The move from urban to rural California as a cost-saving, survival measure

This story appeared in the Los Angeles Times this week under the headline, "L.A. sank them into debt. Will this family find a better life in rural California?"  It is the story of immigrants from Mexico who left  Los Angeles for Huron, population 6,754, in the Central Valley.  They made the move, in part, because they were not able to get ahead and, in fact, were sinking further into debt.  Here's an excerpt from Alejandra Reyes-Velarde's poignant story:  

While some urban dwellers fled to less crowded regions during the pandemic, working-class immigrants have largely stayed put, tied to jobs that required them to show up in person, as well as the extensive social networks of the big city.

Puebla, 44, is among the relatively few who have left, turning away from Los Angeles, long a beacon for immigrants from Latin America and Asia.

People questioned the decision. What would the kids do for fun? They might not have the same shot at success.

But Puebla and her husband decided that Huron held more opportunity.

* * * 

For a decade, Puebla’s family got by mostly on her husband’s salary. She managed their apartment building in exchange for cheaper rent — $1,000 instead of $1,700 for a similar two-bedroom unit.

The rent inched higher, along with gas.

The pandemic pushed them closer to the edge. With repairs inside apartments put off to avoid transmitting the virus, Cabrera’s hours were cut. Their debt skyrocketed to more than $25,000.

The kids — three boys and a girl, ages 9 to 17— grew restless and bored with Zoom school and few chances to leave the house. Puebla did what she could to entertain them.

Recently, more homeless people were walking through the neighborhood. There was an uptick in shootings, and two cars were set ablaze.

Eliazer Cabrera, Puebla's husband, got an offer to manage an apartment complex in Huron; they had previously visited the area for quail hunting.    

The family didn’t hesitate. Puebla believed the job offer was a sign from God. The apartment complex was just a few years old, and they would get a three-bedroom unit at no cost.

The rest of the story is about how things went after the move.  Turns out, the grass was not necessarily greener in Huron.  Read this excellent story for the details, including some common complaints about rural living.  Particularly striking to me are the complaints about the Huron and other Fresno County schools--and details about how the cost of travel for necessities drives up the overall cost of living in a rural places.  

Other posts about (or at least mentioning) Huron, California are here.        

More on rural stuff in Newsom's California budget proposal

I wrote about this a few days ago here and now will just highlight some other items that are, shall we say, rural adjacent, though not necessarily labeled as "rural" explicitly in coverage of Newsom's new proposed budget.  What follows is all from Sammy Roth's climate newsletter, Boiling Point in the Los Angeles Times, which, by the way, is excellent.  My only beef is that in this column he does not use the word "rural" or "nonmetro" or even "wildland" (as in the "wildland-urban interface) anywhere in his reporting.  Here are excerpts from the newsletter, including the headings, that implicate rurality: 

1. Nothing more important than transportation.

The governor proposed $6.1 billion in new funds to help Californians ditch gasoline, including $256 million in clean car rebates and other programs for low-income families, $900 million to build electric vehicle chargers in low-income neighborhoods and $419 million for “community-based transportation equity projects.” Those projects could include electric van pools for farmworkers, for instance, or infrastructure to support electric bikes or scooters — whatever local communities determine they most need.  (emphasis added)  

Speaking of transportation, especially for farmworkers, the Los Angles Times reported a few days ago on a pathbreaking program out of the Central Valley town of Huron, population 6,754, at the southwest edge of Fresno County.  Here's an excerpt from Evan Halper's story about the city's small-fleet of electric cars for residents' free use:  

For most of Rey León’s life, the city of Huron has been a transportation desert.

When he was a child, it took three hours and 13 stops to ride a bus 53 miles to Fresno to visit a cousin in the hospital. “That experience stuck with me,” he said.

By the time he’d graduated from UC Berkeley and returned to the community to help his aging parents, little had changed. Even after he was elected Huron mayor five years ago, León’s lobbying for reliable bus routes to Fresno, Visalia and Coalinga got nowhere with regional planners, who chafed at the cost.

“It’s always about who do you value and what do you value,” León said. “Farmworker communities have never been valued.”

* * *

Tucked behind the boarded-up buildings of the town’s struggling main drag is an arsenal of innovation that León calls the Green Raiteros. It has put Huron on the map as perhaps the greenest migrant farmworker community in the country. Headquartered in a former diesel truck garage, the growing fleet of nine electric cars managed by León’s Green Raiteros program shuttles residents all over Fresno County free of charge.

Remarkable.  Well done, Mayor. 

Now, back to the Boiling Point newsletter and  the governor's budget:  

3. Cleaning up the electric grid

* * *  

The budget also sets aside $240 million for a specific pumped storage project at Oroville Dam, in the Sierra Nevada foothills.

When state officials built the State Water Project in the 1960s, they gave themselves the ability to “store” energy by pumping water upstream to Oroville Dam when electricity supply exceeded demand, then releasing water back downstream — spinning electric turbines along the way — when demand exceeded supply. But the system hasn’t been used for about 15 years, since it interferes with the state’s ability to release enough cold water from Oroville into the Feather River, to help salmon and other fish survive.

4. Not just traditional climate stuff

Sanchez was especially excited to talk about proposed investments that might not normally be considered part of a climate plan, but which she sees as critically important for helping Californians cope with — and work to prevent — rising temperatures.

One of those investments is $1 billion for new housing — and not just any housing, but “infill” housing within developed areas, rather than sprawling new subdivisions that create the need for long car trips. Newsom wants to spend $500 million building homes on “prime infill parcels in downtown-oriented areas.” Another $300 million would go to the Affordable Housing and Sustainable Communities program, which funds “land-use, housing, transportation and land preservation projects.”

* * * 

6. A Unique Approach to Lithium Valley

If you’ve been reading this newsletter for a while, you know one of my favorite stories is lithium extraction and geothermal energy in the Imperial Valley, at the southern end of the Salton Sea. The super-heated geothermal reservoir thousands of feet beneath the salty lake could produce loads of lithium for electric vehicle batteries, along with round-the-clock climate-friendly power.

Newsom’s budget doesn’t propose funding the companies looking to tap that reservoir, but it does dangle a promise that might be even more valuable — faster and simpler environmental permitting. In exchange for that regulatory support, the companies would need to agree to some kind of revenue sharing, to make sure the people of the Imperial Valley — a low-income, largely Latino region dominated by the agriculture industry — actually benefit from the new economic development.

7. Maybe Tesla Will Come Back

* * *

Other budget provisions could create new jobs plugging abandoned oil and gas wells — a big source of pollution in Los Angeles and statewide. In addition to $200 million for well plugging, Newsom proposed $15 million for a pilot program to train displaced oil and gas workers for those jobs, and a $50-million pilot fund to support displaced fossil fuel workers more broadly.8. Don’t worry, I didn’t forget fire and drought

Last year’s budget included $1.5 billion to fight wildfires. This year’s adds $1.2 billion, much of it for forest thinning, prescribed burns and other projects to reduce fire risks. It also adds $750 million to last year’s $5.2 billion for drought response, including $180 million for water suppliers to plug leaks, tear out grass and improve efficiency; $145 million in emergency assistance for communities at risk of going dry; $75 million to protect fish and wildlife; and $30 million for replenishing groundwater.

One other item that caught my attention: $40 million “to repurpose irrigated agricultural land to reduce reliance on groundwater while providing community health, economic well-being, water supply, habitat, renewable energy, and climate benefits.”

On Puerto Rican migration into rural South Dakota

The Washington Post reported last week on a South Dakota poultry producer's recruitment of labor from hurricane-ravaged Puerto Rico, noting that it is part of a "new answer in their ever-evolving struggle to find workers who would perform lower-rung American jobs." The story, by Chico Harlan, is datelined Huron, South Dakota, population 12,592.  The story begins with a vignette of weather shock and a hint of culture shock:

The airport terminal doors slid open and out came 22 people from Puerto Rico, walking a few weeks ago into the whipping South Dakota wind, not quite ready for what was ahead. One person still wore shorts. Another zipped up a hoodie. The group climbed into three waiting vans. 

“You guys good?” asked one of the drivers who would be taking them to their new home. “Does anybody speak English?” 

“No,” one person said, and the driver let the van go silent before turning up some country music. 

Through the windows, there were miles of emptiness, and Gretchen Velez, 21, looked at the others in the van and was quiet. She’d started the day on an island that was desperately short on electricity and clean water and jobs because of Hurricane Maria. Now, 10 hours later, she was in South Dakota — a place she knew almost nothing about, other than what a job recruiter had told her, that he had a position for her at a turkey processing plant in a rural town nearly 3,000 miles away.

Before Hurricane Maria, Velez was a college student. But when the hurricane hit, her classes were canceled and she lost her job due to the infrastructure and economic conditions on the island.

As for Dakota Provisions, her new employer, it introduces itself on its website thusly:

Dakota Provisions is a state-of-the-art turkey processing plant that produces homegrown, world-class products. Dakota Provisions manufactures and produces poultry and protein products that are specially designed for retail and food service partners. Located just east of the James River, Dakota Provisions was founded by a co-op of growers, most of whom are members of Hutterite communities.

Journalist Harlan explains that its been operating for some dozen years and a thousand people work there, making it one of the largest employers in the state.

Harlan puts what is happening at Dakota Provisions in wider economic and labor market context--particularly as it relates to immigration in rural locales.

[Dakota Provisions] transformed the character of Huron: The starting-level jobs — breast-pullers, carcass-loaders, bird-hangers — rarely attracted anyone from the local workforce, so instead the plant filled with people from all over the world. Soon, a town that had been 97 percent white had four Asian grocery stores and a school district where half the students were learning English as a second language, and at the center of it was a plant in constant need of workers — people who would be ready every morning as trucks dropped off 19,000 live turkeys that would be killed, deboned, sectioned and sliced, and wrapped for restaurants and grocery stores. 

Later Harlan notes:

Only a handful seemed to be local. The people hanging the birds were from Burma. Some of the people trimming the breasts were from Puerto Rico. Deeper in the factory, cutting skin, removing organs, there were people from Cuba and Guatemala and Vietnam. More than a dozen were from Chuuk, an island chain in Micronesia.

As for Velez, she says she hopes eventually to get back to Puerto Rico, but for now Huron, South Dakota and Dakota Provisions represent opportunity.  I felt empathy and sympathy for Velez as I read the story, but as I ponder the extremely difficult work she is doing for $10/hour, I find myself hoping Velez makes it home to Puerto Rico or can otherwise continue her education. 

My academic article about immigration into rural locales of non-gateway states is here.  I have written another post based largely on this same WaPo story for my new White Working Class and the Law Blog, for a class that kicks off Thursday.   That post springboards from this line of the story:  "ever-evolving struggle to find workers who would perform lower-rung American jobs."

The irony of food poverty in California's agriculturally rich Central Valley

A September 2009 Wall Street Journal article aptly summarized an ironic recent turn of events in California's Central Valley: As a result of “the combined punch of drought, water restrictions and recession... officials are handing out tons of food in the heart of one of the nation's most productive agricultural regions.”

The article briefly described the blights that have fallen upon the area in the past few years and the steps the state has taken to try to remedy the crisis:

The Central Valley… has suffered in the recession amid low demand for products like milk and almonds as well as a collapse in its once-booming housing market. At the same time, the region is grappling with drought and federal environmental rulings that have reduced water shipments to local farmers to as little as 10% of their normal allotments. Some farmers have sidelined much of their acreage, throwing packers and field pickers out of work.

In response, Governor Schwarzenegger declared a state of emergency in Fresno County in July 2009. At the same time, he approved four million dollars in food aid to alleviate the problems of hunger and unemployment in the region.

But the last food give-away was completed in mid-November and hunger in Fresno County is far from eradicated. The well intentioned assistance from the state seems to have merely highlighted the paradox of food poverty in California. And a 2008 report from the California Institute of Rural Studies (“CIRS”) adds another layer of irony: “[f]arm workers [and their families] are disproportionately impacted by the food problem.” The CIRS measured food security, “define[d] as access at all times to enough food for an active, healthy lifestyle,” amongst Central Valley farm workers. As reporter Pauline Bartolone states in a radio program on the same topic, “in Fresno many people don’t know what that’s like.”

An image Bartolone described in the broadcast, “When Food Gets Trucked into a Breadbasket,” captures the apparent injustice. She watched the last day of the dispersal of food aid in Huron, California, as the farm workers who put fruits and vegetables on our tables lined up to receive canned food which they could not afford to buy themselves. The unfortunate realities of the drought and the recession notwithstanding, the question still begs, why are people starving in a region of so much natural bounty?

Bartolone’s report for the National Radio Project illuminates many of the underlying causes of the predicament. First, she points out that farm work is seasonal and low paying, with farm workers earning between “$800 a month at best, and $500 at worst.” With such limited resources, healthy food choices are beyond the budgets of most farm workers supporting families. In past years, workers could augment their regular earnings by taking home produce from the fields. This used to be an easy and convenient source of fresh foods. After the recession hit, however, farmers changed their policies. Workers are no longer allowed to take any of the fruits and vegetables that they pick, according to Nayamin Martinez, of the Binational Center for the Development of Oaxacan Indigenous Communities, who is quoted in the broadcast. Farmers “say they are losing money” because of the practice, she states.

Furthermore, farm workers have limited access to fresh food because of where they live. Ms. Martinez explained that, “[i]f they live in the rural areas, the grocery stores… do not sell those products or if they sell them they are not good…. So if they want to consume those products they need to travel all the way to Fresno.” For many, the cost of gas for that drive is prohibitive.

The problem of food insecurity among farm workers is compounded now as more and more people who lost other jobs in the recession seek to enter the occupation. Ms. Martinez estimated that there are now ten times more farm workers “looking for the same job and less land being harvested.” With shortened harvest seasons due to drought further cutting into farm workers’ earnings, the need in California’s Central Valley has grown to epic proportions. Dana Wilkie, chief executive of the Fresno food bank, reported in the Wall Street Journal article that her volunteers are now serving up to 80 percent of the residents in Fresno County.

Unfortunately, finding solutions is as complicated as the problem itself. Food aid from the Governor cannot be depended upon indefinitely given the current fiscal crisis facing the State of California. Schwarzenegger asked President Obama in June to declare Fresno County a federal disaster area, hopeful that federal funds would “help finance food shipments to the county. But officials at the Federal Emergency Management Agency rejected the request, saying state and local entities had adequate resources.”

Solutions at the grassroots level are just as elusive.

Martinez says her organization is working on a community garden project in Farmersville, but they have run into obstacles. ‘First, there are not a lot of people who… let you borrow the land. Community organizations or even the people don’t have money to buy land so they must rely either on the government or a private person willing to let you use the land. So just getting started is hard.’

Martinez also cited legal problems such as difficulty drawing up contracts for use of the land without professional help as another challenge. Another appealing avenue for change, unionization of the farm workers to fight for issues such as higher wages, is not a viable option either given the National Labor Relations Act does not protect the rights of agricultural workers to bargain collectively.

Hopefully the national news coverage garnered by the irony of the situation will not be all for naught and someone will come to the rescue of farm workers in these troubled times. Perhaps this story can be used the jumping off point for the expansion of domestic Fair Food projects such as the one reported on by this blog earlier this week. Fair Food asks consumers to pay more for their food to ensure fair wages and working conditions for farm workers. Although the economy is not what it once was, the recession should not be an excuse to ignore the plight of farm workers so provocatively dramatized by this story.

ACA will raise cost of farm labor--and food, too

The New York Times reported today about the consequences of the Affordable Care Act (ACA) for the cost of farm labor and, in turn, the cost of food.  Sarah Varney's story is set in California, where farm laborers are typically employed year round rather than seasonally, as the case in many other places.  (Another post about year-round ag workers is here).  Employment of full-time workers means farm labor contractors cannot easily put the "workers on a 28-hour workweek like Starbucks, Denny's and Walmart are considering" doing to avoid the ACA mandate.  It also means that the contractors, who operate on very small margins--around 2%--will have to raise the prices they charge farms, which will in turn push up food prices.

Varney writes:  

Insurance brokers and health providers familiar with California's $43.5 billion agricultural industry estimate that meeting the law's minimum health plan requirement will cost about $1 per hour employee worked in the field.     

The minimum health plan under the new law will is expected cost about $250 a month in California’s growing regions, a premium which includes a high deductible--$5K a year.  With the following vignette, Varney explains why it is not feasible to pass this insurance costs onto the workers:  

On a recent morning, Jose Romero pulled weeds from a row of lush tomato plants. Mr. Romero, 36, arrived at the field around 5 a.m. and worked until sunset. Like many of the other workers in the tomato field, he was surprised to learn that his employer, Mr. Herrin at Sunrise Farm Labor, would have to offer him health coverage, and that he could be asked to contribute up to 9.5 percent of his wages to cover the costs. 

“We eat, we pay rent and no more,” Mr. Romero said in Spanish. “The salary that they give you here, to pay insurance for the family, it wouldn’t be enough.” 

I am relieved that Varney reports a "widespread agreement among agricultural employers, insurance brokers and health plans in California that low-wage farmworkers cannot be asked to pay health insurance premiums."

On this point, Varney quotes a labor contractor, Chuck Herrin, the owner of Sunrise Farm Labor in Huron, California:  

He’s making $8 to $9 an hour, and you’re asking him to pay for something that he’s not going to use? 

The most interesting thing about this quote is the "something that he's not going to use" part.  Are Mr. Herrin's assumptions based on perceptions of Latino culture?  On the age and perceived health of the workers and their families?  

Or maybe the assumption that farm workers won't use health insurance if they have it is based on immigration status.  Varney notes the complication that immigration status poses for many of the workers because they may be in the country without papers. As one farm labor contractor in Napa Valley noted, the workers are "[n]ervous they’ll be tracked and then somehow the possibility of being identified, and the fear of being deported or not being allowed to work."

Cross-posted to Agricultural Law.

Rurality and home-grown militias

I've often pondered the link between rurality and so-called home grown militias such as the one recently in the news following the arrests of nine of its members this week-end. Eight men and one woman involved in Hutaree, a "Christian" militia group that planned to kill a police officer and then use explosive devices along the funeral procession to kill more law enforcement officials. Ultimately, they hoped to spur a widespread uprising against the government. Read the New York Times initial coverage of the arrests and the plot here.

This morning's New York Times provides further details of Hutaree, which was apparently based in Lenawee County, Michigan, population 101,153. While Lenawee County is less than 100 miles from Detroit, Ann Arbor and Toledo, a photo of one of the Lenawee County homes related to this week-end's arrests looks pretty rural. It's in Clayton, population 326.

In addition to the David Stone and his wife, Tina Mae Stone, and their sons, who resided in Lenawee County (presumably at the Clayton home shown in the photo), others arrested resided in Blissfield, Michigan, population 3,223; Manchester, Michigan, population 2,160; Whiting, Indiana, population 5,137; Sandusky, Ohio, population 27,844; and Huron, Ohio, population 7,958.

Some of these places are clearly more rural (or remote or nonmetropolitan) than others. So, does rural locale have any significance with respect to these militia groups, either in suggesting the type of folks who are involved in groups like Hutaree--or in helping them go undetected? I recall, for example, that posse comitatus, another anti-federal militia group, tends to be associated with rural locales.

Here's an excerpt from today's NYTimes story by Nick Bunkley and Charlie Savage which mentions the rural locale of the apparent ringleader of Hutaree:

David B. Stone Sr. and his wife, Tina, made no secret about the fact that they were part of a militia, neighbors say. The couple frequently let visitors in military fatigues erect tents in front of their trailer home at the intersection of rural dirt roads, and the sound of gunfire was routine.

“In Michigan, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal to be in a militia,” said Tom McDormett, a neighbor. “They would practice shooting, but that’s not a big deal. People do that all the time out here.”

But last Saturday night, Mr. McDormett watched through binoculars as the police raided the Stones’ home, tearing off plywood from the base of their two connected single-wide trailers to search under the floors.

This anecdote indicates that Hutaree's rural locale provided insufficient spatial isolation or privacy to "protect" the Stones from detection--by either their neighbors or the FBI. So why do these groups tend to seek rural locales? I suppose they are less expensive places to live--and also tend to be places where people can own a piece of land large enough to store equipment and practice military drills. But the cover previously provided by rurality (and perhaps still provided, at least from neighbors, in less densely populated places in the West) may be diminished in this age of enhanced technology. Such technology no doubt facilitated law enforcement detection of Hutaree, even as it facilitated Hutaree's promotion of its goals and its members' contract with one another.

My Rural Travelogue (Part XXXIV): Taking care of Iceland's rural roads and providing electric car chargers in remote locales

One thing I noticed on my recent visit to Iceland is how much maintenance I saw on what could only be considered rural roads.  I'm not just talking their Highway 1, on which you can circumnavigate the island.  Because it is two-lane for nearly the entire 16-hour journey, some might consider it rural, but given its high use by tourists and residents, I do not.  I'm talking unpaved (also known as unsealed) roads, like the one that we took south from near Reykholt (the place called Reykholt that is north of Rekjavik, as we were traveling back to Selfoss having been to see the Langjokull glacier) to the northern end of Thingvellir National Park.  Along the way, we were on Road 52 (unpaved for that segment), which meets Road 550 (paved).

There we saw two road graders in action, in addition to several signs indicating road works were in progress.  

Road 52, north of Thingvellir National Park

Road 52, north of Thingvellir National Park

We also saw road works on a minor road near Hella, in South Iceland.  

Near Hella, Iceland

Near Hella, Iceland

In fact, we saw more work on these minor roads--including unpaved ones--than we did on major roads.  I found this interesting in that it suggests the government is making rural transportation a priority.  (A post about the political significance of taking care of rural roads in the United States is here.)  

We also found of interest the electric car charging infrastructure.  Overall, it is not very extensive.  I saw only one bank of perhaps half a dozen Tesla chargers.  That said, there tend to be one or two car chargers in even very isolated places, like Reykholt (see details of location above) and the Highland Center Hraunejay, along a stretch of "highlands" road, seemingly leading nowhere but with a small lodge and dining room, in South Iceland, mostly to facilitate ecotourism to the area.  (We were there for lunch before visiting Haifoss waterfall, and adjacent Granni, meaning neighbor and after hiking into the valley at Gjain).  While we didn't see a lot of electric cars on the road in Iceland, it's clear the charging network will be far flung and ready for them: 

Several charges at Hotel Ranga, near Hella, South Iceland

Charging Station at N1 convenience store, Reykholt, Iceland
(c) Lisa R. Pruitt 2023

Charging stations at Highland
Center Hraunejay, above and below 
(c) Lisa R Pruitt 2023

In comparison, here is what the sole gas pump in Reykholt looked like (the orange electric charger pictured above to next to the minimart, not visible behind the gas pump: 

Convenience store in Reykholt, location of the orange electric car charging station in photo above.
(c) Lisa R. Pruitt 2023

And here is the sole gas pump at the Highland Center: 

Highland Center Hraunejay, South Iceland
(c) Lisa R. Pruitt 2023

Finally, here is a photo of the public transit bus stop in Reykholt; it sits in front of the convenience store pictured above:

Public transit bus stop, Reykholt, Iceland

Speaking of rural transportation, the New York Times reported this story today out of Huron, California, in the central Valley.  Lyft and Uber don't operate there, but it offers electric car share services, as reported by the Los Angeles Times 18 months ago. 

Sexual assault of farm workers

NPR ran a two-part series on this phenomenon, yesterday and today.  The first story is "Silenced by Status:  Farm Workers Face Rape, Sexual Abuse," and it features the story of Maricruz Ladino, who was raped by a farm supervisor in 2006.  Against the odds, Ladino courageously filed a civil suit against the grower. That suit ended in a confidential settlement in 2010.  The story quotes Bill Tamayo, an attorney with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission,  the federal agency tasked with protecting workers from gender-based discrimination.  The EEOC has been using radio ads to reach out to farm workers about sexual harassment.  Tamayo emphasizes just h how much power farm supervisors wield.

"He determines who gets hired, who gets promoted, who gets fired. And if you're a sexual predator, that's the ideal position to be in because you can determine whether her family eats or not," he says. 

* * *

Over the last 15 years, Tamayo estimates his agency has won tens of millions of dollars in back wages and damages for farm worker victims across the country. The companies involved are rarely made public unless a lawsuit is filed. And the agency doesn't have the power to bring a criminal case — that's the job of local prosecutors. In fact, a review of EEOC's federal lawsuits shows none of the perpetrators accused in those cases have been tried in criminal court.

The second story in the series is "Despite Barriers, Farm Worker Breaks Silence about Rape Case," and it too features a Latina farmworker who is also a rape survivor and, like Ladino, had the courage to report her assailant.  The woman featured in this story is Guadalupe Chavez, who eventually pressed criminal charges against the farm supervisor who raped her in 2006.  Yet with no physical evidence--Khokha notes that many of the farmworkers survive rape don't get a medical exam, which is also true among other demographics--the case came down to Chavez's word versus that of her assailant.  A jury acquitted the defendant, believing his assertion that the encounter was consensual.  Khokha writes:

Even so, Chavez says she got some justice because the man she accused of raping her had to face her in court, and she says, now supervisors like him may think twice about how they treat women in the fields.

This story notes the important role played by organizations such as rural legal aid providers and social service agencies such as Westside Family Preservation Services, in Huron, California.

This two-part series was produced in collaboration with the Center for Investigative Reporting and UC Berkeley's Investigative Reporting program.