside of abortion care, including for treating miscarriages, ulcers, and inducing labor. “Unfortunately, I think the biggest impact of this law will be on miscarriage care,” Greer Donley, an expert on abortion law at the University of Pittsburgh, posted on X. “Docs aren’t prescribing these meds in LA for abortion b/c of bans, and patients are exempt from prosecution. Docs ARE prescribing miso for miscarriage, and this law will likely chill that care.”

The law will make it harder to prescribe these drugs by requiring doctors to have a special license, and they must now be stored in special facilities that might make them harder for people to obtain, especially in rural areas.

As any schoolkid might tell you, US elections are based on a bedrock principle: one person, one vote. Simple as that. Each vote carries the same weight. Yet for much of the country’s history, that hasn’t been the case. At various points, whole classes of people were shut out of voting: enslaved Black Americans, Native Americans, and poor white people. The first time women had the right to vote was in 1919. This week’s episode of Reveal is about a current version of this very old problem.

For this show, host Al Letson does a deep dive with Mother Jones national voting rights correspondent Ari Berman about his new book, Minority Rule: The Right-Wing Attack on the Will of the People—and the Fight to Resist It.

They first discuss America’s early years and examine how the political institutions created by the Founding Fathers were meant to constrain democracy. This system is still alive in the modern era, Berman says, through institutions like the Electoral College and the US Senate, which were designed as checks against the power of the majority. What’s more, Berman argues that the Supreme Court is a product of these two skewed institutions. Then there are newer tactics—like voter suppression and gerrymandering—that are layered on top of this anti-democratic foundation to entrench the power of a conservative white minority.

In 2017, the exiled Chinese mogul Guo Wengui began to remake himself in America as a dissident celebrity. In media appearances, tweets, and lengthy YouTube videos, Guo launched tirades against Chinese Communist Party corruption. They made him famous among extremely online Chinese emigres and won him prominence as an ally of Steve Bannon and other Trumpworld luminaries.

Guo sold a brand: A mega-rich, Brioni-clad, rule-breaking Bannon buddy leading a “whistleblower movement” with an audacious goal to “take down the CCP” and install his own supposed government-in-waiting in Beijing.

But the truth of Guo’s story is now at issue in the federal courthouse in Manhattan, where he stands trial for fraud and money laundering. In an opening statement Friday, Assistant US Attorney Micah Fergenson previewed evidence he said shows that Guo—who has also used the names Ho Wan Kwok and Miles Guo—stole more than $1 billion from his own ardent fans who invested in scam financial ventures Gou launched in 2020 and 2021.

“Miles Guo ran a simple con on a grand scale,” Fergenson said. “He lived a billionaire’s lifestyle using money he stole from people he tricked and cheated.”

At the hush-money trial of former President Donald Trump in Manhattan, Stormy Daniels’ story is, in a sense, a proxy battle for the actual debate about bookkeeping: If you believe Daniels’ accounting of the affair she alleges they had, then you must find Trump—who denies any such encounter—unbelievable. If you don’t believe Daniels, then it becomes much easier to accept the defense narrative that this is all one big con.

The sexual encounter that Daniels described in precise and disturbing detail under oath this week is technically irrelevant to the questions at hand. But she is the hook for the story that no one can ignore. And with no television cameras allowed inside, people will go to great lengths to hear her out. In the courthouse, I met a man who’d shown up at 3:30 a.m. just to snag a seat in the overflow room. “It’s Stormy,” he explained. He didn’t need to say anything else.

Daniels is the star. So at Thursday’s cross-examination, the defense set out to destroy her. Susan Necheles, who is also representing Trump in two federal cases, handled the task. She spent a long time trying to get Daniels to say that her motivation for telling her story publicly was born from personal malice toward the president because of political beliefs, and a desire to make as much money as she could. Daniels’ various money-making ventures during the Trump years, we heard, included a role on the reality TV show Surreal Life and a national tour in which she appeared at strip clubs, which Necheles insisted on calling the “Making America Horny Again” tour as many times as possible. (Daniels insisted that wasn’t her slogan—and just “what a club in North Carolina called it.”)

Various exhibits that followed detailed Daniels’ merchandise deals. It was a cornucopia of bad Yankee Swap gifts: there was a comic book, Stormy Daniels Political Power; a black-and-purple #TeamStormy t-shirt; and a “Stormy Saint of Indictments” candle, which sold for $40 but which Daniels said she only received $7 per item on.

“You’re celebrating the indictment by selling things from your store,” Necheles said.

This story was originally published by the Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

Vermont is poised to pass a groundbreaking measure forcing major polluting companies to help pay for damages caused by the climate crisis, in a move being closely watched by other states including New York and California.

Modeled after the EPA’s Superfund program, which forces companies to pay for toxic waste cleanup, the climate superfund bill would charge major fossil fuel companies doing business within the state billions of dollars for their past emissions.

The measure would make Vermont the first US state to hold fossil fuel companies liable for their planet-heating pollution. “If you contributed to a mess, you should play a role in cleaning it up,” Elena Mihaly, vice-president of the Conservation Law Foundation’s Vermont chapter, which is campaigning for the bill, said in an interview.

If passed, the bill will face a steep uphill battle in the courts. But supporters say the first-of-its-kind legislation could be a model for the rest of the country. Four other states are weighing similar initiatives. Sens. Bernie Sanders (D-VT) and Chris Van Hollen (D-MD) also attempted to include a federal version in the infrastructure bill passed in 2022, though it was omitted from the final draft. (The measure would have raised $500 billion.)

In March, the politerati were atwitter over what appeared major news: Longtime political operator, lobbyist, wheeler-dealer, and (pardoned) felon Paul Manafort was in talks to join Donald Trump’s 2024 presidential campaign. This seemed an odd move, given all of Manafort’s schemings over the years. A more recent Manafort business venture—unknown to the public—raises further questions about him and his attempt to return to the Trump fold. According to documents obtained by Mother Jones—including a memo written by Manafort—two years ago, Manafort was trying to orchestrate a $250 million deal to create a streaming service in China in a project that he asserted was blessed by the Chinese government and that was partnering with a Chinese telecommunications firm sanctioned by the US government. 

On Friday morning, the Washington Post, which obtained the same documents, broke the news of Manafort’s involvement in this endeavor. 

Manafort was Trump’s campaign manager for part of 2016—until Trump dumped him after allegations emerged that Manafort had pocketed $12.7 million in undisclosed cash payments a few years earlier from a pro-Russia political party in Ukraine. (His lawyer denied he had received this money.) Two years later, as a result of special counsel Robert Mueller’s investigation of the Trump-Russia scandal, Manafort was found guilty of and pleaded guilty to assorted financial crimes related to his consulting work in Ukraine, including bank fraud and conspiring to defraud the United States. He was sentenced to more than seven years in federal prison and sent off to the hoosegow. (He was released to home confinement during the Covid pandemic.) In 2020, a bipartisan report from the Senate Intelligence Committee declared Manafort a “grave counterintelligence threat,” revealing that during the 2016 race he had repeatedly passed Trump campaign inside information to a former business associate who was a “Russian intelligence officer” and a “Kremlin agent.” In his final weeks in the White House, Trump pardoned Manafort. 

In the years since Trump cleaned his slate, Manafort has mostly maintained a low public profile. During part of that stretch, he privately endeavored to facilitate a huge deal in China. Emails and memos show that in May 2022 Manafort was working with a privately-held Hong Kong-based company called Standard Huaxia Limited to set up a new streaming company in China dubbed Doorways. Manafort and his colleagues were looking to raise an initial $25 million for the project that Manafort noted was seeking $250 million. 

A memo written (according to its meta-data) by Manafort described Doorways as a firm that would distribute in China “several kinds of content covering the entire spectrum of intangible products related to culture, including music, television and film entertainment, news and education.” You can read the full document below.

Moms for Liberty, the most prominent group in the right-wing movement against “woke” public schools, is well known for its crusades against LGBTQ-inclusive curriculum and anti-racism initiatives in classrooms. Since 2021, the group, which counts 130,000 members, across 48 states, has claimed—at school board meetings, conferences, and on social media—that left-wing teachers are turning students into social justice warriors.

Those efforts—of playing politics in public schools in the name of excising politics—has proved great preparation for its leaders’ current project: Railing against what they see as an antisemitic agenda in certain public schools, even as Moms for Liberty itself reels from allegations of antisemitism in its own ranks.

Earlier this week, leaders of several public school systems testified before the House Committee on Education and the Workforce in the latest hearing on antisemitism in America’s educational institutions. High-up officials from New York City, Berkeley, CA, and Montgomery County, Maryland defended their schools against the allegations of Republican lawmakers. Rep. Aaron Bean (R-Fla.) said they had “been accused of doing nothing and turning a blind eye” while students and teachers were “spewing Nazi propaganda” in the months since Hamas’ October 7 attack and Israel’s subsequent siege in Gaza.

After the hearing, Moms for Liberty co-founder Tiffany Justice connected current concerns about antisemitic activism to one of the group’s most successful battle cries: That schools focus on left-wing politics at the expense of academics.

“Parents thought they were sending their kids to school to get an education, ‘ABCs. One, two, threes,'” Justice told the conservative news site Just the News. “And at some point, the schools started becoming factories for little activist social justice warriors.”

Steve Bannon’s odds of going to prison ticked up on Friday when DC’s Circuit Court of Appeals rejected an appeal of his 2022 conviction for contempt of Congress. But more than 18 months after a federal district court judge sentenced the former Donald Trump adviser to four months behind bars for blowing off subpoenas from the House’s January 6 committee, Bannon has not yet exhausted his legal options. 

The “War Room” host can still ask the full bench of the DC Circuit to consider his appeal, or petition the Supreme Court. Those are long shots, but a DC Circuit panel said its ruling will not take effect until a week after any further appeals are resolved. That could buy Bannon some time. He also benefits from a ruling by US District Judge Carl Nichols, who, even as he handed Bannon a stiff sentence, agreed to postpone his prison term while Bannon appealed.

Former White House adviser Peter Navarro, by contrast, is serving a four-month sentence imposed in January by US District Court Judge Amit Mehta, after Mehta declined to let Navarro remain free while he appealed. 

Bannon’s continued freedom—much like the delays in Trump’s federal prosecutions caused by the Supreme Court and the rulings of an inept Trump-appointed judge in Florida—is a frustrating reminder that the justice system often functions slowly, or not at all, for rich and politically connected defendants. The Trump and Bannon prosecutions are linked, because Bannon is doubtless trying to stave off imprisonment in the hope that Trump, who pardoned him in another case in 2021, will do so again if reelected. The Washington Post reported that Bannon’s “vociferous support” for Trump’s election fraud lies helped secure the earlier pardon. 

But Bannon, like Trump, has additional legal problems, including some that no president can fix. He faces fraud, money laundering, and conspiracy charges in New York related to the same scheme—which involved raising private funds to build a wall along the US-Mexico border—for which federal prosecutors indicted him in 2020. That case is before Juan Merchan, the same judge overseeing Trump’s ongoing trial for falsifying financial records to hide his alleged payoffs to porn star Stormy Daniels. 

Editor’s note: The below article first appeared in David Corn’s newsletter, Our Land. The newsletter comes out twice a week (most of the time) and provides behind-the-scenes stories and articles about politics, media, and culture. Subscribing costs just $5 a month—but you can sign up for a free 30-day trial of Our Land here.

For four decades, I’ve had a recurring nightmare in which a nuclear blast occurs. The scenario is not always the same. Occasionally, the detonation is an escalation in an ongoing conventional war. More often, it’s a bolt out of the blue: I and others are on the street, and we spot incoming missiles and have but a moment to realize what is about to transpire before the warheads explode.

These dreams began, not surprisingly, when I was a reporter-editor in the 1980s for a now-defunct publication that covered arms control issues. After several years in the job, I found the task of constantly thinking about nuclear warfare psychologically burdensome and moved on—though I have dutifully maintained an interest in the subject. During my stint at that magazine, I met victims of the nuclear era, including downwinders (people suffering severe medical ailments due to exposure to radioactive contamination and nuclear fallout from nuclear tests) and survivors of the US nuclear attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki at the end of World War II. Their tales were haunting and cautionary, descriptions of the past and foretellings of a possible and awful future. Given all this, when I visited Japan as a tourist last month, I felt compelled to go to the first of the only two cities that have experienced nuclear devastation.

Hiroshima is a wonderment. At 8:15 a.m. on August 6, 1945, on the orders of President Harry Truman, an American B-29 dropped a bomb that contained 141 pounds of uranium-235 over the center of the city. Hiroshima had been selected as a target by a committee comprising military officials and scientists from the Manhattan Project because it was an industrial center and home to a major military command—and its surrounding hills, according to the committee, would likely “produce a focusing effect which would considerably increase the blast damage.” The bomb detonated about 1,900 feet above ground. The blast leveled a 4.5-square-mile area and set off a firestorm that spread throughout the city. Tens of thousands of civilians were incinerated or injured that day. An estimated total of 140,000 Hiroshima residents were killed by the bombing or the ensuing radioactive fallout over the next few months. Many more died in succeeding years.

Today, 79 years later, Hiroshima, founded as a castle town in 1589, is a thriving city of 1 million people that boasts an active port and assorted industrial facilities and that is renowned for its delicious oysters. After the bombing, experts proclaimed that nothing would grow for at least 75 years in the wasteland created. Yet today the main avenue that leads to the blast site—Peace Boulevard—is lined with large leafy trees that were donated to Hiroshima from cities across Japan. And Peace Memorial Park, located where the bomb fell, is lush with flora. On the day I visited, it was full of life and people: families, tourists, young couples, street performers. It is a testament to resilience. What was once a hellscape is now a lovely spot where one can watch a Japanese troupe performing traditional Hawaiian dances alongside the Motoyasu River and eat takeout sushi beneath the iconic Atomic Bomb Dome, the only structure that was left standing in the blast zone. It was hard to reconcile the utter pleasantness of this Saturday morning with the horrific destruction that had occurred here merely a single lifetime ago.

Israel on Saturday ordered hundreds of thousands in Rafah to evacuate immediately as Israeli military forces prepared to expand further into Gaza’s southernmost city amid a devastating humanitarian crisis. The warning, which arrived in the form of dropped leaflets, came despite a rare threat from President Biden this week that he would withhold certain weapons if Israel advanced further into Rafah. 

At least 300,000 people affected as further areas across #GazaStrip receive new evacuation orders today, both towards central #Rafah in the south AND #Jabalia in north #Gaza@UNRWA estimates 150,000 people have now fled #Rafah since Monday, looking for safety where there's none. pic.twitter.com/9UNfo6b0rW

— UNRWA (@UNRWA) May 11, 2024

More than half of Gaza’s population have fled to Rafah since the start of Israel’s military operations in the north, pushing the densely populated city, which also serves as a critical passageway for transporting aid into Gaza, to a “breaking point.” Now facing an imminent ground invasion, as well as vows by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to fight “with our fingernails” if the US follows through on its threat to cut off certain weapons, displaced Palestinians are forced to flee once again. To where, it’s exceedingly unclear, as Gaza’s north has already been decimated by months of bombing.

“The bombing and shelling is incessant,” Bridget Rochios, a certified nurse-midwife from California volunteering at Rafah’s last maternity hospital, told Mother Jones this week. “And there’s nowhere else to go.” Rochios described scenes of horror where basic medical supplies such as gloves and scissors are nearly gone; doctors are forced to use razors to remove umbilical cords; and the lives of 50 newborns in the intensive care unit hang in the balance.

It seems like such a simple idea: a day to honor the women who bring life into the world. But  how do we square the ideal of celebrating and supporting mothers with the reality of how lawmakers and courts have acted to undermine maternal health and rights in the post-Dobbs era? Or make sense of all the money Americans spend annually on this one day—a purported $33.5 billion in 2024, according to the National Federation of Retailers, including $7 billion on jewelry and $3.2 billion on flowers—when so many mothers can’t afford food, housing, or health care? 

Anna Jarvis, who launched the Mother’s Day movement in 1908 in honor of her own remarkable mother, would have had very complicated feelings about what the day has become, says Katharine Lane Antolini, associate professor of American history at West Virginia Wesleyan College and author of Memorializing Motherhood: Anna Jarvis and the Struggle for Control of Mother’s Day. Jarvis’s vision was childlike in its sentimentality, Antolini says: “To her, this was supposed to be the one day out of the year when you were just grateful for your mother.” But there was nothing sentimental about the way she fought to preserve that vision, whether she was battling the floral industry, Big Candy, or well-intentioned maternal health charities and the powerful people who supported them. I spoke with Antolini from her campus office in Buckhannon, West Virginia, about 40 minutes from the International Mother’s Day Shrine and Jarvis’s childhood home.

How did the idea of a day to honor mothers become such a focus of Anna Jarvis’ life?

The story of Mother’s Day really goes back to her mother, Ann Reeves Jarvis, who was a well-known social activist and community organizer during her time. They lived in the part of Virginia that split off during the Civil War to become West Virginia, part of the Union. Mrs. Jarvis had 13 children, only four of whom lived to adulthood. Anna, who was born in 1864, was the oldest surviving daughter. She never married or had children. She was never a mother herself. And that, I think, is an important part of her story.

In the 1850s, before Anna was born, it was very common for mothers in this part of Appalachia to die in childbirth and for babies to die. Poor sanitation was a major cause of death. Mrs. Jarvis organized what she called Mothers’ Day Work Clubs, where women would come together to educate themselves on issues of sanitation: what to do with sewage, where to put your outhouse so it wouldn’t contaminate your water supply or the milk from your cows. If there was a mini epidemic, they would help quarantine a family, bring them food, and help care for the sick. Mrs. Jarvis believed in a proactive kind of motherhood—in the book, I refer to it as “social motherhood,” where being a mother does not just mean taking care of your own children. You are caring for your community of children. By the time of the Civil War, these clubs were so well known that, according to local legend, a Union colonel asked Mrs. Jarvis if she could help the Union camps stop the outbreaks of disease that were killing so many soldiers. So, according to the story, Mrs. Jarvis organized mothers to help care for and stop the spread of diseases in the camps. 

A year and a half after Mother Jones exposed how Oklahoma courts were imprisoning mothers for longer than their abusers, state lawmakers passed a bill that could allow some of those mothers’ sentences to be shortened. But this week, Gov. Kevin Stitt vetoed the legislation.

In an award-winning investigation in 2022, I told the story of Kerry King, a mom in Tulsa who got 30 years in prison under the state’s “failure to protect” law because she couldn’t stop her abusive boyfriend from beating her 4-year-old daughter. He received significantly less time behind bars for committing that violence. When my colleague Ryan Little and I conducted a groundbreaking review of Oklahoma’s court records, we identified hundreds of people like King who had been charged under the state’s law since 2009 for allegedly failing to protect their children from another adult’s harm. About 90 percent of those imprisoned under the statute were women, disproportionately Black mothers. Many of them experienced abuse from the same person, often a romantic partner, who harmed their children.

In recent weeks, Oklahoma’s legislature overwhelmingly approved the Oklahoma Survivors’ Act, which would allow courts to shorten prison sentences for people who can prove their crime stemmed from domestic violence. The legislation could help mothers like King who are convicted for “failure to protect,” as well as others who killed an abuser in self-defense, or committed a crime while attempting to escape from the abusive relationship, or followed an abuser’s order to break the law for fear of retribution. It would apply to both new and old cases, theoretically helping people with active trials or those who want to retroactively shorten their sentences.

It’s a big deal that this legislation passed with so much support: As I’ve reported before, only a few other states have laws like this, including New York. And none of those states are as conservative as Oklahoma. But the issue appears to have struck a chord on both sides of the Sooner State’s political aisle. “This may be the first time in my life I agree with someone from San Francisco,” then-Rep. Todd Russ, who is Republican and now Oklahoma’s state treasurer, wrote to me in 2022 after I emailed him from California to share our investigation. In March, the state Senate unanimously approved the Oklahoma Survivors’ Act, and in April the state House approved it with a vote of 84-3.

Despite such broad support, Republican Gov. Stitt vetoed the bill on Tuesday. He described the legislation as “bad policy,” arguing that “untold numbers of violent individuals who are incarcerated or should be incarcerated in the future will have greater opportunity to present a threat to society due to this bill’s impact.” (Our investigation found that the vast majority of women in Oklahoma convicted for failure to protect—a nonviolent crime—had no prior felony record.)

The first criminal trial of a former US president is underway, with Donald Trump facing 34 felony counts of falsifying business records related to hush-money payments allegedly made in 2016 to cover up an affair he had with adult film star Stormy Daniels. Here’s the latest—the key updates and absurd moments—from the historic trial.

Public birthday wishes are a tricky art. Some are cute! Others give the ick. But on the 54th birthday of Melania Trump, a new entry into the canon of birthday messages has emerged—and it defies neat categorization.

“I want to start by wishing my wife Melania a very happy birthday,” Donald Trump told reporters on Friday. “It would be nice to be with her but I’m at a courthouse for a rigged trial.”

Trump begins today's rant by wishing Melania a happy birthday while simultaneously whining about his case pic.twitter.com/qgAkHA2voJ

— Aaron Rupar (@atrupar) April 26, 2024