Mississippi Today
For this Delta State student with autism, ‘there’s always another wall to climb with no ladder’
For this Delta State student with autism, ‘there’s always another wall to climb with no ladder’
CLEVELAND — On a recent Thursday afternoon, Avery Williams hurried down an empty hallway in Kethley Hall with his mother, Deloris-Clay Williams. The 25-year-old was looking for a room he’d never been in before where, in less than five minutes, a meeting was scheduled to start that would determine the fate of his academic future at Delta State University.
His mother eventually found the sign, stamped on a window in sharp, black letters, that signaled they were in the right place: “College of Arts and Sciences — Office of the Dean.”
This was supposed to be Avery’s last semester. Avery has autism, a developmental disability that affects communication and learning, and he enrolled at Delta State two and a half years ago after getting his associate degree from the community college in his hometown of Moorhead.
By going away to college, Avery hoped to achieve two dreams: Become a cinematographer or video editor, and learn to live on his own. Deloris, who has lupus, was increasingly finding it harder to assist him.
But in the midst of the pandemic, Avery struggled to communicate with his professors via message board. His GPA steadily dropped. Over winter break, he was suspended. Nobody told him in person. All he got was an email.
Now he wouldn’t be able to graduate with the art degree he’d worked so hard for, and had taken out more than $30,000 in student loans to get.
Avery’s struggle to get through DSU is just one example of how universities in Mississippi are failing students with autism. While one state agency offers peer mentoring services, only one public university in Mississippi has an in-house program designed for students with autism. And there is no comprehensive data on the rate at which students with disabilities, including those with autism, enroll and graduate from college in Mississippi.
What was happening to Avery didn’t seem fair to Deloris. She decided to intervene. A retired public school teacher trained at DSU, she was used to standing up for Avery’s right to an education. It’d just been awhile since she’d had to do so.
On Jan. 9, the first day of classes, Deloris sent the dean, Ellen Green, a fiery email requesting Avery be readmitted to the art program. She signed it, “desperate parent.”
It got Avery a meeting. In the waiting room outside the dean’s office, Deloris looked over questions she’d prepared in a comprehensive notebook. Avery stood silently in the middle of the room, his arms crossed, anxious to know if he would be able to re-enroll and take classes. He just wanted to get the meeting over with.
At 4 years old, Avery could read, write his first and last name, and count to 100. He’d also cry at the sight of hair on the floor. If Deloris gave him a pencil and paper, she said he would draw circles “over and over.” The only food he’d eat was chicken nuggets.
Then he got encephalitis. It led to memory loss and intensified his repetitive behaviors. By the time Avery started elementary school, Deloris was certain he had autism. He was quiet and avoided playing with other kids unless it was basketball with his younger brother, Alex Williams.
Though Deloris begged Avery’s teachers to test him for autism, they wouldn’t. He wasn’t tested for any learning disabilities until fifth grade and only after Deloris said she wrote a complaint to MDE’s Office of Special Education.
That experience taught Deloris how to advocate for Avery, but it also foreshadowed just how much time and effort it would take to bend Mississippi’s school system in his favor.
It also set up a pattern that Deloris learned to expect any time she spoke up for Avery: Besting one hurdle usually brought another. Despite Deloris’s certainty, the first doctor to test Avery diagnosed him with an unspecified learning disability, not autism. Avery wouldn’t be diagnosed with autism until he was 15.
This is a common experience for Black children with autism. A 2007 study showed that at their first visit, Black children were 2.6 times less likely to be diagnosed than white children. ADHD was instead the most common diagnosis. As a result, they tend to receive treatment later in childhood when it’s less likely to be effective.
“As a parent, I have felt like I have failed him so many times,” Deloris said. “No matter how hard I work, it’s like there’s always another wall to climb with no ladder, so you gotta find a way around it, through it, over it — without help.”
Avery’s elementary school was down the road from Deloris’ house, right next to the levy his granddad helped build. She could keep a close eye on him. But middle school was another matter.
Deloris didn’t want to send Avery to the public junior high — it had a reputation for fighting. Instead, she enrolled him in a nearby private religious academy.
“It was supposed to be like a Christian school,” she said.
Avery said he was ignored by the teacher unless he did something wrong, like peeking at the answer key for tests, even if other kids did the same thing. This, too, is a regular experience for Black students with disabilities. According to the U.S. Department of Education’s Office of Special Education Programs, they’re more likely to be disciplined than their peers.
Toward the end of the 2014 school year, Avery and his brother were waiting outside when another student said the teacher wanted to see him.
“When he said that, I felt like something wasn’t right about this,” Avery said. “But I would just respect my teachers anyway, so I just went, despite the feeling.”
A second teacher came into the room and used a paddle on Avery while his teacher watched.
“I had no idea what was going on,” Avery said. “There was no explanation.”
When Deloris picked the boys up from school, she said that Avery, who never cries, was so angry he had tears streaming down his face.
They never went back to that school. But to this day, the experience shaped how Avery communicates with his teachers.
In summer 2020, Avery sat at Deloris’ kitchen table. Together they wrote a list of six accommodations they hoped he’d get at DSU that fall, including “extended time on projects/tests” and “daily life assistance with rules/ activities.”
Accommodations like these helped Avery get his associate degree at Mississippi Delta Community College.
With extra time for assignments, Avery went to MDCC’s tutoring center every day, braving rain and a neighbor’s pack of loud dogs. Algebra was his toughest subject, but with a tutor’s help, Avery was showing his classmates how to solve problems.
But when he got to DSU, the only accommodation Avery received was extended time on tests, according to a fall 2020 letter from the university.
This is not unusual. The laws that govern disability services in college — the Americans with Disabilities Act and Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 — are less extensive than those in K-12. Administrators have latitude to decline accommodations that would “fundamentally alter” a course or pose an undue financial burden to the university.
That fall, the university did not have a dedicated disability coordinator, according to budget documents. Kashanta Jackson, the director of the Office of Health and Counseling Services, filled the role until August last year when it became its own position.
In recent years, anywhere from just 14 students to 60 have requested accommodations each semester, according to a records request.
Jackson told Mississippi Today that since she started at DSU in early 2020, her office has never denied a student’s request for accommodation, though she signed the letter granting only one to Avery.
Deloris said, in retrospect, the partial denial was a sign that her alma mater might not be the place for Avery. It also bothered her that when she asked why Avery only received one accommodation, the university said his request was private under the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act.
If Deloris wanted to talk to the school on Avery’s behalf, he’d have to sign a waiver.
FERPA is intended to protect students’ privacy, but for parents of students with disabilities, it can be a barrier, said Jerry Alliston, the assistant director of the University of Southern Mississippi’s Institute for Disability Studies.
It made Deloris feel like she wasn’t supposed to step in for Avery. But she knew that no one else on campus was advocating for him.
One incident at the end of Avery’s first fall semester demonstrated Deloris’ worry. The day she picked Avery up from his dorm, she went to his bathroom when he exclaimed, “don’t turn the light on!”
There was water dripping from the ceiling — it had been almost the whole semester. Avery didn’t know how he was supposed to request a fix because no one had shown him where to go.
DSU has been candid in the past about its shortcomings serving students with disabilities.
“I’m not saying students with disabilities shouldn’t come to DSU, but if accommodations are their priority, then they should look at universities that are able to be equipped to accommodate them,” Dr. Richard Houston, the former director of counseling, told the student newspaper in 2019.
Four years later, there’s still little programming and no clubs for students with disabilities. Disability Services mainly approves accommodations and relays students’ requests to their professors. But it doesn’t track the outcomes of the students it serves, according to a records request, such as if they graduated or not.
Jackson said she hopes to grow DSU’s services but that “it’s kind of hard to say what we’re gonna get more of without knowing specifically what students we’re going to have.” While funding is a limiting factor, she said her office is “doing pretty well with what we have.”
It’s not just DSU. The entire state of Mississippi is behind when it comes to serving students with disabilities. The state Department of Rehabilitation Services funds peer mentoring programs for students with disabilities in Mississippi, Alliston said, but just two universities – University of Southern Mississippi and Mississippi State University – have taken the offer. And MSU is the only university in the state with a case management program for students with autism.
Avery almost went to MSU, but it was too far away. A peer mentoring program would have benefited him, particularly with talking to professors. He’d email them a question about an assignment, only to be told to check the syllabus, which he had read and didn’t understand.
When Avery got to DSU, his GPA was a 2.88 GPA. That fall, he failed two classes and got a D in another. He did a little better in the spring.
One class in particular challenged him: 2-D design. He’d failed it repeatedly, but it kept getting put on his schedule. Deloris even tried to see if Avery could take a similar course at MDCC or Mississippi Valley State University.
By summer 2021, Avery’s GPA had dropped to 2.39. He received a warning from the financial aid office for not making satisfactory academic progress.In order to get more financial aid, Avery had to file an appeal form. He wrote that the reason he failed some classes was because online learning was “giving me trouble to figure out what the teacher is looking for in an assignment.”
“If things continue to look up in the future and we can get back to attending class in person, I believe I will do a lot better,” he wrote.
The meeting with the dean lasted 45 minutes.
There was a process for Avery to get re-admitted to the art program, Green had told them, and it was easy. If the adviser was available, he could help Avery make a plan that day and the suspension would be lifted.
Avery and Deloris walked out of Green’s office with palpable relief. Deloris had tears in her eyes, and Avery’s posture had relaxed.
But the more Deloris thought about the meeting, it started to bother her. If the process was as easy as Greensaid, why did it take Deloris and Avery so much effort to make it happen?
They’d soon see it wasn’t going to be easy.
The next day, Avery and Deloris drove back to DSU so he could sign up for classes. When they got to his adviser’s office, the re-admittance plan was written and printed out. His adviser had already signed it. All Avery had to do was sign it too.
Other elements of the plan spoke to the lack of input from Avery: His schedule once again included 2-D design.Nobody mentioned course substitutions, a common type of acommodation, as an option.
Deloris was confused. She thought they were going to create the plan together. It reminded Deloris of a dynamic she’d seen before between Avery and authority figures: “They lead the conversation,” she said, “and give you little to say.”
Still, at least Avery was no longer suspended.
Then on Jan. 19, Avery received a puzzling letter from financial aid after he’d emailed them with a question. It read: “Avery, We are showing that you are currently on suspension for the Spring 2023 semester.”
He’d have to go through another appeals process to get his federal financial aid, including the Pell Grant and student loans, reinstated. Otherwise, Deloris would be on the hook for tuition — all $9,000, a sum she can’t afford. Avery would have to drop out.
No one had mentioned there’d be a second process for financial aid, Deloris said. Just like every success, there was another yet another roadblock.
If Avery can stay in school, he’ll graduate next year. But he won’t know for another month if he’ll get financial aid this semester or not.
Deloris and Avery’s brother, Alex, said they think he is holding back from sharing how disappointed he is with his experience at DSU because he doesn’t want to get anyone in trouble.
She thinks about just how much noise it took her and Avery to get help from the dean, and how quickly and easily the university fixed the issues in comparison.
“If I didn’t say anything, then what would happen? He would’ve just been left out,” Deloris said. “What if I was in one of those stages where I’m really sick and I’m in the bed and I can’t go nowhere. Then what? I want to trust that if I can’t come with him, he’s still going to be treated fairly. And given time. And effort.”
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=205853
Ties that bind, not lines that divide, at the heart of “Little Women” are what make Louisa May Alcott’s beloved novel such an enduring classic. More than a century and a half since its 1868 publication, the March sisters’ coming-of-age tale continues to resonate in fresh approaches, say cast and crew in a musical version opening this week at New Stage Theatre in Jackson, Mississippi.
“Little Women, The Broadway Musical” adds songs to Alcott’s story of the four distinct March sisters — traditional, lovely Meg, spirited tomboy and writer Jo, quiet and gentle Beth, and artistic, pampered Amy. They are growing into young women under the watchful eye of mother Marmee as their father serves as an Army chaplain in the Civil War. “Little Women, The Broadway Musical” performances run March 25 through April 6 at New Stage Theatre.
In a serendipitous move, the production coincides with Women’s History Month in March, and has a female director at the helm — Malaika Quarterman, in her New Stage Theatre directing debut. Logistics and scheduling preferences landed the musical in March, to catch school matinees with the American classic.
The novel has inspired myriad adaptations in film, TV, stage and opera, plus literary retellings by other authors. This musical version debuted on Broadway in 2005, with music by Jason Howland, lyrics by Mindi Dickstein and book (script) by Allan Knee.
“The music in this show brings out the heart of the characters in a way that a movie or a straight play, or even the book, can’t do,” said Cameron Vipperman, whose play-within-a-play role helps illustrate the writer Jo’s growth in the story. She read the book at age 10, and now embraces how the musical dramatizes, speeds up and reconstructs the timeline for more interest and engagement.
“What a great way to introduce kids that haven’t read the book,” director Quarterman said, hitting the highlights and sending them to the pages for a deeper dive on characters they fell in love with over the two-and-a-half-hour run time.
Joy, familial warmth, love, courage, loss, grief and resilience are all threads in a story that has captivated generations and continues to find new audiences and fresh acclaim (the 2019 film adaptation by Greta Gerwig earned six Academy Award nominations).
In current contentious times, when diversity, equity and inclusion programs are being ripped out or rolled back, the poignant, women-centered narrative maintains a power to reach deep and unite.
“Stories where females support each other, instead of rip each other apart to get to the finish line — which would be the goal of getting the man or something — are very few and far between sometimes,” Quarterman said. “It’s so special because it was written so long ago, with the writer being such a strong dreamer, and dreaming big for women.
“For us to actualize it, where a female artistic producer chooses this show and believes in a brand new female director and then this person gets to empower these great, local, awesome artists — It’s just really been special to see this story and its impact ripple through generations of dreamers.” For Quarterman, a 14-year drama teacher with Jackson Public Schools active in community theater and professional regional theater, “To be able to tell this story here, for New Stage, is pretty epic for me.”
Alcott’s story is often a touchstone for young girls, and this cast of grown women finds much in the source material that they still hold dear, and that resonates in new ways.
“I relate to Jo more than any other fictional character that exists,” Kristina Swearingen said of her character, the central figure Jo March. “At different parts of my life, I have related to her in different parts of hers.”
The Alabama native, more recently of New York, recalled her “energetic, crazy, running-around-having-a-grand-old-time” youth in high school and college, then a career-driven purpose that led her, like Jo, to move to New York.
Swearingen first did this show in college, before the loss of grandparents and a major move. Now, “I know what it’s like to grieve the loss of a loved one, and to live so far away from home, and wanting to go home and be with your family but also wanting to be in a place where your career can take off. .. It hits a lot closer to home.”
As one of four sisters in real life, Frannie Dean of Flora draws on a wealth of memories in playing Beth — including her own family position as next to the youngest of the girls. She and siblings read the story together in their homeschooled childhood, assigning each other roles.
“Omigosh, this is my life,” she said, chuckling. “We would play pretend all day. … ‘Little Women’ is really sweet in that aspect, to really be able to carry my own experience with my family and bring it into the show. … It’s timeless in its nature, its warmth and what it brings to people.”
Jennifer Smith of Clinton, as March family matriarch Marmee, found her way in through a song. First introduced to Marmee’s song “Here Alone” a decade ago when starting voice lessons as an adult, she made it her own. “It became an audition piece for me. It became a dream role for me. It’s been pivotal in opening up doors for me.”
She relishes aging into this role, countering a common fear of women in the entertainment field that they may “age out” of desirable parts. “It’s just a full-circle moment for me, and I’m grateful for it.”
Quarterman fell in love with the 1969 film version she watched with her sister when they were little, adoring the family’s playfulness and stability. Amid teenage angst, she identified with the inevitable growth and change that came with siblings growing up and moving on. Being a mom brings a whole different lens.
“Seeing these little people in your life just growing up, being their own unique versions, all going through their own arc — it’s just fun, and I think that’s why you can stay connected” to the story at any life juncture, she said.
Cast member Slade Haney pointed out the rarity of a story set on a Northeastern homestead during the Civil War.
“You’re getting to see what it was like for the women whose husbands were away at war — how moms struggled, how sisters struggled. You had to make your own means. … I think both men and women can see themselves in these characters, in wanting to be independent like Jo, or like Amy wanting to have something of value that belongs to you and not just just feel like you’re passed over all the time, and Meg, to be valuable to someone else, and in Beth, for everyone to be happy and content and love each other,” Haney said.
New Stage Theatre Artistic Director Francine Reynolds drew attention, too, to the rarity of an American classic for the stage offering an abundance of women’s roles that can showcase Jackson metro’s talent pool. “We just always have so many great women,” she said, and classics — “To Kill a Mockingbird” and “Death of a Salesman,” for instance — often offer fewer parts for them, though contemporary dramas are more balanced.
Reynolds sees value in the musical’s timing and storyline. “Of course, we need to celebrate the contributions of women. This was a woman who was trying to be a writer in 1865, ’66, ’67. That’s, to me, a real trailblazing thing.
“It is important to show, this was a real person — Louisa May Alcott, personified as Jo. It’s important to hold these people up as role models for other young girls, to show that you can do this, too. You can dream your dream. You can strive to break boundaries.”
It is a key reminder of advancements that may be threatened. “We’ve made such strides,” Reynolds said, “and had so many great programs to open doors for people, that I feel like those doors are going to start closing, just because of things you are allowed to say and things you aren’t allowed.”
For tickets, $50 (discounts for seniors, students, military), visit www.newstagetheatre.com or the New Stage Theatre box office, or call 601-948-3533.
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.
Tracy Harden stood outside her Chuck’s Dairy Bar in Rolling Fork, teary eyed, remembering not the EF-4 tornado that nearly wiped the town off the map two years before. Instead, she became emotional, “even after all this time,” she said, thinking of the overwhelming help people who’d come from all over selflessly offered.
“We’re back now, she said, smiling. “People have been so kind.”
“I stepped out of that cooler two years ago and saw everything, and I mean, everything was just… gone,” she said, her voice trailing off. “My God, I thought. What are we going to do now? But people came and were so giving. It’s remarkable, and such a blessing.”
“And to have another one come on almost the exact date the first came,” she said, shaking her head. “I got word from these young storm chasers I’d met. He told me they were tracking this one, and it looked like it was coming straight for us in Rolling Fork.”
“I got up and went outside.”
“And there it was!”
“I cannot tell you what went through me seeing that tornado form in the sky.”
The tornado that touched down in Rolling Fork last Sunday did minimal damage and claimed no lives.
Horns honk as people travel along U.S. 61. Harden smiles and waves.
She heads back into her restaurant after chatting with friends to resume grill duties as people, some local, some just passing through town, line up for burgers and ice cream treats.
Rolling Fork is mending, slowly. Although there is evidence of some rebuilding such as new homes under construction, many buildings like the library and post office remain boarded up and closed. A brutal reminder of that fateful evening two years ago.
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.
George Foreman, surely one of the world’s most intriguing and transformative sports figures of the 20th century, died over the weekend at the age of 76. Please indulge me a few memories.
This was back when professional boxing was in its heyday. Muhammad Ali was heavyweight champion of the world for a second time. The lower weight divisions featured such skilled champions and future champs as Alex Arugello, Roberto “Hands of Stone” Duran, Tommy “Hit Man” Hearns and Sugar Ray Leonard.
Boxing was front page news all over the globe. Indeed, Ali was said to be the most famous person in the world and had stunned the boxing world by stopping the previously undefeated Foreman in an eighth round knockout in Kinshasa, Zaire, in October of 1974. Foreman, once an Olympic gold medalist at age 19, had won his previous 40 professional fights and few had lasted past the second round. Big George, as he was known, packed a fearsome punch.
My dealings with Foreman began in January of 1977, roughly 27 months after his Ali debacle with Foreman in the middle of a boxing comeback. At the time, I was the sports editor of my hometown newspaper in Hattiesburg when the news came that Foreman was going to fight a Puerto Rican professional named Pedro Agosto in Pensacola, just three hours away.
Right away, I applied for press credentials and was rewarded with a ringside seats at the Pensacola Civic Center. I thought I was going to cover a boxing match. It turned out more like an execution.
The mismatch was evident from the pre-fight introductions. Foreman towered over the 5-foot, 11-inch Agosto. Foreman had muscles on top of muscles, Agosto not so much. When they announced Agosto weighed 205 pounds, the New York sports writer next to me wise-cracked, “Yeah, well what is he going to weigh without his head?”
It looked entirely possible we might learn.
Foreman toyed with the smaller man for three rounds, almost like a full-grown German shepherd dealing with a tiny, yapping Shih Tzu. By the fourth round, Big George had tired of the yapping. With punches that landed like claps of thunder, Foreman knocked Agosto down three times. Twice, Agosto struggled to his feet after the referee counted to nine. Nearly half a century later I have no idea why Agosto got up. Nobody present– or the national TV audience – would have blamed him for playing possum. But, no, he got up the second time and stumbled over into the corner of the ring right in front of me. And that’s where he was when Foreman hit him with an evil right uppercut to the jaw that lifted the smaller man a foot off the canvas and sprayed me and everyone in the vicinity with Agosto’s blood, sweat and snot – thankfully, no brains. That’s when the ref ended it.
It remains the only time in my sports writing career I had to buy a T-shirt at the event to wear home.
So, now, let’s move ahead 18 years to July of 1995. Foreman had long since completed his comeback by winning back the heavyweight championship. He had become a preacher. He also had become a pitch man for a an indoor grill that bore his name and would sell more than 100 million units. He was a millionaire many times over. He made far more for hawking that grill than he ever made as a fighter. He had become a beloved figure, known for his warm smile and his soothing voice. And now he was coming to Jackson to sign his biography. His publishing company called my office to ask if I’d like an interview. I said I surely would.
One day at the office, I answered my phone and the familiar voice on the other end said, “This is George Foreman and I heard you wanted to talk to me.”
I told him I wanted to talk to him about his book but first I wanted to tell him he owed me a shirt.
“A shirt?” he said. “How’s that?”
I asked him if remembered a guy named Pedro Agosto. He said he did. “Man, I really hit that poor guy,” he said.
I thought you had killed him, I said, and I then told him about all the blood and snot that ruined my shirt.
“Man, I’m sorry about that,” he said. “I’d never hit a guy like that now. I was an angry, angry man back then.”
We had a nice conversation. He told me about finding his Lord. He told me about his 12 children, including five boys, all of whom he named George.
I asked him why he would give five boys the same name.
“I never met my father until late in his life,” Big George told me. “My father never gave me nothing. So I decided I was going to give all my boys something to remember me by. I gave them all my name.”
Yes, and he named one of his girls Georgette.
We did get around to talking about his book, and you will not be surprised by its title: “By George.”
This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.
://mississippitoday.org”>Mississippi Today.
Previously convicted child rapist now accused of rape, sodomy of another child in Baldwin County
NEW DETAILS: Accused Biloxi cop murderer not competent to stand trial
1 Dead, Officer and Bystander Hurt in Shootout | March 25, 2025 | News 19 at 9 p.m.
As West Tennessee community pressures Ford for promises, lawmakers curb ‘community benefits agreements’
Broad Street project concerns has business owners speaking out
032525-wtvd-electric-expansion-530p-elaina
‘We need your help’: Amelia County Food Pantry in need of new roof
LA seeks $1.9B bailout amid $1B deficit, $38M in lost revenue from fires | California
Founders of DC’s Corner Water tell how students inspired them | NBC4 Washington
Austin family’s life turned upside down after gallons of sewage backed up into her home | FOX 7 Aust
Local pharmacists advocating for passage of bill limiting control of pharmacy benefit managers
Saying it’s ‘about hate,’ Beshear vetoes ban on DEI in Kentucky public higher education
Survivors speak out ahead of Oklahoma inmate’s scheduled execution
Residents question Georgetown Co. plan for low-density development on golf courses
'Cold-blooded murder:' New filed court documents released for Marion man charged in OIS
I-35 crash: Witness confronts driver who caused deadly crash
DeSantis returns millions in federal funds as Florida cities receive DOGE letters
Domestic violence deaths reflect families’ loss and grief
Inside ICE enforcement in Maryland | NBC4 Washington
On this day in 1956
Previously convicted child rapist now accused of rape, sodomy of another child in Baldwin County
NEW DETAILS: Accused Biloxi cop murderer not competent to stand trial
1 Dead, Officer and Bystander Hurt in Shootout | March 25, 2025 | News 19 at 9 p.m.
032525-wtvd-electric-expansion-530p-elaina
‘We need your help’: Amelia County Food Pantry in need of new roof
Founders of DC’s Corner Water tell how students inspired them | NBC4 Washington
Austin family’s life turned upside down after gallons of sewage backed up into her home | FOX 7 Aust
Neighbor’s Quick 911 Call About Solar Panel Fire Likely Saves St. Charles Home
National Medal of Honor Museum in Arlington now open to the public
Food banks struggle with budget cuts
-
Local News Video1 day agoLocal pharmacists advocating for passage of bill limiting control of pharmacy benefit managers
-
News from the South - Kentucky News Feed5 days ago
Saying it’s ‘about hate,’ Beshear vetoes ban on DEI in Kentucky public higher education
-
News from the South - Oklahoma News Feed6 days ago
Survivors speak out ahead of Oklahoma inmate’s scheduled execution
-
News from the South - South Carolina News Feed7 days ago
Residents question Georgetown Co. plan for low-density development on golf courses
-
News from the South - South Carolina News Feed6 days ago
'Cold-blooded murder:' New filed court documents released for Marion man charged in OIS
-
News from the South - Florida News Feed2 days ago
DeSantis returns millions in federal funds as Florida cities receive DOGE letters
-
News from the South - Texas News Feed4 days ago
I-35 crash: Witness confronts driver who caused deadly crash
-
Mississippi Today4 days ago
On this day in 1956
