Science
Requiem for the unclaimed dead
On a grassy hillside just east of downtown Los Angeles, a few dozen mourners gathered last week to pay respects to 1,865 people whose names they did not know — men, women and children whose ashes recently joined the remains of 100,000 others laid to rest here since 1896.
The departed interred at Los Angeles County Cemetery had one thing in common, and one thing separating them from those on the other side of the rusty chain link fence demarcating the county plot and neighboring Evergreen Cemetery: they had neither the means for a private burial, nor family to claim their bodies.
Each year in December, those whose remains have been unclaimed for three years are memorialized with an interfaith ceremony. On Thursday, members of the public looked on in respectful silence as representatives of L.A.’s many faiths acknowledged the dead the way they might have wanted: with a Buddhist chant, a smudging of sage, the Lord’s Prayer in Swahili, Hindi and Spanish.
The blessings said over the freshly turned earth hinted at the lives once lived. Many were unhoused. A small handful were never identified. Some were children.
Brian Donnelly drove from Hollywood to witness the ceremony. He suspects a number of the unhoused people he’s come to know from his neighborhood over the years are interred here, he said.
“I think it’s important,” he said of the ceremony, his voice catching. “You come into this world with somebody. You don’t deserve to go out alone.”
In recent years, those who track the way we live and die have noticed a disquieting change.
While there are more tools than ever to identify the unknown dead and track down surviving family members, the percentage of people whose next of kin cannot — or choose not — to claim their remains is increasing, a shift sociologists attribute to changing family dynamics, growing mobility and an epidemic of loneliness.
To go unclaimed “is kind of an exclamation point on a life that was marked by social isolation, especially in later years,” said Pamela Prickett, an associate professor of sociology at Pomona College. “We’re not fully grasping just how much our sense of what we owe each other has changed.”
Prickett is the author, with UCLA sociologist Stefan Timmermans, of “The Unclaimed: Abandonment and Hope in the City of Angels.” In their research, Prickett and Timmermans found, less than 1.2% of those who died in L.A. county in the 1970s were unclaimed by next of kin. In 2013, the most recent year from which data is available, 2.75% of county decedents were not picked up.
That number has continued to rise, the researchers write, both in Los Angeles County and beyond. The percentage of decedents unclaimed in Maryland, one of few states that maintains such records, was 2.1% in 2000 and 4.5% in 2021, the book notes.
To be unclaimed does not in itself mean that a person was unloved in life or unmissed in death. Prickett sees it as the culmination of several significant shifts in the way we live, the net effect of which becomes apparent only once we’ve died.
When the county picks up a person who has died in a facility, residence or public area, and no will or person with power of attorney can be found, the Office of Decedent Affairs and the public administrator work to locate next of kin and determine if the deceased died with any assets. If the county can’t find any living relatives but the deceased had enough savings, the public administrator arranges for a private burial.
Longer lifespans increase the likelihood of a person outliving siblings, spouses and even adult children who might step forward to claim them. They also increase the chance that a person will outlive their financial resources.
“Because somebody died at that moment without money doesn’t mean that the years preceding that were ones in which they didn’t have money,” Prickett said. “It might just be that the nursing home costs zapped their savings.”
If the person died penniless but the notified next of kin does not pick up the body, the county arranges for cremation. It stores the cremated remains for three years, in case a relative comes forward to claim them. Very often, they don’t.
L.A. County charges roughly $400 to pick up cremated remains. Many next of kin lack the ready cash, or the wherewithal to navigate the legal process to waive the fee.
Genealogist Megan Smolenyak is the founder of Unclaimed Persons, a team of volunteer researchers who have assisted local jurisdictions, including L.A. County, in tracking down next of kin.
Some tell Smolenyak that the quality of their relationship with the deceased doesn’t justify the cost of picking up their ashes or arranging a funeral.
“Sometimes, even when there’s quite close living relatives, they just won’t accept the responsibility of being next of kin because they can’t afford it,” Smolenyak said. “It’s like, “I haven’t heard from them in 20 years, and I can’t just afford a funeral out of the blue.’
The COVID pandemic may have further weakened family connections. With restrictions on travel and hospital visitations, final reconciliations with family that may have happened in other years simply didn’t, said the Rev. Chris Ponnet, a Catholic priest and director of spiritual care at Los Angeles General Medical Center.
“It was just a lot of people, all alone,” he said.
Those whose ashes were buried this week died in 2021. The county has not yet released the names of those interred, which will eventually be publicly available in case long-lost kin come seeking them.
On one side of the chain link fence ringing the county cemetery, the brilliant red of tinsel and fresh poinsettias adorning Evergreen graves stood out against the gray stone and sky. On the other, the people of Los Angeles went about their business — some of them lonely, some of them unhoused, some unaware that they were passing the place they will one day come to rest.
Science
Video: NASA Announces Artemis III Crew
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transcript
transcript
NASA Announces Artemis III Crew
NASA announced the crew of Artemis III mission, which will fly to low-Earth orbit to test rendezvous and docking maneuvers with one or two lunar landers.
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“I am excited to welcome you as the next crew in the Artemis journey to successfully return to the moon — this time to stay.” “I’m honored by the role that I’ve been given. I’m also very humbled by the task in front of us. But first and foremost, I’m grateful.” “So with that, the Artemis II crew, comrade, hands you the baton. You got the controls.” “As you know, we had a significant anomaly at our Launch Complex 36A on May 28. We’ve redoubled our efforts and are moving forward.”
By Alisa Shodiyev Kaff
June 9, 2026
Science
Santa Monica Mountains’ last steelhead trout survived the Palisades fire — and even had babies
Scientists feared the Santa Monica Mountains’ last remaining steelhead trout were dead, smothered by debris flows unleashed by the Palisades fire.
But the endangered fish surprised them: A team of biologists recently spotted 30 of the rare trout — and 21 babies — in Topanga Creek.
“There was a lot of happy dancing in the creek,” said Rosi Dagit, principal conservation biologist for the Resource Conservation District of the Santa Monica Mountains, which works with public and private landowners to conserve natural resources.
That’s because the steelhead here are endangered, at both the state and federal levels. Once, they swam in most streams of the Santa Monicas, but their numbers plummeted amid overfishing and coastal development. Increasingly frequent wildfire has further stressed their habitat. Topanga Creek, a biodiversity hot spot, is home to their last known population in the mountains that stretch from the Hollywood Hills to Point Mugu in Ventura County.
The trout that were spotted, including this one, are part of a distinct Southern California population that’s listed as endangered at the state and federal levels.
(RCDSMM Stream Team)
The California Department of Fish and Wildlife spearheaded a complex mission to rescue trout threatened by the Palisades fire that sparked in January 2025.
Time was of the essence. The fire hadn’t yet been fully contained. But rain was on the way, which would sweep massive amounts of sediment from the denuded hillsides into the water. Fish are often killed this way.
Crews stunned the fish with electricity, scooped them up in buckets, trucked them to a hatchery and ultimately moved them to Arroyo Hondo Creek in Santa Barbara County.
Within days, Topanga Creek was choked with mud. Some assumed the fish left behind were goners.
But in March, the conservation district’s team found four. The following month, when water conditions were clearer, they saw more.
“These fish continue to amaze me,” said Kyle Evans, environmental program manager for the state Department of Fish and Wildlife, who had seen the damage to the creek. “I had seen populations get wiped out in similar situations. So when I heard, I was thrilled.”
Evans surmises the fish that survived were in an area of the creek where less charred material and sediment were swept in.
“These fish likely hunkered down, were hiding under some rocks or places to try to get away from the main concentration of flow,” he said. “And luckily they weren’t buried.”
The ones that were spotted were fairly small, around 6 to 14 inches. Rainbow trout and steelhead trout are the same species, but with different lifestyles. If the fish remain in freshwater, they’ll be considered rainbows. However, they can migrate to the ocean and become steelhead, where they typically grow larger before returning to their natal waters to spawn.
Topanga Creek hasn’t fully recovered from the damage it sustained, but scientists say it’s looking better. Surveys last year were “so depressing,” Dagit said, with very few animals, and stretches that were essentially transformed into flat roads from all the sediment buildup. Some of the riparian canopy burned right down to the creek.
Then came 32 inches of rain over the last nine months, scouring out and moving sediment, creating deeper pools. Dagit said they recently found newt egg masses for the first time in years, as well as a few adult newts and many frogs. Plants that provide cover are starting to recover.
She provided photos comparing certain pools last year and this year, some dramatically transformed. In September 2025, the Shrine Pool could have been an overgrown hiking trail. This April, it was filled with shallow water.
The Shrine Pool in September 2025, left, and the same location in April 2026, right, with RCDSMM’s Isaac Yelchin donning a wetsuit.
(RCDSMM Stream Team)
Topanga Creek is home to another endangered fish, the small but hardy northern tidewater goby, often described as cute. Not long before the trout operation, Dagit led a rescue of hundreds of these fish too. Many were repatriated to the lagoon at the mouth of the creek in a moving ceremony last June.
There’s still the matter of what to do with the trout that were moved to Santa Barbara County last year. Evans would like to bring them home to the Santa Monicas at some point, but isn’t sure if it will happen. On one hand, they could bolster the small, genetically isolated surviving population. On the other, they might inadvertently bring in a disease or bacteria. There is some time to decide. Evans estimates the creek still needs to recover for two to three more years.
For now, the fish are functioning fine in their adopted creek. Experts worried the trauma wrought by the move would disrupt their spawning process, but they had babies that spring. This year, they spawned again.
Science
Pacifica pier cracks, another coastal casualty as seas continue to rise
The Pacifica Municipal Pier was shut down and taped off Thursday after city workers noticed cracks running through the landmark structure and concrete chunks falling into the ocean.
It’s just one of many coastal California structures that have recently crumbled under pressure from a rising and relentless ocean.
Officials from the small, beach city south of San Francisco said the pier was closed due to “cracking, separation, and displacement of the concrete walkway and structural elements.”
It will stay closed while structural engineers asses its safety.
Photos taken by city employees show a wide crack that runs from top to bottom and across the structure as well. Other photos show a large horizontal crack under the foundation of a small restaurant on the pier, the Chit Chat Cafe.
The cafe was also shut down.
This is not the first time the 53-year-old pier has shown signs of stress. In 2021, part of it was shut down after handrails along the edge collapsed. And in 2023, after a series of storms pummeled the Central California coast, damaging parts of the pier, the structure was partially closed for more than year.
Those same storms caused extensive damage in Aptos and Capitola, 70 miles south, where piers and waterfront infrastructure were swept away or damaged.
In 2024, a 150- to 180- foot section of the Santa Cruz wharf was ripped off by powerful waves.
At least 10 of the state’s dozens of coastal public piers were closed for part or all of 2024 due to structural damage sustained in winter storms since 2022. At least five others have longer-term upgrades planned to address structural issues.
“These things are costly to maintain,” said Zach Plopper, senior environmental director at Surfrider. “They are a part of our California coastal culture in many ways, but we’re going to need to reckon with, one, the state that they’re in, and two, the continuous and worsening threats they’re going to experience,”
He said most of the piers were constructed in the early 1900s, and they weren’t built to withstand decades of rough seas, storms and rising sea level.
“With this incoming El Niño, which is forecasted to be significant, and this marine heat wave we’re in the midst of, we’re kind of in uncharted waters as far as what this winter could bring in terms of storms and swells to the California coast, and we’re likely going to see a lot more damage,” he said. “Not just piers, but roads and other coastal infrastructure up and down the state.”
There was no storm in Pacifica earlier this week, so no single event could be blamed for the destruction.
However, a 2025 report from an outside engineering firm, GHD, found that several sections of the pier were in “poor” or “serious” condition, and they recommended closure before anticipated storms or events that could “subject the piles to high winds, swells and large waves.”
The firm found several areas of the pier where concrete was missing and rebar was exposed and corroding.
“The pier has continued to experience high winds and large waves in a harsh marine environment,” the engineers wrote in the report, noting that continuous exposure to seawater or marine spray was “detrimental” to the structure.
A 2023 city report estimated it would cost $19 million to repair.
That same year, a state law was enacted to require local governments along the California coast to plan for sea level rise in the coming decades.
Sea level has risen some 8 inches, on average, along the coast in the past 150 years, Plopper said, and researchers anticipate another foot in the next 25 years.
“We’re going to see profound shifts on our coastline, none that we have ever experienced before, and building static structures on the coast just doesn’t work all that well,” he said. “We’re going to have to make some really hard decisions.”
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