Mississippi Today
Is Mississippi’s parole system broken?
This is the first of a year-long look at Mississippi’s parole system.
At 17, James Williams III shot and killed his father and stepmother in south Jackson, stuffed their bodies into plastic containers and dumped them in the woods in a different county.
In 2023 after he’d served nearly 20 years of a life sentence, Mississippi’s Parole Board freed him, two years after the previous board denied his request. He was 38 years old.
The decision came as a shock to family members of his victims, lawmakers and members of law enforcement who called on the Parole Board without success to reverse its decision.
Williams’ parole also caught the attention of advocates helping those who have served longer behind bars and been denied parole multiple times, despite similarly participating in rehabilitative, educational and spiritual programs to show that they’ve changed.
“You can all have all the facts there and hear two or three different versions and accounts of the situations and when you see that someone has actually taken advantage of stuff, [and] is not the same person they were,” Parole Board Jeffery Belk said in an interview to explain how the board makes decisions.
Despite making all the same efforts as Williams, thousands of people have remained in prison instead of receiving parole. The parole grant rate that averaged 62% between 2013 and 2021 fell to 35% in 2022 when Belk and new members joined the Parole Board, according to data from the Mississippi Department of Corrections.
At the same time, the board has held fewer hearings since 2022 and is using more and longer setoffs, the period between parole hearings.
Among those denied parole is 65-year-old Anita Krecic, in prison since 1989 for her role in the murder of Highway Patrol Trooper David Bruce Ladner in Harrison County, for which she has maintained she was present for but did not participate. The trooper’s shooter, Krecic’s boyfriend Tracy Alan Hansen, was executed over 20 years ago.
Krecic stopped using drugs in prison, enrolled in college-level classes and took vocational courses like computer repair.
The Parole Board denied her release in 2022 – the 10th time since she became parole eligible. Her next hearing is sometime in 2030, according to court records. She will then be nearly 70 years old.
“I have a cabinet full of (records of) people who are honestly trying and are trying to do better and do better,” said Mitzi Magleby, an advocate working with Krecic and other incarcerated people to navigate the parole process.
Magleby is among advocates, family members and incarcerated people who see these disparate decisions as a sign that Mississippi’s parole system is broken.
Inconsistencies with who is paroled, the use of long setoffs and infrequent use of other forms of medical or compassionate release keep people inside, contributing to the growth of Mississippi’s prison population. Logistical issues create a bottleneck of those who could be released but can’t partly due to a lack of caseworkers and plans they generate, which are a required part of parole.
Even after release, they encounter a supervision system with a high number of vacancies and the many challenges of reentry, including a lack of transitional housing.
A 2023 Prison Policy Initiative report that looked at parole outcomes across 27 states found that the COVID-19 pandemic led to a change in parole grant rates. But, while the average change in rates from 2019 to 2022 was a 14% decrease, Mississippi’s was 45%.
Additionally, the review found that the number of parole hearings and overall releases decreased in most states in the past five years.
Mississippi halted new prison admissions and saw its prison population fall early in the pandemic, but the population has returned to pre-pandemic levels as the Parole Board has scaled back releases.
Researchers at the Robina Institute of Criminal Law and Criminal Justice at the University of Minnesota studing parole release and revocation across the country also found that parole grant rates plummeted in 2022.
“COVID caused a massive change to the makeup of the prison population,” said Robina research director Julia Laskorunsky. “To me, it makes sense most states would have a higher denial rate following COVID and it would rebound back to the norm.”
But in Mississippi, it hasn’t.
Parole is the main way people are released from the Mississippi prison system, accounting for over 60% of all releases since at least 2017, according to a 2021 report by the Joint Legislative Committee on Performance Evaluation and Expenditure Review.
Between 2013 and 2023, the board granted parole to over 52,000 people, averaging about 4,700 people each year, according to a review of MDOC parole data.
Nearly 6,000 people were paroled in 2016, a high during the 10-year period.
“Looking at the success (of people’s rehabilitation) is the primary job,” said Steve Pickett, who served as Parole Board chair from 2013-2021.
A parole grant is the first step. Typically, the wait time between parole and release is two weeks.
More than 95% of the over 56,000 people granted parole within the past decade had a nonviolent charge as their primary offense, such as drug possession, burglary and felony DUI, according to MDOC data.
Those with a primary nonviolent offense also made up the bulk of parole denials because there are more people incarcerated for nonviolent and drug crimes compared to violent and sex crimes. There are also less crimes defined as violent compared to nonviolent crimes.
However, homicide remains the most common primary charge among the 31,000 denied parole – nearly 12% of all denial outcomes, according to MDOC data.
As an integral part of the criminal justice system, Pickett said the board can serve as a release valve when the prison population is overwhelmed and it acts as a group of social workers and judges to determine whether a person can be freed.
When he retired, the prison population had fallen below 17,000, mostly in response to MDOC freezing the transfer of people from county jails during the early days of the pandemic. By the end of 2022, the population returned to pre-pandemic levels above 19,000.
The decade’s low of about 2,150 people granted parole came in 2022, when the board’s chairman and membership changed, the data shows.
“We’re not a numbers-driven board,” Belk said, noting that he stepped into the role without an agenda. “I’ve made that very clear in the past several years.”
He became chairman on the heels of a wave of parole grants and criminal justice reforms designed to increase parole eligibility for an estimated 5,700 additional inmates.
People wondered why the new iteration of the board wasn’t paroling as many people compared to previous years. Belk said the board is trying to exercise better due diligence to grant parole, which he said includes having all available information about a person and their case and completed and substantive case plans from MDOC.
“No, we actually took the time to review and try to get these systems and processes in place to where people can be set up for success,” he said.
When denying parole, the board typically uses setoff periods, the length of time between hearings.
In 2022, 1,404 people were set off to the end of their sentence – the highest in the 10-year period. Belk said most of the people the board has set off to duration are those with short sentences who were expected to be released within weeks, months or years, as opposed to decades.
The board also decides whether to revoke parole for those found to violate the terms of their release, especially after arrest or conviction of a new crime.
The year Belk became chairman, the board revoked parole for over 2,100 people, a 90% increase from 2021, when the board revoked parole for closer to 1,100 people, according to MDOC data.
The board continued parole for more than 1,000 people for back-to-back years in 2020 and 2021. The new board continued parole for less than 100 people in 2022 and in 2023, according to MDOC data.
About two-thirds of Missisisppi’s prison population is now eligible for parole, partly because of legislation passed in the last two decades.
Those convicted of nonviolent offenses or drug offenses were already eligible after serving 25% or 10 years of their sentence. Reforms passed in 2021 expanded parole eligibility to those convicted of violent offenses, with most needing to serve at least half or 20 years of their sentence or 60% or 25 years for specific crimes such as carjacking.
Criminal justice groups from both political parties that support the reforms say nearly all of the 2,150 people who became eligible for parole under Senate Bill 2795 did not return to prison on a new sentence within the first two years of their release, according to an analysis by FWD.us, a bipartisan criminal justice and immigration advocacy group.
This year, the governor signed into law a bill that extends the parole eligibility reforms for two more years.
Despite the successes, advocates have said the law is not being fully used. FWD.us said the impact of expanding parole in 2021 was short-lived because it was not fully implemented, according to a report released ahead of the recent legislative session.
“The Parole Board plays an essential role in ensuring the state’s parole law is fully implemented,” said Mississippi State Director Alesha Judkins in a statement.
Once parole eligible, a individual applies for consideration. Four months ahead of their eligibility date, the board gathers information to make a determination, such as the circumstances of their crime, previous criminal record, conduct during incarceration and participation in prison programming.
The board also approves a person’s case plan and sees whether they will have family or community support or a job lined up after prison.
“If someone has done what they are supposed to do and taken advantage of the different opportunities at MDOC, it’s kind of what have you done to make yourself parolable?” Belk said.
“What have you done to set yourself up for success?”
But success is subjective, in the eyes of the board. People have come to their parole hearings with multiple certificates of courses and programs they have completed, but Belk said the board didn’t always see them as meaningful.
Although he couldn’t substantiate the allegation, he said some program instructors would sign all the certificates and hand them out at the beginning of a course instead of teaching, which showed that some of the programs lacked credibility.
“Most of the time it was a participation trophy,” said Belk, who spoke anecdotally about what the board has been told by MDOC staff and innates during parole and revocation hearings.
Under Corrections Commissioner Burl Cain, Belk said courses are now being taught and documented in a standardized way, giving the board a piece of mind that inmates are learning and growing by participating in them.
Parole hearings are more often a file review completed in the board’s Jackson office. The person up for parole can attend the hearing via live video, including if they have legal representation and if a hearing is requested, but most do not attend.
In 2021, PEER released a report that painted what Belk saw as a “picture of an agency in disarray.” The report found the board held untimely hearings and was not effectively using presumptive parole for nonviolent offenders who have met certain requirements and doesn’t require a hearing.
A followup PEER report in June 2023 found the board was holding timely hearings but still wsn’t effectively using presumptive parole or keeping meeting minutes. Belk said the board is working with MDOC to get systems, policies and procedures in place for presumptive parole to operate, which it hasn’t since it was made law in 2014.
“The (MDOC) commissioner uses the phrase ‘It’s like a caterpillar crawl out.’ I use the phrase ‘It’s like trying to push a string,’” he said about getting things in order.
Once presumptive parole is running, Belk said the board will have more time to focus on considering parole for violent offenders, including those sentenced to life with the possibility of parole before 1995.
Wanda Bertram, spokesperson for the Prison Policy Initiative, said research shows that people convicted of life sentences, even serious violent offenses and sexual offenses, have the lowest recidivism rates and, along with the elderly, are least likely to return to prison.
“As counterintuitive as it seems, that is good policy to focus on lifers,” she said.
Belk said the board tries to see the nuances in each individual case or each time a person comes up for parole, which can be multiple times before release.
Sometimes, people are good talkers and charmers with a prepared speech about how much they have changed during incarceration, so Belk said the board has to distinguish between fact and fiction, action and words.
There are people who decided they no longer wanted to be the version of themselves who were convicted and sentenced. They have completed high school equivalent and college degrees, found religion, learned a trade – sometimes all three.
When they talk about what they’ve done, Belk said you can tell they’ve changed, or they say they are at peace and content with whatever decision the board makes about their parole.
That brings back the discussion of James Williams III, and before him, Frederick Bell.
In 2022, the board voted to parole Frederick Bell, who was convicted of shooting 21-year-old Robert “Bert” Bell (no relation) during a 1991 store robbery in Grenada County. He had originally been sentenced to death, but was resentenced to life with parole eligibility.
In prison, Bell served as a mentor, teacher and pastor.
The decision shocked Bert Bell’s family, who said they had been attending Parole Board hearings since 2015 to oppose his release. Gene Bell, Bert’s younger brother, said the board previously said it wouldn’t parole Frederick Bell and would give him a longer setoff period until his next hearing.
Under state law, the board can’t deny someone parole based solely on victim opposition.
But the board delayed Bell’s September 2022 release, and the next month it rescinded his parole and gave him a two-year setoff. He remains at the Mississippi State Penitentiary at Parchman.
In a 2023 report, the Prison Policy Initiative cited Bell’s approved and rescinded release as an example of how political dynamics can influence how parole is used and applied.
Last year, the board approved parole for Williams, convicted of murdering his father, James Jr., and stepmother, Cindy Lassiter Mangum, in 2002.
Williams was originally not eligible for release but was resentenced due to U.S. Supreme Court decisions limiting life without parole for those who committed crimes when they were under the age of 18. The first time he came up for parole in 2021, he was denied, Pickett said.
The next year when he was up for parole again, Jake Howard, his attorney, told Mississippi Today’s Jerry Mitchell, that Williams was “an exceptional candidate for parole” who had been part of MDOC’s faith-based programs since 2008, tutored other students, became a field minister and served as a minister of music at a Parchman church.
The victims’ family and lawmakers opposed Williams’ release, raising concerns about public safety. This time, the opposition held no sway. Williams was released in May 2023.
Several months after his release, Williams was arrested in Rankin County for driving under the influence. He went before the board again, and had his parole revoked. To date, he is incarcerated at the Central Mississippi Correctional Facility in Pearl.
Looking back, Belk said the Bell and Williams cases were high profile and there was debate over what the facts of the case were, which he saw play out on social media and through interviews family members and lawmakers gave.
“I was not going to go on the [Paul] Gallo show to comment to the media and make a bad situation worse,” he said.
Belk declined to comment further about the men’s cases, including why the board decided to keep Bell in prison but not Williams.
Generally, if someone is parole eligible, the law directs the board to consider them, regardless of their convicted offenses. That means the board can’t lump all the violent offenders together and refuse to grant them parole, Belk said.
But that doesn’t mean the board has to release everyone, he said. Commonalities in convictions and completion of programming doesn’t always justify parol, Belk said. Neither does someone’s age or how long they have been in prison.
“Just because someone has made a life change, it doesn’t necessarily mean they need to be back on the streets either,” Belk said.
Both Belk and Pickett said there are situations where the board agrees someone would never be ready for parole, typically when the indivdual committed an egregious crime, like Luke Woodham, who was convicted for killing his mother and two classmates in the 1997 Pearl High School shooting and became parole eligible while Pickett served on the board.
Some of those people who are now seeking parole may have a clear behavioral record and built good relationships with prison staff, but Belk said then you look into their cases.
“The horrific details of what they’ve done, borderline sadistic,” he said.
It can be heartbreaking to see a victim or family emotionally scarred years or decades after losing someone, and they’re asking the board not to grant parole. Belk said he has had to explain that the individuals have met parole requirements, earned good time or completed their sentence.
Pickett said even though people may be asking for different outcomes, he can see a family or parent’s love for their child, whether that person was a crime victim or the incarcerated person.
“An open door is the best policy so that nobody thinks an injustice is being done, and it leads to trust in the system because if you’re at last able to get a fair hearing, even if you don’t like the outcome,” he said.
Magleby, the parole advocate, also sees how people grow and change, but doesn’t understand how people who appear to be good candidates for release – a clear institutional record, jobs and housing lined up – have been denied parole.
Julia Norman, the newest member of the parole board, said during her February 2023 confirmation hearing that the board can vote to deny parole if they feel that the person received a sentence that was too short.
Pickett, the former chairman, said the board’s job is not to resentence or determine if someone wasn’t sentenced long enough. Belk said declining to parole someone and using setoffs is not a form of resentencing.
Magleby said the Parole Board has always been tough, but the former board seemed more fair and open to rehabilitation.
She has no ill will towards Williams and the fact he was paroled, but she can’t help but think he got that opportunity over others who have been incarcerated for longer and have also made use of opportunities in prison to make themselves parolable.
“And why not them?” Magleby asked.
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.
Did you miss our previous article…
https://www.biloxinewsevents.com/?p=363414
Mississippi Today
Mississippi prepares for another execution
The Mississippi Supreme Court has set the execution of a man who kidnapped and murdered a 20-year-old community college student in north Mississippi 30 years ago.
Charles Ray Crawford, 59, is set to be executed Oct. 15 at the Mississippi State Penitentiary at Parchman, after multiple requests by the attorney general’s office.
Eight justices joined the majority opinion to set the execution, concluding that Crawford has exhausted all state and federal legal remedies. Mississippi Supreme Court Justice T. Kenneth Griffis Jr. wrote the Friday opinion. Justice David Sullivan did not participate.
However, Kristy Noble with the Mississippi Office of Capital Post-Conviction Counsel released a statement saying it will file another appeal with the U.S. Supreme Court.
“”Mr. Crawford’s inexperienced trial counsel conceded his guilt to the jury — against Mr.
Crawford’s timely and repeated objections,” Noble said in the statement. “Mr. Crawford told his counsel to pursue a not guilty verdict. Counsel did just the opposite, which is precisely what the U.S. Supreme Court says counsel cannot do,” Noble said in the statement.
“A trial like Mr. Crawford’s – one where counsel concedes guilt over his client’s express wishes – is essentially no trial at all.”
Last fall, Crawford’s attorneys asked the court not to set an execution date because he hadn’t exhausted appeal efforts in federal court to challenge a rape conviction that is not tied to his death sentence. In June, the U.S. Supreme Court declined to take up Crawford’s case.
A similar delay occurred a decade ago, when the AG’s office asked the court to reset Crawford’s execution date, but that was denied because efforts to appeal his unrelated rape conviction were still pending.
After each unsuccessful filing, the attorney general’s office asked the Mississippi Supreme Court to set Crawford’s execution date.
On Friday, the court also denied Crawford’s third petition for post-conviction relief and a request for oral argument. It accepted the state’s motion to dismiss the petition. Seven justices concurred and Justice Leslie King concurred in result only. Again, Justice Sullivan did not participate.
Crawford was convicted and sentenced to death in Lafayette County for the 1993 rape and murder of North Mississippi Community College student Kristy Ray.
Days before he was set to go to trial on separate aggravated assault and rape charges, he kidnapped Ray from her parents’ Tippah County home, leaving ransom notes. Crawford took Ray to an abandoned barn where he stabbed her, and his DNA was found on her, indicating he sexually assaulted her, according to court records.
Crawford told police he had blackouts and only remembered parts of the crime, but not killing Ray. Later he admitted “he must of killed her” and led police to Ray’s body, according to court records.
At his 1994 trial he presented an insanity defense, including that he suffered from psychogenic amnesia – periods of time lapse without memory. Medical experts who provided rebuttal testimony said Crawford didn’t have psychogenic amnesia and didn’t show evidence of bipolar illness.
The last person executed in Mississippi was Richard Jordan in June, previously the state’s oldest and longest serving person on death row.
There are 36 people on death row, according to records from the Mississippi Department of Corrections.
Update 9/15/25: This story has been updated to include a response from the Mississippi Office of Capital Post-Conviction Counsel
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
The post Mississippi prepares for another execution appeared first on mississippitoday.org
Note: The following A.I. based commentary is not part of the original article, reproduced above, but is offered in the hopes that it will promote greater media literacy and critical thinking, by making any potential bias more visible to the reader –Staff Editor.
Political Bias Rating: Centrist
The article presents a factual and balanced account of the legal proceedings surrounding a scheduled execution in Mississippi. It includes perspectives from both the state’s attorney general’s office and the defense counsel, without using emotionally charged language or advocating for a particular political stance. The focus on legal details and court decisions reflects a neutral, informative approach typical of centrist reporting.
Mississippi Today
Presidents are taking longer to declare major natural disasters. For some, the wait is agonizing
TYLERTOWN — As an ominous storm approached Buddy Anthony’s one-story brick home, he took shelter in his new Ford F-250 pickup parked under a nearby carport.
Seconds later, a tornado tore apart Anthony’s home and damaged the truck while lifting it partly in the air. Anthony emerged unhurt. But he had to replace his vehicle with a used truck that became his home while waiting for President Donald Trump to issue a major disaster declaration so that federal money would be freed for individuals reeling from loss. That took weeks.
“You wake up in the truck and look out the windshield and see nothing. That’s hard. That’s hard to swallow,” Anthony said.
Disaster survivors are having to wait longer to get aid from the federal government, according to a new Associated Press analysis of decades of data. On average, it took less than two weeks for a governor’s request for a presidential disaster declaration to be granted in the 1990s and early 2000s. That rose to about three weeks during the past decade under presidents from both major parties. It’s taking more than a month, on average, during Trump’s current term, the AP found.
The delays mean individuals must wait to receive federal aid for daily living expenses, temporary lodging and home repairs. Delays in disaster declarations also can hamper recovery efforts by local officials uncertain whether they will receive federal reimbursement for cleaning up debris and rebuilding infrastructure. The AP collaborated with Mississippi Today and Mississippi Free Press on the effects of these delays for this report.
“The message that I get in the delay, particularly for the individual assistance, is that the federal government has turned its back on its own people,” said Bob Griffin, dean of the College of Emergency Preparedness, Homeland Security and Cybersecurity at the University at Albany in New York. “It’s a fundamental shift in the position of this country.”
The wait for disaster aid has grown as Trump remakes government
The Federal Emergency Management Agency often consults immediately with communities to coordinate their initial disaster response. But direct payments to individuals, nonprofits and local governments must wait for a major disaster declaration from the president, who first must receive a request from a state, territory or tribe. Major disaster declarations are intended only for the most damaging events that are beyond the resources of states and local governments.
Trump has approved more than two dozen major disaster declarations since taking office in January, with an average wait of almost 34 days after a request. That ranged from a one-day turnaround after July’s deadly flash flooding in Texas to a 67-day wait after a request for aid because of a Michigan ice storm. The average wait is up from a 24-day delay during his first term and is nearly four times as long as the average for former Republican President George H.W. Bush, whose term from 1989-1993 coincided with the implementation of a new federal law setting parameters for disaster determinations.
The delays have grown over time, regardless of the party in power. Former Democratic President Joe Biden, in his last year in office, averaged 26 days to declare major disasters — longer than any year under former Democratic President Barack Obama.
FEMA did not respond to the AP’s questions about what factors are contributing to the trend.
Others familiar with FEMA noted that its process for assessing and documenting natural disasters has become more complex over time. Disasters have also become more frequent and intense because of climate change, which is mostly caused by the burning of fuels such as gas, coal and oil.
The wait for disaster declarations has spiked as Trump’s administration undertakes an ambitious makeover of the federal government that has shed thousands of workers and reexamined the role of FEMA. A recently published letter from current and former FEMA employees warned the cuts could become debilitating if faced with a large-enough disaster. The letter also lamented that the Trump administration has stopped maintaining or removed long-term planning tools focused on extreme weather and disasters.
Shortly after taking office, Trump floated the idea of “getting rid” of FEMA, asserting: “It’s very bureaucratic, and it’s very slow.”
FEMA’s acting chief suggested more recently that states should shoulder more responsibility for disaster recovery, though FEMA thus far has continued to cover three-fourths of the costs of public assistance to local governments, as required under federal law. FEMA pays the full cost of its individual assistance.
Former FEMA Administrator Pete Gaynor, who served during Trump’s first term, said the delay in issuing major disaster declarations likely is related to a renewed focus on making sure the federal government isn’t paying for things state and local governments could handle.
“I think they’re probably giving those requests more scrutiny,” Gaynor said. “And I think it’s probably the right thing to do, because I think the (disaster) declaration process has become the ‘easy button’ for states.”
The Associated Press on Monday received a statement from White House spokeswoman Abigail Jackson in response to a question about why it is taking longer to issue major natural disaster declarations:
“President Trump provides a more thorough review of disaster declaration requests than any Administration has before him. Gone are the days of rubber stamping FEMA recommendations – that’s not a bug, that’s a feature. Under prior Administrations, FEMA’s outsized role created a bloated bureaucracy that disincentivized state investment in their own resilience. President Trump is committed to right-sizing the Federal government while empowering state and local governments by enabling them to better understand, plan for, and ultimately address the needs of their citizens. The Trump Administration has expeditiously provided assistance to disasters while ensuring taxpayer dollars are spent wisely to supplement state actions, not replace them.”
In Mississippi, frustration festered during wait for aid
The tornado that struck Anthony’s home in rural Tylertown on March 15 packed winds up to 140 mph. It was part of a powerful system that wrecked homes, businesses and lives across multiple states.
Mississippi’s governor requested a federal disaster declaration on April 1. Trump granted that request 50 days later, on May 21, while approving aid for both individuals and public entities.
On that same day, Trump also approved eight other major disaster declarations for storms, floods or fires in seven other states. In most cases, more than a month had passed since the request and about two months since the date of those disasters.
If a presidential declaration and federal money had come sooner, Anthony said he wouldn’t have needed to spend weeks sleeping in a truck before he could afford to rent the trailer where he is now living. His house was uninsured, Anthony said, and FEMA eventually gave him $30,000.
In nearby Jayess in Lawrence County, Dana Grimes had insurance but not enough to cover the full value of her damaged home. After the eventual federal declaration, Grimes said FEMA provided about $750 for emergency expenses, but she is now waiting for the agency to determine whether she can receive more.
“We couldn’t figure out why the president took so long to help people in this country,” Grimes said. “I just want to tie up strings and move on. But FEMA — I’m still fooling with FEMA.”
Jonathan Young said he gave up on applying for FEMA aid after the Tylertown tornado killed his 7-year-old son and destroyed their home. The process seemed too difficult, and federal officials wanted paperwork he didn’t have, Young said. He made ends meet by working for those cleaning up from the storm.
“It’s a therapy for me,” Young said, “to pick up the debris that took my son away from me.”
Historically, presidential disaster declarations containing individual assistance have been approved more quickly than those providing assistance only to public entities, according to the AP’s analysis. That remains the case under Trump, though declarations for both types are taking longer.
About half the major disaster declarations approved by Trump this year have included individual assistance.
Some people whose homes are damaged turn to shelters hosted by churches or local nonprofit organizations in the initial chaotic days after a disaster. Others stay with friends or family or go to a hotel, if they can afford it.
But some insist on staying in damaged homes, even if they are unsafe, said Chris Smith, who administered FEMA’s individual assistance division under three presidents from 2015-2022. If homes aren’t repaired properly, mold can grow, compounding the recovery challenges.
That’s why it’s critical for FEMA’s individual assistance to get approved quickly — ideally, within two weeks of a disaster, said Smith, who’s now a disaster consultant for governments and companies.
“You want to keep the people where they are living. You want to ensure those communities are going to continue to be viable and recover,” Smith said. “And the earlier that individual assistance can be delivered … the earlier recovery can start.”
In the periods waiting for declarations, the pressure falls on local officials and volunteers to care for victims and distribute supplies.
In Walthall County, where Tylertown is, insurance agent Les Lampton remembered watching the weather news as the first tornado missed his house by just an eighth of a mile. Lampton, who moonlights as a volunteer firefighter, navigated the collapsed trees in his yard and jumped into action. About 45 minutes later, the second tornado hit just a mile away.
“It was just chaos from there on out,” Lampton said.
Walthall County, with a population of about 14,000, hasn’t had a working tornado siren in about 30 years, Lampton said. He added there isn’t a public safe room in the area, although a lot of residents have ones in their home.
Rural areas with limited resources are hit hard by delays in receiving funds through FEMA’s public assistance program, which, unlike individual assistance, only reimburses local entities after their bills are paid. Long waits can stoke uncertainty and lead cost-conscious local officials to pause or scale-back their recovery efforts.
In Walthall County, officials initially spent about $700,000 cleaning up debris, then suspended the cleanup for more than a month because they couldn’t afford to spend more without assurance they would receive federal reimbursement, said county emergency manager Royce McKee. Meanwhile, rubble from splintered trees and shattered homes remained piled along the roadside, creating unsafe obstacles for motorists and habitat for snakes and rodents.
When it received the federal declaration, Walthall County took out a multimillion-dollar loan to pay contractors to resume the cleanup.
“We’re going to pay interest and pay that money back until FEMA pays us,” said Byran Martin, an elected county supervisor. “We’re hopeful that we’ll get some money by the first of the year, but people are telling us that it could be [longer].”
Lampton, who took after his father when he joined the volunteer firefighters 40 years ago, lauded the support of outside groups such as Cajun Navy, Eight Days of Hope, Samaritan’s Purse and others. That’s not to mention the neighbors who brought their own skid steers and power saws to help clear trees and other debris, he added.
“That’s the only thing that got us through this storm, neighbors helping neighbors,” Lampton said. “If we waited on the government, we were going to be in bad shape.”
Lieb reported from Jefferson City, Missouri, and Wildeman from Hartford, Connecticut.
Update 98/25: This story has been updated to include a White House statement released after publication.
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
The post Presidents are taking longer to declare major natural disasters. For some, the wait is agonizing appeared first on mississippitoday.org
Note: The following A.I. based commentary is not part of the original article, reproduced above, but is offered in the hopes that it will promote greater media literacy and critical thinking, by making any potential bias more visible to the reader –Staff Editor.
Political Bias Rating: Center-Left
This article presents a critical view of the Trump administration’s handling of disaster declarations, highlighting delays and their negative impacts on affected individuals and communities. It emphasizes concerns about government downsizing and reduced federal support, themes often associated with center-left perspectives that favor robust government intervention and social safety nets. However, it also includes statements from Trump administration officials defending their approach, providing some balance. Overall, the tone and framing lean slightly left of center without being overtly partisan.
Mississippi Today
Northeast Mississippi speaker and worm farmer played key role in Coast recovery after Hurricane Katrina
The 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina slamming the Mississippi Gulf Coast has come and gone, rightfully garnering considerable media attention.
But still undercovered in the 20th anniversary saga of the storm that made landfall on Aug. 29, 2005, and caused unprecedented destruction is the role that a worm farmer from northeast Mississippi played in helping to revitalize the Coast.
House Speaker Billy McCoy, who died in 2019, was a worm farmer from the Prentiss, not Alcorn County, side of Rienzi — about as far away from the Gulf Coast as one could be in Mississippi.
McCoy grew other crops, but a staple of his operations was worm farming.
Early after the storm, the House speaker made a point of touring the Coast and visiting as many of the House members who lived on the Coast as he could to check on them.
But it was his action in the forum he loved the most — the Mississippi House — that is credited with being key to the Coast’s recovery.
Gov. Haley Barbour had called a special session about a month after the storm to take up multiple issues related to Katrina and the Gulf Coast’s survival and revitalization. The issue that received the most attention was Barbour’s proposal to remove the requirement that the casinos on the Coast be floating in the Mississippi Sound.
Katrina wreaked havoc on the floating casinos, and many operators said they would not rebuild if their casinos had to be in the Gulf waters. That was a crucial issue since the casinos were a major economic engine on the Coast, employing an estimated 30,000 in direct and indirect jobs.
It is difficult to fathom now the controversy surrounding Barbour’s proposal to allow the casinos to locate on land next to the water. Mississippi’s casino industry that was birthed with the early 1990s legislation was still new and controversial.
Various religious groups and others had continued to fight and oppose the casino industry and had made opposition to the expansion of gambling a priority.
Opposition to casinos and expansion of casinos was believed to be especially strong in rural areas, like those found in McCoy’s beloved northeast Mississippi. It was many of those rural areas that were the homes to rural white Democrats — now all but extinct in the Legislature but at the time still a force in the House.
So, voting in favor of casino expansion had the potential of being costly for what was McCoy’s base of power: the rural white Democrats.
Couple that with the fact that the Democratic-controlled House had been at odds with the Republican Barbour on multiple issues ranging from education funding to health care since Barbour was inaugurated in January 2004.
Barbour set records for the number of special sessions called by the governor. Those special sessions often were called to try to force the Democratic-controlled House to pass legislation it killed during the regular session.
The September 2005 special session was Barbour’s fifth of the year. For context, current Gov. Tate Reeves has called four in his nearly six years as governor.
There was little reason to expect McCoy to do Barbour’s bidding and lead the effort in the Legislature to pass his most controversial proposal: expanding casino gambling.
But when Barbour ally Lt. Gov. Amy Tuck, who presided over the Senate, refused to take up the controversial bill, Barbour was forced to turn to McCoy.
The former governor wrote about the circumstances in an essay he penned on the 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina for Mississippi Today Ideas.
“The Senate leadership, all Republicans, did not want to go first in passing the onshore casino law,” Barbour wrote. “So, I had to ask Speaker McCoy to allow it to come to the House floor and pass. He realized he should put the Coast and the state’s interests first. He did so, and the bill passed 61-53, with McCoy voting no.
“I will always admire Speaker McCoy, often my nemesis, for his integrity in putting the state first.”
Incidentally, former Rep. Bill Miles of Fulton, also in northeast Mississippi, was tasked by McCoy with counting, not whipping votes, to see if there was enough support in the House to pass the proposal. Not soon before the key vote, Miles said years later, he went to McCoy and told him there were more than enough votes to pass the legislation so he was voting no and broached the idea of the speaker also voting no.
It is likely that McCoy would have voted for the bill if his vote was needed.
Despite his no vote, the Biloxi Sun Herald newspaper ran a large photo of McCoy and hailed the Rienzi worm farmer as a hero for the Mississippi Gulf Coast.
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
The post Northeast Mississippi speaker and worm farmer played key role in Coast recovery after Hurricane Katrina appeared first on mississippitoday.org
Note: The following A.I. based commentary is not part of the original article, reproduced above, but is offered in the hopes that it will promote greater media literacy and critical thinking, by making any potential bias more visible to the reader –Staff Editor.
Political Bias Rating: Centrist
The article presents a factual and balanced account of the political dynamics surrounding Hurricane Katrina recovery efforts in Mississippi, focusing on bipartisan cooperation between Democratic and Republican leaders. It highlights the complexities of legislative decisions without overtly favoring one party or ideology, reflecting a neutral and informative tone typical of centrist reporting.
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