The White House confirmed that both President Donald Trump and Vice President Mike Pence have tested negative for coronavirus.

The vice president’s allies are watching two tracks for Pence as he battles the pandemic: one for Trump in 2020 and another for his own potential bid.

Millions more coronavirus tests will be needed to safely reopen the country, the chairman of the Senate HELP Committee said at a hearing Thursday.

The co-chair of the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation cited a lack of national coordination.

The speaker isn’t yet negotiating with Republicans or the White House on the next aid bill.

Lobbyists for multiple industries are gearing up to claim a slice of the next — and possibly last — trillion-dollar relief pie.

Using data from the COVID Tracking Project, we’re following how each state is responding to COVID-19.

A sharp decline in economic activity as well as tax cuts approved by lawmakers added to the decline.

“Returning these funds will allow truly small businesses ... to obtain the emergency loans they need to avoid layoffs," they write.

“I stood up for the truth and performed at the highest levels,” Sessions said.

The Office of the Special Counsel is recommending that Bright be temporarily reinstated.

The SBA's IG said the agency veered from the law Congress drafted to create the program when the agency set rules for how businesses could obtain loan forgiveness.

The Senate's newest mother wants parents of newborns to more quickly access money allocated to them by the CARES Act.

Countries scramble to fill the plates of the most vulnerable.

Airlines and EU await details of plan expected to apply to arrivals from outside Britain or Ireland.

Join POLITICO for a series of virtual briefings and audio teleconferences to learn the latest updates on coronavirus and its impacts.

Deirdre Walsh confirmed her departure as chief operating officer of the Office of the Director of National Intelligence on Friday.

FDA Commissioner Stephen Hahn is asymptomatic and tested negative for the virus on Friday, one senior administration official said.

Zerhouni is thought to be the favorite, said two people, and one person said that Azar personally prefers Zerhouni for the role.

Trump expects a sharp bounce-back in jobs. But as bankruptcies pile up, the labor market will need much of the next decade to replace the jobs gone for good.

Compared to the Great Recession, fewer male and blue-collar workers have lost jobs, while women, Latinos, African Americans and young workers have been hit hardest.

The California governor, who previously endorsed Sen. Kamala Harris, had yet to formally throw his support behind Biden.

The industry is looking for thousands of workers across the country.

In a 1996 document, Reade’s ex-husband referred to a sexual harassment problem but did not mention assault or provide details about who was involved.

Republicans are raising Brett Kavanaugh to criticize Democrats over what they say is hypocrisy over a sexual assault allegation against Joe Biden.

The party is downplaying expectations in next week's special election for a congressional seat in the L.A. suburbs.

In a recording obtained by POLITICO, Michigan Senate hopeful John James criticizes the president over his 'shithole countries' remark and other comments.

Up for reelection this fall, North Carolina Gov. Roy Cooper has to decide whether to allow Trump's coronation to proceed amid a pandemic.

The government has blamed "technical issues" in labs for its failure to reach its coronavirus test target for four consecutive days.

Lockdown changes in England from next week will be "very limited", Boris Johnson's spokesman has confirmed.

The coronavirus lockdown "must be extended" in Scotland and easing any restrictions would be "very, very risky", Nicola Sturgeon has announced.

A secret report warned three years ago that the UK's plans for dealing with a health pandemic were "not sufficient", it has been revealed.

Boris Johnson will on Sunday set out the government's plan for lifting coronavirus lockdown measures.

The public have been told not to expect widespread changes to the coronavirus lockdown in England when Boris Johnson addresses the nation this weekend.

Boris Johnson will seek to persuade Britain's top bosses on Sunday that his strategy for easing the coronavirus lockdown will pave the way for a swift economic fightback.

Boris Johnson has declared that the UK's response to the coronavirus demands the same effort and courage as the armed forces showed in the Second World War.

Britain must turn its attention to the economy now it is through the peak of the coronavirus crisis, Sajid Javid has told Sky News.

There will not be any "dramatic overnight change" of the UK's lockdown rules, a cabinet minister has warned.

by Adriana Gallardo, ProPublica, and Ariel Goodman for ProPublica

They’ve gotten to know New York City in a way many have not, through the low-wage work of cleaning its skyscrapers, serving its restaurants and crisscrossing its streets on bicycles, through long subway rides very early in the morning and very late at night. The saying goes: You’re not a true New Yorker unless you’ve lived here for a decade. They’ve done their time and felt a deep sense of belonging in this city of immigrants.

But, in the epicenter of a pandemic, the undocumented have never felt more alone.

They are losing loved ones but do not qualify for city funding to help bury them. They are getting sick but hesitating to get tested or go to the hospital, balancing their fear of the virus with their fear of exposure to immigration authorities. They are worried about supporting their families abroad as well as those who live with them, weighing whether to keep working perilous jobs or to stay home and somehow keep food on the table.

They’ve experienced separation, but not like this — out in the world, in a skeleton crew, wearing a mask to deliver food to closed doors; in cramped apartments, sectioned off, in an attempt to quarantine. They are divided across national borders as family members die, praying novenas on Google Hangouts. Their bodies cannot be buried, intact, where they were born; they move from hospital bed, to refrigerated truck, to incinerator.

ProPublica interviewed two dozen undocumented Latino immigrants and their families about their experiences with death, illness and survival. Some spoke on the condition of anonymity, afraid of being targeted. Others allowed us to use their first names or the full names of their family members who died.

One kitchen worker from the Bronx worked in the World Trade Center two decades ago. “We used to fill the back elevators of those towers,” he said. He lost friends on Sept. 11, 2001, who were not identified or acknowledged among the dead because their names did not match those on record or their families were unable to claim the bodies.

He and others spoke to ProPublica because this time they wanted their experiences to be counted as part of the story of their city, overtaken by a virus.

Barriers to a Proper Burial

Adrian Hernandez Lopez, 38, never planned to stay in New York City. His 15 year stint here was dotted with visits to his family in Mexico, for the baptism of his son, who is now almost a teen, and to check on the house he had been sending his paychecks to build.

He and brother worked at an Italian restaurant in Times Square. “We were always together,” his brother said. They crossed the border together and, years later, commuted together from Queens to midtown Manhattan.

The last time they spoke by phone, Lopez waited in agony in a hard chair at Elmhurst Hospital, breathing in oxygen from a machine. He was transferred to Woodhull Hospital in Brooklyn. One day later, the father of two wound up in a vegetative state.

He died on April 2. His mother, who lives in Allende, a small village in the state of Puebla, wants him buried there, alongside two babies she lost just after birth.

He can’t be traditionally buried, despite the strong Mexican custom. More than 400 Mexican migrants are known to have died of COVID-19 in the New York area, but for health reasons, Mexico will only accept their bodies if they are cremated.

In place of seeing the body one last time, Lopez’s brother was sent photos by the funeral home, which will hold the cremains while the family figures out how to get them to Mexico.

The Mexican Consulate pledged financial aid to the families of nationals who died of COVID-19 complications, but it has been slow to materialize. According to Lopez’s brother, they’ve been asked to follow guidelines to receive a reimbursement. The Consulate General’s office in New York said it was not authorized by the Mexican government to give interviews at the time of our request for comment.

The city of New York provides burial assistance, but it requires a Social Security number for both the deceased and the person requesting funds. City officials say they are limited by federal and state law in the help they can offer. “We are exploring every possible option to ensure that all New Yorkers, regardless of immigration status, are able to bury their loved ones in the way they feel is most fitting,” city spokesperson Avery Cohen said.

Two members of the City Council have called for an emergency fund to provide assistance to all low-income families, including the undocumented.

“One of the most devastating calls I’m regularly getting is from people who can’t afford to bury their loved ones and aren’t eligible for any assistance,” Council Member Francisco Moya said in a release. “That’s simply not acceptable.”

Lopez’s family is one of several raising money for the transport and burial of their loved one who died in the United States.

As he tries to figure out how to send Lopez home, his brother sits in the small apartment they shared in Queens, with his wife and 6-year-old daughter, listening to the sirens that have become a constant reminder of their loss. He and his wife have been out of work for a month. They don’t know how they will pay the rent.

Deterred From Seeking Care

More than a dozen undocumented people told ProPublica that when they got sick, they stayed home, deterred from seeking care by the worry that they would not get it if they tried. They faced the same obstacles as everyone else in New York, where hospitals were crowded and unsafe, and feared additional ones involving their immigration status.

Fani lives in East Harlem. Over the last 18 years, she’s worked at a laundromat and a factory, a restaurant and as a babysitter. When she and her husband got sick they called 311. She said the voice on the other end confirmed their COVID-19 symptoms and told them to stay home unless they couldn’t breathe.

“They said there were no beds, no respirators. We healed each other as best we could with soups, teas and Tylenol,” she said.

Sonia, who became ill with COVID-19 symptoms almost three weeks ago, was afraid to go to the hospital. “I knew several people who went into the hospital with symptoms and they never came back,” she said. “That was my fear and why I decided to not go in. I preferred to isolate myself at home, with a lot of home remedies and hot teas.”

Multiple people said they knew hospitals had limited resources and worried they would be placed last in line for care because they were undocumented. “They’re going to let us die,” one man told his brother. A woman named Yogi in the Bronx said, “It might not be that they don’t want to treat us, maybe there weren’t enough supplies.”

Stories rippled through the Latino community about those who had difficulty getting care and those who could not be saved. According to a recent poll of voters in New York City, more than half of Latinos there said they know someone who died, the highest percentage of any group asked.

They hear stories about people like Juan Leonardo Torres, a 65-year-old retired doorman who knew someone on every corner of Corona, Queens. Unlike the others, Torres, from the Dominican Republic, was a citizen. Even so, he grew discouraged when he tried to get care.

Within one week at the end of March, Torres had gone from feeling slightly ill to experiencing difficulty breathing and fevers that his wife Mindy tried to manage using herbs and other “remedios caseros,” or home remedies. She and her five sons who lived with them finally persuaded him to go to Long Island Jewish Medical Center Forest Hills, just a five-minute drive from the house.

When Torres arrived, he told his family there were not enough seats in the crowded emergency room. He gave his chair up to an older woman and stood for hours as staff connected and disconnected him to an oxygen tank.

Fifteen hours later, on a drizzly night, Torres appeared at the door of the family home. It was 2:30 a.m. He had made the walk alone and declared in Spanish, “For no reason do I want to go to the hospital to die like a dog.”

He spent the next three days quarantined in his son’s room, where he died.

As the family waited six hours for his body to be retrieved, his wife sat in the living room “like a statue.”

Calculating Survival

Unable to qualify for relief programs like unemployment and stimulus cash, undocumented people are faced with the difficult choice of working dangerous jobs or running out of the money they need for essentials like food and housing.

“The little we have goes to food,” said Berenice, who suffers from kidney problems and whose son struggles with asthma. She’s been home for weeks along with her husband Luis, who before the pandemic worked at a cab company.

“Yes, we need money, but there is also our health,” Berenice said. “We have family who are sick and friends who died. We are trying to survive.”

Luis has lived in New York for 18 years, working his way up from delivering pizza on a bicycle to owning a cab. He worries about exposing his wife and son. “I just want this to pass and we’ll see about starting over again,” he said.

Adan lives in the Bronx with his two teenage sons, who were born in New York City, and his wife. She cleaned homes. He worked in a restaurant in East Harlem. Neither are working and both overcame COVID-19. “The little money we had went to pay last month’s rent,” he said. “I don’t know what to do, we just want to work.”

He said his landlord always comes looking for the rent in person. He told “el señor” that he’s spending all his money on food. The man gave him flyers about unemployment, but Adan knows he won’t qualify. “Me las voy a ver duras,” he said. He’s going to see hard times. He said he has lived in the same building for 11 years and has never missed a payment. Even though he can’t be evicted now, he said, “the debt will be there.”

Adding to the pressure, for some, is that they also work to support family members in their home countries, who count on the money they send.

One delivery worker in Queens sends $400 to Mexico every two weeks to help his son, who studies biomedicine at a university in Puebla; that helps him cover what he needs for school, including rent and transportation. He sends another $300 each month to his elderly mother.

He said he remains one of only a few bicycle delivery workers at his diner who are still on the job, and he is seeing more orders than usual. He’s always worked six days a week, but this past month was so busy, he couldn’t stop to eat lunch or take breaks.

He would much rather be outside than at home, but the streets feel tense. “I feel strange not seeing anyone or saying hi anymore, but I think it’s much better this way,” he said. “I understand why people are afraid.”

Even though he doesn’t see them in the buildings he visits, customers have been conscious about leaving tips in envelopes. He feels grateful as he passes the long lines in Queens of those waiting for free food. It makes him sad to know how many need it now.

He rents a room in an apartment he shares with three other men who have all lost their jobs. One was in construction, the other two in restaurants. He takes precautions to keep them safe when he comes home, including changing his clothes before coming in. “It would be irresponsible not to,” he said.

He hopes the rules of social distancing, and his mask and gloves, will protect him. “I’m not scared,” he said. “If you are afraid all the time, you will get sick faster.”

---

by Wendi C. Thomas, MLK50: Justice Through Journalism

MEMPHIS, Tenn. — On her first day at her new warehouse job, Daria Meeks assumed the business would provide face coverings. It didn’t.

She assumed her fellow workers would be spread out to account for the new coronavirus. They weren’t.

There wasn’t even soap in the bathroom.

Instead, on March 28, her first day at PFS, which packages and ships makeup and jewelry, Meeks found herself standing alongside four other new workers at a station the size of a card table as a trainer showed them how to properly tuck tissue paper into gift boxes.

The following day, Meeks, 29, was just two hours into her shift when she heard that a worker had thrown up.

“They said her blood pressure had went up and she was just nauseated, but when we turned around, everybody who was permanent that worked for PFS had on gloves and masks,” Meeks said.

Temporary workers like her weren’t offered either.

Since then, workers have been told twice that coworkers have tested positive for the coronavirus. The first time was April 10 at a warehouse just across the state line in Southaven, Mississippi. The next was April 16 at the warehouse in southeast Memphis where Meeks worked, several temporary and permanent workers told MLK50: Justice Through Journalism and ProPublica.

In interviews, the workers complained of a crowded environment where they shared devices and weren’t provided personal protective equipment. The company has about 500 employees at its four Memphis-area locations, according to the Memphis Business Journal.

In right-to-work states such as Tennessee and Mississippi, where union membership is low, manual laborers have long said they are vulnerable, and workers’ rights advocates say the global pandemic has underscored just how few protections they have.

A spokesman for Tennessee’s Occupational Safety and Health Administration confirmed that the department received an anonymous complaint about PFS in April.

“A few of (sic) people have tested positive for Covid-19 and the company has not taken precaution to prevent employees from contracting the coronavirus,” the complainant wrote. “As of today (04/13/2020) no one have (sic) come to clean or sanitize the building.”

In response, the spokesman said TOSHA sent the company a letter “informing them of measures they may take to help prevent the spread of COVID-19.”

PFS did not answer specific questions about the number of workers infected at its facilities or about specific precautions it takes. Instead the company released a short statement that said PFS “is committed to the safety and well-being of its employees.” It also said it performs temperature checks at the door and supplies workers with masks, gloves and face shields.

But workers said none of these measures were in effect as late as the middle of April, when Shelby County, Tennessee, and DeSoto County, Mississippi, each home to two PFS facilities, were reporting more than 1,600 coronavirus infections and 30 deaths. (As of Friday, there are more than 2,750 infections and 50 deaths in the two counties.) A current employee said the company now provides gloves and masks, but they’re optional, as are the temperature checks.

When Meeks started at PFS, cases in the county were still at a trickle. But she didn’t stick around long.

On her third day at work, workers were split into two groups for lunch, but the break room was still full. “You could barely pull out a chair, that’s how crowded it was,” she said. “Everybody was shoulder to shoulder.”

Meeks said she asked the security guard at the front desk if she could eat her lunch in the empty lobby but was told no.

“I said, this is just not going to work,” said Meeks, who was paid $9 an hour. “You got different people coughing, sneezing, allergies — you never know what’s going on with a person.”

She left during her break and didn’t come back.

Economy Dominated by Low-Wage Industry, Jobs

In cities across the country, workers at Amazon facilities and other warehouses have been infected with COVID-19, as have workers at meatpacking plants nationwide.

What makes Memphis different is the outsized share of the workforce in the logistics industry, which includes warehouses and distribution centers.

The Greater Memphis Chamber of Commerce boasts on its website that the logistics industry employs 1 in 6 workers in the Memphis metro area, a higher share than anywhere else in the country.

The high concentration of these low-wage jobs is a testament to the city’s decades-old campaign to brand itself as “America’s Distribution Center.” Memphis is home to FedEx’s headquarters and its world distribution hub, which is undergoing a $1.5 billion expansion, as well as to Nike’s largest global distribution center, a sprawling 2.8 million-square-foot facility.

According to 2019 data from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, more than 58,000 workers in the Memphis metro area fill and stock orders, package materials and move materials by hand.

In Memphis, workers at distribution centers for FedEx, Nike and Kroger have tested positive for the coronavirus. The Shelby County Health Department received 64 complaints about businesses between April 1 and April 29, but could not say how many were about warehouses.

Interim guidance from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention calls for employers to notify workers of positive cases. But it is voluntary. The federal OSHA has no such requirement, and neither does Tennessee’s OSHA.

Although Congress passed the Families First Coronavirus Response Act, which provides two weeks paid sick leave for coronavirus-affected or infected workers, it doesn’t apply to many warehouse and temporary employees, said Laura Padin, senior staff attorney at the Washington-based National Employment Law Project, which advocates for better public policy for workers, particularly low-wage workers.

“The big issue is that it exempts so many employers, especially employers with over 500 employees,” Padin said. “And the vast majority of temp workers and many warehouse workers work for employers with more than 500 employees.”

The coronavirus has disproportionately affected people of color, the very group that makes up the bulk of the warehouse and temporary workforce.

“Black workers make up 12% of the workforce but 26% of temp workers, and Latino workers make up 16% of the workforce but 25% of temp workers,” said Padin, citing Bureau of Labor Statistics data released in 2018.

Add to that the yawning racial wealth gap and low-wage workers like Meeks are in an untenable situation, Padin said.

“They either stay home and they risk their financial security,” Padin said, “or they go to work and risk their lives.”

“You Can Always Go Back”

With 1.45 million square feet of warehouse space among its four area locations, PFS is the ninth-largest third-party distribution operation in the metro area, according to the Memphis Business Journal’s 2020 Book of Lists. PFS doesn’t sell products under its own name but rather fulfills orders for better-known companies.

Pandora, which is perhaps best known for its charm bracelets, is one of PFS’s clients. “Each item shipped for PANDORA is wrapped in customized, branded, and sometimes seasonal packing materials, making every purchase a gift,” PFS’s website says.

Meeks’ favorite part of her job was taking each customer’s personal message, tucking it into a tiny envelope and then into the gift package.

“When we were sending out these Pandora bracelets and these Chanel gifts, I sat there and read all my cards,” said Meeks, who like all of the workers interviewed for this story, is black. “They were so cute.”

One Pandora customer sent a note to “beloved mother,” Meeks said, and another seemed to be from someone in a long-distance relationship.

“He was like: Even though I’m miles and miles away, I always think about you,” Meeks said. He wrote that he hoped the jewelry would “glitter in your eyes, or something like that.”

The day Meeks quit PFS, she said she called Prestigious Placement, the temporary agency that sent her there, asking for another job.

The temporary agency representative “was like, ‘Well, you can always go back to PFS until we get something else,’ and I was like, ‘No.’”

“She said, ‘Well, we haven’t had anyone to get sick,’” Meeks recalled.

Meeks said she tried to explain that regardless of whether some workers had tested positive, the company wasn’t taking enough steps, in her opinion, to keep current workers safe.

The representative said she’d ask the agency’s on-site manager about Meeks’ concerns, but Meeks said that there was no on-site manager present on her second or third day.

Prestigious Placement did not respond to multiple requests for comment for this story.

A local labor leader said Meeks’ experience illustrates the tough situation for temporary workers at warehouses.

“They tend not to have benefits, sick time and insurance and all the things that allow us to keep our whole community safe during a pandemic,” said Jeffrey Lichtenstein, executive secretary of the Memphis Labor Council, a federation of around 40 union locals.

Unlike companies such as Nike and FedEx, which have reputations to protect, the general public doesn’t know who PFS is or what it does, he said. “They have no brand vulnerability,” he said.

With little leverage to exert on businesses, these workers are up against a regional business model that mires them in dead-end, low-wage jobs, Lichtenstein said.

The city’s power brokers, he said, “have a couple of main tenets of their economic philosophy. One, logistics is really, really important, and two, cheap labor is very, very important.”

“Nothing Essential About It”

Memphis Mayor Jim Strickland issued a “Safer At Home” executive order on March 23, mirroring those put in place elsewhere. But the order specifically exempted warehouses and distribution centers from COVID-19 restrictions.

PFS gave workers a letter that cited Strickland’s order and the U.S. Department of Homeland Security’s guidance that “transportation and logistics are deemed a critical infrastructure that must be maintained during the COVID-19 crisis,” according to a copy reviewed by MLK50.

If they were stopped by authorities on the way to work, employees were told, this letter would ease their passage.

Some workers questioned whether the distribution center should be open at all.

“I don’t see nothing essential about it,” said one employee who asked to remain anonymous for fear she’d be fired for talking to a journalist. “It don’t got nothing to do with nurses or health.”

When a worker tested positive at a PFS distribution center in southeast Memphis, the employee, who worked at a Southaven, Mississippi, location about eight miles away, worried that the virus could spread if workers were shuffled between sites.

A manager assured her that workers would stay put, the employee said. But on April 16, a supervisor told workers that two Memphis workers, who had been brought in to the employee’s Southaven facility, had tested positive for the coronavirus.

“I said, ‘Well, since y’all got everybody in here messed up, can’t you call and get everyone in there a COVID-19 test?’” she remembered. “They said if you don’t feel safe, you can go home.”

She can’t risk taking the virus home to a relative, who has chronic illnesses, and she can’t afford not to work. “I’m concerned for my health,” she said. “I don’t want to die.”

Padin, who works with workers’ rights centers across the country, said she’s not aware of much being done by advocates to narrow the list of businesses considered essential. “I do think some of these essential worker orders are quite broad,” she said. “Our sense is that it’s a little arbitrary and just seems to be a result of lobbying.”

She pointed to the success of meat processing plants, which were declared “critical infrastructure” by President Donald Trump despite coronavirus outbreaks that sickened thousands and killed dozens.

Days before Trump’s declaration, meatpacking giant Tyson ran a full-page ad in The New York Times saying “The food supply chain is breaking.”

In Memphis, an amended executive order, signed by the mayor April 21, clarified which distribution centers and warehouses could remain in operation, including ones that handle medical supplies, food and hygiene products.

The order would seem to exclude facilities such as PFS. “Products and services for and in industries that are not otherwise identified in this provision constitute non-essential goods and services,” reads the order, which is set to expire at midnight Tuesday. On Monday, Memphis will move into the first phase of its “Back to Business” plan, which means nonessential businesses can operate with face masks, social distancing in the workplace, and symptom checks.

“No Social Distancing”

Because the turnover in warehouses like PFS is high, the need for a steady flow of labor is paramount. And temp agencies are a major source of employees.

One Memphis mother saw a job posting on Facebook for PFS. A family member’s workplace had closed because of the coronavirus, so the woman rushed to find work to make up for the lost household income. She was hired in late March by Paramount Staffing and sent to a warehouse in Southaven, Mississippi. She wanted to remain anonymous for fear of job retaliation.

From the moment workers entered the building, she said, they were close together. A single-file line funneled workers past several time clocks, one for PFS’s permanent workers and one for each staffing agency with temporary workers there.

“Some people have masks on, some don’t,” said the worker, who earned $9 an hour. Workers weren’t provided any personal protective equipment.

She opted to be a packer, a mostly stationary job, but she had to use a shared tape dispenser to seal boxes and her co-workers were within arm’s reach.

Her other job option was as a picker, but they’re in motion most of the shift, selecting products for individual orders from totes and using a shared scan gun. Pickers send the completed orders to packers.

“It’s basically no social distancing at that warehouse,” she said. “They’re gonna have to work on that.”

About two hours before her shift ended April 10, a manager huddled workers in her area together for an announcement.

“He said, ‘Well, we’re just letting y’all know that we have an employee here who tested positive and we are asking everyone here to leave the building immediately and we will clock y’all out,’” the worker recalled.

The manager instructed them not to touch anything as they left, “just go straight out the door and we will let y’all know when to return,” she recalled.

The warehouse was closed for the next day and reopened the following day.

“It makes me nervous because my health is important to me, but at the same time, it’s like that’s the only thing I can do right now,” she said.

She’s grateful for the job but insists she won’t be there long. “I’m going to try to get in a couple more checks and then I’m going to quit.”

She left about a week ago, but hasn’t found another job yet.

Paramount Staffing, which sent the worker to PFS, relies on the client to provide personal protective equipment to workers, said company president Matthew Schubert.

“My understanding is that they’ve been taking temperatures as employees walk in,” Schubert said, plus performing more frequent cleanings and coaching the workers on social distancing, but he acknowledged he didn’t know when any of those measures began.

“What we want to make sure is that they’re doing everything in their power to follow the CDC guidelines,” said Schubert, who estimates Paramount has 75 to 80 workers at PFS’s area warehouses.

“We’re limited as to what we can and cannot do, because it’s not our facility.”

Both Lichtenstein and Padin say it’s the worksite employer’s responsibility to provide personal protective equipment.

A Perfect Combination: Higher Pay and Less Risk

Just days after Meeks quit PFS, she turned to a different agency and was sent to a Memphis warehouse that labels and ships cleaning products.

Her first day was April 17, and she was impressed by the precautions the employer takes.

Before workers enter the building, Meeks said, their temperatures are taken in a white tent outside. If they don’t have a fever, they get a wristband that is a different color each day.

The company provides masks, gloves and goggles, she said, and there are even kickstands on the bathroom doors, so they can be opened by foot.

Working the third shift means fewer people, Meeks said. “We’re not working close to each other.”

Meeks said she wouldn’t put a price on her health, but at her new job, the risks are lower and the pay higher — up from $9 to $11.50 an hour.

Wendi C. Thomas is the editor of MLK50: Justice Through Journalism. Email her at wendicthomas@mlk50.com and follow her on Twitter at @wendi_c_thomas.

Do you work at a warehouse or distribution center in the Memphis area? MLK50 and ProPublica want to hear from you.

• Call or text us: (901) 633-3638
• Email us: memphis@propublica.org

---

by Lucas Waldron and Nadia Sussman

Many people across the country experienced COVID-19 symptoms but could not get a test to confirm if they actually had the virus. Now some are looking to a different kind of coronavirus test for answers.

Antibody tests are meant to recognize a past infection. Many of these have hit the market in recent weeks and are being offered at local clinics. Officials have touted the tests as crucial for reopening the economy and developing public health strategies to contain the virus.

But there are still questions about how accurate they are. And even with a very good test, it's possible to test positive for antibodies even when you don't actually have them. Watch our new video to learn why.

by Derek Willis

In an April report that warns of the risks of fraud in mail-in voting, a conservative legal group significantly inflated a key statistic, a ProPublica analysis found. The Public Interest Legal Foundation reported that more than 1 million ballots sent out to voters in 2018 were returned as undeliverable. Taken at face value, that would represent a 91% increase over the number of undeliverable mail ballots in 2016, a sign that a vote-by-mail system would be a “catastrophe” for elections, the group argued.

However, after ProPublica provided evidence to PILF that it had in fact doubled the official government numbers, the organization corrected its figure. The number of undeliverable mail ballots dropped slightly from 2016 to 2018.

The PILF report said that one in five mail ballots issued between 2012 and 2018, a total of 28.3 million, were not returned by voters and were “missing,” which, according to the organization, creates an opportunity for fraud. In a May 1 tweet that included a link to coverage of the report, President Donald Trump wrote: “Don’t allow RIGGED ELECTIONS.”

PILF regularly sues state and local election officials to force them to purge some voters from registration rolls, including those it claims have duplicate registrations from another state or who are dead. It is headed by J. Christian Adams, a former Justice Department attorney who was a member of the Trump administration’s disbanded commission on election integrity.

The report describes as “missing” all mail ballots that were delivered to a valid address but not returned to be counted. In a statement accompanying the report, Adams said that unaccounted-for ballots “represent 28 million opportunities for someone to cheat.” In particular, the organization argues that the number of unreturned ballots would grow if more states adopt voting by mail.

Experts who study voting and use the same data PILF used in the report, which is from the Election Administration and Voting Survey produced by the federal Election Assistance Commission, say that it’s wrong to describe unreturned ballots as missing.

“Election officials ‘know’ what happened to those ballots,” said Paul Gronke, a professor at Reed College, who is the director of the Early Voting Information Center, a research group based there. “They were received by eligible citizens and not filled out. Where are they now? Most likely, in landfills,” Gronke said by email.

A recent RealClear Politics article based on the PILF report suggested that an increase in voting by mail this year could make the kind of fraud uncovered in North Carolina’s 9th Congressional District in 2018 more likely. In that case, a political consultant to a Republican candidate was indicted on charges of absentee ballot fraud for overseeing a paid ballot collection operation. “The potential to affect elections by chasing down unused mail-in ballots and make sure they get counted — using methods that may or may not be legal — is great,” the article argues.

PILF’s report was mentioned in other news outlets including the Grand Junction Sentinel in Colorado, “PBS NewsHour” and the New York Post. The Washington Times repeated the inaccurate claim of 1 million undeliverable mail ballots.

In a statement, the National Vote at Home Institute, an advocacy group, challenged the characterization of the 28.3 million ballots as missing. Of those ballots, 12 million were mailed by election officials in Colorado, Oregon and Washington, which by law send a mail-in ballot to every registered voter, roughly 30% of which are not returned for any given election. “Conflating voters choosing not to cast their ballots with ‘missing’ ballots is a fundamental flaw,” the statement reads.

In an interview, Logan Churchwell, the communications director for PILF, acknowledged the error in the number of undelivered ballots, but defended the report’s conclusions, saying that it showed potential vulnerabilities in the voting system. “Election officials send these ballots out in the mail, and for them to say ‘I have no idea what happened after that’ speaks more to the investments they haven’t made to track them,” he said in a telephone interview.

But 36 states have adopted processes where voters and local officials can track the status of mail ballots through delivery, much like they can track packages delivered to a home. Churchwell said there are other explanations why mail ballots are not returned and that state and local election officials could report more information about the status of mail ballots. “If you know a ballot got to a house, you can credibly say that ballot’s status is not unknown,” he said.

The EAVS data has been published after every general election since 2004, although not every local jurisdiction provides complete responses to its questions.

In the data, election officials are asked to provide the number of mail ballots sent to voters, the number returned to be counted and the number of ballots returned as undeliverable by the U.S. Postal Service, which provides specific ballot-tracking services. The survey also asks for the number of ballots that are turned in or invalidated by voters who chose to cast their ballots in person. It asks officials to report the number of ballots that do not fit into any of those categories, or are “otherwise unable to be tracked by your office.”

Gronke described the last category as “a placeholder for elections officials to put numbers so that the whole column adds up,” and said that there was no evidence to support calling those ballots a pathway to large-scale voter fraud.

Numerous academic studies have shown that cases of voter fraud are extremely rare, although they do occur, and that fraud in mail voting seems to occur more often than with in-person voting.

by Nina Martin and Bernice Yeung

When Alfredo Pabatao told his family that he had helped move a suspected coronavirus patient through the hospital where he’d worked as an orderly for nearly 20 years, he didn’t make a big deal out of it. “My parents are the type of parents who don’t like to make us worry,” his youngest daughter, Sheryl, recalled. But Sheryl was concerned that her father’s vulnerabilities weren’t being given more consideration as he toiled on the pandemic’s front lines in hard-hit northern New Jersey. “Why would they let a 68-year-old man with an underlying heart condition … transport a suspected COVID patient when there’s younger transporters in the hospital who could do it?”

Sheryl’s mother, Susana, was an assistant nurse in a long-term care facility where she often pulled double shifts, saving money for her annual trips back to the Philippines. At 64, she wasn’t much younger than the elderly patients she helped bathe and feed, and she had diabetes, which increased her risk of severe complications if she got sick. The nursing home wasn’t providing adequate personal protection equipment, Susana reported, so Sheryl brought home a stash of surgical masks for her mother to wear on the job. That didn’t go over well with Susana’s managers, Sheryl said: “They gave her a warning, saying she shouldn’t be wearing that. … She was really mad.”

Alfredo fell ill first, his symptoms flaring on March 17. Susana soon developed a fever. The couple had grown up on the same street in Manila and shared a romance that reminded their daughter of a telenovela; after 44 years of marriage and five children, they were all but inseparable. “Where mom goes, my dad goes. Where my dad goes, my mom goes. That’s the way they are,” Sheryl said. The day Alfredo was admitted to the ICU, his heart failing, Susana checked into the same hospital. They died four days apart.

Filipino American medical workers have suffered some of the most staggering losses in the coronavirus pandemic. In the New York-New Jersey region alone, ProPublica learned of at least 30 deaths of Filipino health care workers since the end of March and many more deaths in those peoples’ extended families. The virus has struck hardest where a huge concentration of the community lives and works. They are at “the epicenter of the epicenter,” said Bernadette Ellorin, a community organizer.

Some of the largest Filipino enclaves on the East Coast are in the New York City borough of Queens and northern New Jersey — the very places now being ravaged by COVID-19.

Filipinos are on the front lines there and across the country, four times more likely to be nurses than any other ethnic group in the U.S., experts say. In the New York-New Jersey region, nearly a quarter of adults with Filipino ancestry work in hospitals or other medical fields, a ProPublica analysis of 2017 U.S. census data found. The statistic bears repeating: Of every man and woman in the Filipino community there, one in four works in the health care industry.

“So many people can rattle off five, 10 relations that are working in the medical field,” said filmmaker Marissa Aroy, whose most recent documentary is about Filipino nurses. Her parents were registered nurses in California, and various relatives are in health care professions, including a cousin who works in a rehab center in the Bronx and recently recovered from COVID-19. “Think about all of those family members who are going to be affected,” Aroy said. “We’re talking about huge family structures here.”

The scale of the trauma and the way it is unfolding are “similar to times of war,” said Kevin Nadal, a professor of psychology at John Jay College of Criminal Justice and The Graduate Center of the City University of New York who has written extensively about Filipino American psychology and culture.

The majority of the reported deaths have involved nurses, including Susan Sisgundo and Ernesto “Audie” DeLeon, who worked at Bellevue Hospital in New York City, and Marlino Cagas, who spent 40 years as a pharmacy tech at Harlem Hospital before embarking on a nursing career at the age of 60. A handful, including Jessie Ariel Ferreras, a family practitioner in Bergen County, were doctors. Others worked in support roles, like Louis Torres, 47, the director of food services at a nursing home in Woodside, Queens, and his 73-year-old mother, Lolita, or Lely, a clerk at a nearby hospital. They lived together and fell sick around the same time, both developing pneumonia. Lolita died on April 7, her son, the following day.

Don Ryan Batayola, a 40-year-old occupational therapist, was from a big, tight-knit family and lived in Springfield Township, New Jersey. He is believed to have caught the virus from a patient and was rushed to the hospital on March 31. By April 4, he had improved enough to FaceTime with his wife, also an occupational therapist who was sick and self-isolating at home, their children sheltering with relatives. Then, an hour later, he went into cardiac arrest.

One of the most wrenching aspects of the epidemic is the sense of disconnection and helplessness in a community that stakes its economic well-being on providing care and comfort and cherishes its closeness. So many members of Batayola’s extended family are health care workers, “we could almost open our own hospital,” said his oldest sister Aimee Canton, an oncology nurse in Northern California. But to protect each other, they’ve had to remain apart, with no idea when they’ll be able to come together again. “It’s so sad when you’re a nurse,” Canton said, “and you can’t even help your own family.”

---

Almost all the deaths of Filipino American health care workers that ProPublica found involve people, like the Batayolas, who immigrated during the 1970s to 2000s, when critical shortages created opportunities for medical personnel with the right training.

But the story of Filipino nurses in the U.S. goes back much further, to the end of the Spanish-American War in 1898, when the Philippines became a U.S. territory, said Catherine Ceniza Choy, a professor of ethnic studies at the University of California, Berkeley, and author of “Empire of Care: Nursing and Migration in Filipino American History.” One legacy of the colonial era is a network of hundreds of Americanized nursing schools that eventually produced tens of thousands of caregivers a year, making the country “the leading exporter of nurses in the world,” Choy said.

Nursing offered an escape route from economic and political instability and a path to the middle class for those who had few other options. It also appealed to deeply held cultural values: “kapwa,” Tagalog for “a feeling of interconnectedness to all people, putting others before yourself and taking care of the community,” Nadal said, and “utang ng loob,” the idea that people owe a debt to each other and to those who came before.

Most nurses trained in the Philippines who sought work abroad hoped to end up in the U.S. (They also migrated in large numbers to the Middle East and the U.K.) American immigration policies ebbed and flowed depending on labor shortages and political expediency. In the first third of the 20th century, the numbers of Filipino nurses were small; most workers from the islands were sent to the fields of California and the plantations of Hawaii. Then, in the wake of the Great Depression, Filipino immigrants were capped at just 50 per year, rising to 100 after World War II.

After the war, U.S. nursing shortages grew acute. Even as the passage of Medicare and Medicaid made health care more accessible to the elderly and poor, the rise of the feminist movement, which opened up professional opportunities for American women, made caregiver work less appealing, Choy said. The Immigration Act of 1965 swept aside the long-standing system of country-based quotas, instead giving preference to immigrants with professional degrees. Tens of thousands of Filipino nurses answered the call.

Caregivers on the Front Lines

The scale of losses among Filipino Americans from COVID-19 is only beginning to sink in. Clockwise from top left: Don Ryan Batayola, an occupational therapist; Alfredo Pabatao, a hospital orderly; Susan Sisgundo, a neonatal ICU nurse; Ernesto “Audie” DeLeon, a hospital nurse; Susana Pabatao, a long-term care nurse; Daisy Doronila, a correctional facility nurse.

Many ended up at inner-city and rural hospitals that had the greatest difficulty recruiting staff, often working the least desirable jobs and shifts, including, in the 1980s and ’90s, on the front lines of the AIDS epidemic. It was part of a historical pattern, said Nadal, of “immigrants doing a lot of the dirty work that people don’t want to do... being painted as heroes, when in reality they are only put in these positions because their lives are viewed as disposable.”

Yet it was a template for economic security that many of their American-born children and grandchildren embraced. “It’s like any kind of family dynamic,” Aroy said. “You see your parents do the job. And so then you know that that’s accessible to you. As a second- generation kid, I always knew that was a path for me if I wanted it.”

Today, people of Filipino ancestry comprise about 1% of the U.S. population but more than 7% of the hospital and health care workforce in the United States — nearly 500,000 workers, according to census data. They find themselves fighting not just a potentially lethal illness, but the scapegoating stoked by President Donald Trump and supporters who have taken to calling COVID-19 the “Chinese virus.” Since late March, civil rights organizations have received nearly 1,500 reports of anti-Asian hate incidents, mostly from California and New York, including against Filipino Americans.

“This anti-Asian racism that’s happening right now,” Aroy said, “what it makes me want to do is scream out: ‘How dare you treat us like the carriers? We are your caregivers.’”

---

A host of factors, from medical to cultural, have put large numbers of Filipinos in harm’s way and made them vulnerable to the types of severe complications that often turn deadly. They begin with the specific type of health care work they do.

A survey by the Philippine Nurses Association of America published in 2018 found that a large proportion of respondents were concentrated in bedside and critical care — “the opposite of social distancing,” said executive director Leo-Felix Jurado, who teaches nursing at William Paterson University in Wayne, New Jersey. Many of the organization’s members have contracted the virus, he said, including the current president, New Jersey-based registered nurse Madelyn Yu; she is recovering, but her husband died.

For Daisy Doronila, employed at the Hudson County Correctional Facility in northern New Jersey for more than two decades, the profession was almost a religious calling. “My mom had a very, very humble beginning,” said her only child, Denise Rendor. “She really wanted to take care of people that no one wanted to take care of.”

Doronila saw her responsibilities to her colleagues no less seriously. The single mother and devout Catholic “was always the most reliable person at the job,” Rendor said. “If there was a snowstorm, people called out, nope, not her: ‘I’ll be there.’” As a kid, Rendor sometimes resented the missed volleyball games and dance recitals. Looking back now, “I don’t think I would have the life that I had had my mom not worked so hard.”

It’s not clear how Doronila contracted the virus, though the Hudson County jail has had at least four deaths. Once she fell ill in mid-March, she was turned away for testing by clinics and doctors on three occasions because her symptoms didn’t meet the criteria at the time, Rendor said. On March 21, Doronila started feeling breathless and drove herself to urgent care, which sent her by ambulance to the hospital. She died on April 5 at the age of 60.

If she hadn’t gotten sick, Rendor is sure she would have been volunteering for extra shifts. “That’s just who my mother was. She was just always willing to help.”

That selflessness is common among Filipino immigrants, said Zenei Cortez, a registered nurse in the San Francisco Bay Area who is the president of the California Nurses Association/National Nurses United. “They have such a profound willingness to work that they would forget their own well-being,” she said. “They would think of their loved ones in the Philippines — if they don’t work, then they can’t send money back home.”

In 2019, Filipinos abroad sent $35 billion back to the Philippines, making it the fourth-largest recipient of overseas remittances in the world; many are also helping to support networks of relatives in the U.S. “That’s the economic factor that is on the minds of a lot of Filipino nurses,” Cortez said. “If we miss work, there will be no income.”

It’s a worry that keeps many Filipinos doing sometimes-grueling labor well into their 70s. Doronila’s colleague at the Hudson County jail, nurse Edwin Montanano, was 73 when he died in early April. Jesus Villaluz, a much-beloved patient transporter at Holy Name Medical Center in Teaneck, one of the worst-hit hospitals in northern New Jersey, was 75. “They cannot in their conscience walk away from patients who need them,” said Maria Castaneda, a registered nurse and the secretary-treasurer of 1199SEIU United Healthcare Workers East, who immigrated from the Philippines in 1984. “At the same time, they are there in solidarity with other co-workers. If they are not there, it adds to the burden of those who are working.”

COVID-19 risks are magnified in people who are older or suffer underlying chronic conditions. Filipinos have very high rates of Type II diabetes and cardiovascular disease, both of which render the virus more dangerous. “They’re doing amazing things and helping others to survive,” Nadal said. “But they’re putting themselves at risk because they have immuno-compromised traits that make them susceptible to severe sickness and death.”

And in many situations, they’ve been forced to do that work without proper PPE and other safeguards, said Ellorin, the Queens-based community organizer and executive director of the advocacy group Mission to End Modern-Day Slavery. They are “being infected and not being protected, and then their families, or whoever they live with, are getting infected.”

Sheryl Pabatao thinks of the many people she knows who are working in hospitals and other medical settings and feel unable to speak out. “Even though they don’t want to do things, they still do it because they don’t want to lose their jobs.”

---

When they first applied to immigrate to the U.S. in the 1980s, Alfredo Pabatao was in the car business; Susana was a former nursing student turned housewife and mother of two. By the time their petition was approved about 14 years later, their two eldest children were too old to qualify to come to the U.S. with their parents, so the Pabataos were forced to leave them behind, bringing only their youngest two daughters and son. “To this day, that was one of the hardest things — being separated from everyone,” Sheryl said.

They arrived in the U.S. a few weeks after 9/11. One of Alfredo’s sisters, a registered nurse, helped him get a job transporting patients at her hospital, now known as Hackensack Meridian Health Palisades Medical Center, in North Bergen, New Jersey. “My father grew up with wealth, and when he came here, he had to be modest and humble,” Sheryl said. Susana earned her assistant nursing certification while working as a grocery store cashier, then went to work at what is now called Bergen New Bridge Medical Center in Paramus, the largest hospital and licensed nursing home in the state. Taking care of elderly people helped ease the sadness and guilt at what she had left behind. “She was not able to take care of her own mother,” Sheryl said. “So when she does her job here, she cares for them like her own.”

America proved to be both generous and hard. The couple prospered enough to buy a house, then lost it in the Great Recession. They managed to rebuild their lives and gained their U.S. citizenship, the kids choosing careers in the pharmaceutical side of health care. After 18 years in the same job, Alfredo was waiting for Susana to retire so he could, too.

Then came the pandemic.

Sheryl had been following the news reports from China since early February and was concerned enough about her family to procure a small supply of masks before vendors ran out; “I’d put my parents in a bubble if I can,” she said. Her father was more easygoing: “He has survived so many things in his life. His attitude is: ‘If I get it, I get it. I’ll be OK with it.’”

Sheryl doesn’t know how the responsibility fell to him to transport a patient suspected of having COVID-19 during the second week in March. “But knowing my dad, he agrees to anything. He has that work ethic: ‘This is my job. If I can do it, l do it.’ Knowing him, if one of the other [orderlies] didn’t want to transfer the patient, they asked him and he said yes.”

When Susana found out her husband had been exposed to the virus that way, she was not happy, Sheryl said. Susana was having her own issues at the nursing home. In mid-March, she received an email from her bosses that warned in boldface, “Facemasks are to be used only by staff who have an authorized or clinical reason to use them. Do not wear non-hospital issued facemasks.” It was a policy Susana complained was being made by people who weren’t doing bedside care and didn’t understand the real risks. She was also told the masks would scare patients. She pretended to obey the directive when her managers were around, Sheryl said, “but my mom was stubborn, so when they left, she put [her mask] back on.”

Bergen New Bridge called Susana a “valued” employee who is “greatly missed.” The hospital denied that it has experienced any PPE shortages, but it noted that “guidance from federal and state health officials regarding the use of PPE has been evolving.” Early on, “it was recommended that masks were to be worn only by those individuals who were sick or those who were caring for COVID-19 patients.” Once the virus began spreading within the community, “we quickly moved to universal masking of all employees,” the hospital said. “Like all healthcare facilities, our Medical Center has stressed the importance of using hospital-issued PPE, as guided by the CDC.”

As of April 29, New Bridge’s long-term care facility had recorded 120 confirmed COVID-19 cases and 26 deaths. Hackensack Meridian Health didn’t respond to ProPublica’s requests for comment about Alfredo’s case.

It wasn’t just Alfredo and Susana who fell ill. Sheryl and her brother, both living at home, caught the virus, too. The weekend before Alfredo’s symptoms emerged, he and the rest of the family attended a gathering in honor of a relative who had died in January from cancer. Alfredo spent much of the party talking to his younger brother; later, the brother ended up with COVID-19 and on a ventilator for nearly three weeks. An aunt of Sheryl’s who is a housekeeper in the same hospital system as Alfredo wasn’t at the gathering but fell ill anyway and was out sick for two weeks. Her symptoms weren’t as severe as those of some of the others; she’s already back at work.

The spread of the virus has been unrelenting for Sheryl. When she returned to her own job as a pharmacy tech this past week, a month after her parents died, she learned that someone who worked at her company — who was also Filipino — had died during her absence. “You have no idea about the extent of this,” she said, “until it hits you.”

Sophie Chou contributed reporting.

Correction, May 5, 2020: This story originally misspelled the first name of the president of the California Nurses Association/National Nurses United. She is Zenei Cortez, not Zeine.

---

by Alice Wilder, WNYC

Presidential lawyer and former New York City Mayor Rudy Giuliani has largely fallen out of the public eye since his starring role in President Donald Trump’s impeachment. But Giuliani hasn’t gone silent.

Instead, he’s in his home, doing a call-in radio show and a podcast — “Common Sense” — during which he has repeatedly gone on bigoted rants about China and its government.

“They have no morals,” he said on his April 28 radio show. “They’re amoral in the sense that human life means something in Western civilization, it means a lot. Human life doesn’t mean the same thing to them.”

Giuliani has also speculated that the spread of the coronavirus may be a plot by the Chinese government.

For example, Giuliani has raised the possibility that China purposely released the virus from a biological lab in Wuhan. “We have to say accidentally,” Giuliani said in a recent radio broadcast. “But I don’t think as responsible investigators we can rule out that it wasn’t done deliberately.”

Experts say there’s no public evidence the virus came from the lab. Amid a reported White House push, U.S. intelligence agencies have said they are investigating the origins of the virus.

Giuliani is also fixated on the idea that the Chinese government sent sick people overseas. In an April 27 episode of his podcast, he said that China allowed “over a million people from Wuhan travel to us, to the United States, to England to France to Italy to Germany.” He added, “I hope the people there have the same reaction we have to the value of human life and the loss of human life.”

“When they found out about this terrible virus that escaped, assuming they didn’t do it on purpose,” Giuliani said a day later on his radio show, “they were going to make sure the West suffered as much if not more than they did and jumped on top of an opportunity, it’s not a big assumption to make. And there isn’t a contrary explanation.”

The New York Times found that thousands, not millions, of people flew internationally out of Wuhan.

Asked about his comments, Giuliani did not respond.

The comments by Giuliani have come as discrimination against Asian Americans has spiked. And they reinforce the White House’s emerging push to blame China for the pandemic.

Giuliani has said he’s spoken to the president a number of times about the coronavirus. Two days after Giuliani said he was sure the virus came from the Wuhan lab, Trump said he has evidence of the same. (The president declined to give the evidence, saying it’s secret.)

Giuliani appears to have found a receptive wider audience too. An advertising executive at 77 WABC, which airs Giuliani’s radio show, said “feedback has been amazing” and online listening has “skyrocketed.”

The station’s parent company, Red Apple Media, did not respond to a request for comment.

In an April 23 radio show, Giuliani interviewed Gordon Chang, a conservative pundit who frequently predicts the collapse of the Chinese government. Chang said if China released the virus accidentally — for which, again, there’s no evidence — it then decided to create a global pandemic. “I think what Xi Jinping did was he decided he was going to spread the virus so that he would level the playing field so that China would not be in such a hole,” Chang said, referring to China’s president.

“Wow,” Giuliani responded. “So he saw an opportunity, if that theory is correct, and it wasn’t a bioweapon to start with, he saw an opportunity that was sort of accidentally presented to him, and then he took advantage of it. It was opportunistic.”

Chang acknowledged, “We can’t know what was in Xi Jinping’s mind for sure.” But then he went on, “It looks more like they were deliberate and malicious and that means Mr. Mayor ... this is a crime against all of humanity.”

Giuliani ended the interview by inviting Chang to be a guest on his other show, the podcast.

Giuliani has also said he’d use his access to help guests on his show move ahead with exploratory treatments. Talking with one pharmaceutical executive on his show in late March, Giuliani told his guest, “I’ll use whatever my yelling and screaming can do to do it faster, to help you.”

As the Times reported, the executive’s company received initial trial approval from the Food and Drug Administration soon after. (The FDA has said the application was subject to “internal scientific review.” And Giuliani has said he has no business connection to the company.)

“I don’t lobby the government,” Giuliani emailed in response to a request for comment. “I do hope, however, that they and others are successful.”

Giuliani appears to have strong feelings about the government’s process for approving drugs.

In an April 23 broadcast, Mark, a pharmacist from New Jersey, called in to report on his “informal study” of the patients who have used a drug cocktail that includes hydroxychloroquine — the anti-malaria drug that Trump long has touted.

Giuliani was excited when Mark reported that none of his patients had been hospitalized: “Why doesn’t this count with all these geniuses in Washington? The double blind study and the triple blind study and this study and that study, we don’t have time for that, we’ve got to go to people like Mark in New Jersey!”

In fact, the FDA has warned against widespread use of the drug, noting that it can cause heart problems.

The discussions with his listeners, though, often come back to China.

One caller to Giuliani’s radio show, identifying himself as “George from Bay Ridge,” went on a rant against Chinese people, likening them to serial killers with “no conscience” who are attempting to take over businesses all over the world.

Giuliani responded, “George, I’ve been getting complaints about this for a long time.” He added: “It almost reminds me of the Mafia. You know, they say, if you do business with America it’s one thing. If you do business with China you don’t realize, all of a sudden you start owing them too much and they believe they own you.”

---

by Yeganeh Torbati

Democratic members of Congress are urging President Donald Trump to authorize FEMA to reimburse funeral expenses for victims of the coronavirus pandemic, citing ProPublica’s reporting about the administration’s policies.

“Just as with all previous disasters, we should not expect the families of those that died — or the hardest hit states — to pay for burials,” said the statement issued Friday from Rep. Bennie Thompson, chairman of the House Homeland Security Committee, and Rep. Peter DeFazio, chairman of the House Transportation and Infrastructure Committee. “President Trump needs to step up and approve this assistance so FEMA can pay for the funerals of our fellow Americans so they can be buried in dignity. It is the least he can do.”

ProPublica reported last week that Trump has yet to free up a pool of disaster funding specifically intended to help families cover burial costs, despite requests from approximately 30 states and territories. In lieu of federal help, grieving families are turning to religious institutions and online fundraisers to bury the dead.

Trump has sharply limited the kinds of assistance that FEMA can provide in responding to the coronavirus pandemic. In an April 28 memorandum, he authorized FEMA to provide crisis counseling services but said that authority “shall not be construed to encompass any authority to approve other forms of assistance.”

In a statement last week, a FEMA spokesperson said the approval of assistance programs “is made at the discretion of the President.” A spokeswoman for the White House’s Office of Management and Budget last week referred questions to FEMA, and she and two White House spokesmen did not respond to a request for comment on Monday.

The administration’s failure so far to pay for funeral costs does not appear to be because of a lack of funds. Congress gave FEMA’s disaster relief fund an extra boost of $45 billion in the Coronavirus Aid, Relief and Economic Security Act in March.

On Sunday, NJ Advance Media reported that as of April 25, FEMA had committed less than $6 billion in disaster relief for the coronavirus pandemic, and it has $80.5 billion in available disaster relief funds. The information was attributed to a FEMA spokesperson. FEMA did not respond to a request to confirm the figures.

Calls for FEMA aid are likely to spike in the coming months, as hurricane season approaches and wildfire activity hits an anticipated peak.

The amount FEMA reimburses for funeral expenses can vary, but a September 2019 report from the Government Accountability Office found that FEMA paid about $2.6 million in response to 976 applications for funeral costs of victims of three 2017 hurricanes, or an average of about $2,700 per approved application. If FEMA provided that amount for every one of the nearly 68,000 people in America reported to have died in the pandemic thus far, it would cost the government about $183 million.

Do you have access to information about the U.S. government response to the coronavirus that should be public? Email yeganeh.torbati@propublica.org. Here’s how to send tips and documents to ProPublica securely.

---