The Sun (San Bernardino)

Student intern program pushed

State superinten­dent Thurmond looks to help teens, young adults learn about career opportunit­ies

- By Jose Herrera City News Service

LOS ANGELES » As part of a summit focused on preparing students for the future, State Superinten­dent of Public Instructio­n Tony Thurmond on Tuesday called for the developmen­t of a statewide paid internship program to help teens and young adults work and learn about career pathways.

The two-day summit held at the California Department of Education headquarte­rs in Sacramento and broadcast online is aimed at connecting partners such as school districts, workforce agencies, public housing agencies and government agencies, among others, to develop the internship program and help prevent youths from engaging in crime, according to Thurmond’s office.

The paid internship program will also be designed to connect participan­ts with career advisers to “ensure they have a secure role in the global economy in the years ahead.”

During a news conference to begin the summit, Thurmond said there are thousands of students who are homeless across the state and many more who are on their own, stressing that students are in need of housing, mental health support and career advising.

“That’s what this summit is about — building together with partners from every sector,” Thurmond said. “We will be designing today for the next hour or two, a strategy for how to launch a statewide youth strategy for paid internship­s.”

Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass joined the news conference virtually from L.A. City Hall. She noted that Los Angeles, like other California cities, has become expensive to live in.

Bass added that while for some individu

council meetings to employees had relayed the sounds of gunfire.

“Anybody who was in City Hall could hear the shots,” recalled Colleen Nicol, who was city clerk in 1998.

During the luncheon, a portion of a hidden-camera video was played.

Somewhat comically in retrospect, the city manager was concerned because art on the conference room walls, and purses left unattended, had been stolen. So a ceiling sprinklerh­ead was removed and replaced by a video camera. The camera ended up documentin­g a portion of the assault.

Only a portion of the room is visible in the footage, which is silent. Thompson can be seen lying prone on the carpet. The fight with Beaty occurs partly on camera. He crumples to the floor. Neale at various points darts back and forth across the room in leaping steps.

Portions of 911 conversati­ons were played.

“Oh my God, Chuck Beaty was shot in the face,” a woman’s voice says.

Beaty crawled outside onto the steps of City Hall. A police officer, responding to the reports of a shooting, took off Beaty’s necktie and tried to stop the flow of blood.

In the conference room, Neale brought out duct tape from his bag.

“He taped the door like he was preparing a tomb,” Loveridge recalled. “There was no exit.”

Neale turned his attention to the concealed Loveridge and Moore.

“He grabbed my belt and was pulling me from under the table,” Loveridge recalled. “I thought, that’s it. It’s over.”

At this moment, police, directed down the hallway by the city manager, pounded on the door and used a pry bar. Neale fired at them. Police fired back.

Said Eric Feimer, a police sergeant who was at the scene that day: “He was going to kill everybody, not leave any hostages and kill himself.”

Instead, Neale, shot in both thighs and his groin, surrendere­d. Police bullets also wounded Pearson, the councilper­son.

The whole incident lasted 18 minutes, Loveridge recalled.

Loveridge received 16 stitches in the back of his neck. Moore and Thompson, now both deceased, suffered hearing loss. Pearson, now known as Laura Densmore, had brain injuries.

Chris Manning, the police sergeant who led the rescue, was grazed by a bullet. Wally Rice, another sergeant, was hurt more seriously and never returned to field duty.

Beaty’s wife was told he probably wasn’t going to make it. He did. But he’s had a series of surgeries and is usually in pain in either his jaw or hip.

Neale was sentenced to 374 years in prison. It’s possible he will come up for a parole hearing in 2025. Time flies.

Survivors have met every five years at Beaty’s home to reflect, catch up and talk through that day. For the 25th anniversar­y, Mayor Patricia Lock Dawson offered to host it at City Hall. Left unspoken was the thought that Beaty, 88, and Loveridge, 85, might not make the 30th.

The conference room still exists, although it’s no longer as accessible. Some of us visited it after the luncheon.

That everyone got out alive in 1998 was partly because police acted rather than try to negotiate with Neale. It was also due to Neale’s decision to shoot with a small handgun and to seemingly not train with it.

“He was probably 6, 7 feet away,” Loveridge recalled. “I’ve never shot a gun, but I can’t believe that if I shot from that close that I would miss.”

If only more of today’s mass shooters had bad aim.

David Allen writes Wednesday, Friday and Sunday, three misfires. Email dallen@scng.com, phone 909-483-9339, like davidallen­columnist on Facebook and follow @ davidallen­909 on Twitter.

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