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Many acres of wetlands across the vast Mississippi River basin would lose federal protection under a new rule proposed by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. 

Agricultural and builders’ groups have called it a win for private property owners. Environmental groups warn that it will exacerbate costly challenges like flooding that already plague the river and its tributaries. 

The new rule, proposed Monday, is the latest in a convoluted, decades-long fight over which streams and wetlands qualify as “Waters of the United States” and thus are regulated by the federal government under the Clean Water Act. Environmental advocates claim more expansive federal protections are needed to preserve the country’s natural resources, while some farmers and homebuilders argue the government is overstepping its authority to control how they use their land. 

A landmark 2023 U.S. Supreme Court case, Sackett v. EPA, used a narrow definition to determine which wetlands get federal protections. EPA Administrator Lee Zeldin promised earlier this year that the agency would adjust its definitions to comply. The proposed rule delivers on that promise.

The proposal will be open for public comment for 45 days before it moves forward.

Wetland advocates are still parsing details of the proposal but say they’re concerned with the impacts it could have. 

“This does not help any of the issues the basin is facing,” said Kelly McGinnis, executive director of One Mississippi, a group that advocates for the river. “Whether we’re talking water quality and pollution, trying to mitigate the impact of the more frequent floods and droughts we’re seeing — removing even more wetland protections … is devastating.” 

States along Mississippi River have varied wetlands protections 

In Sackett v. EPA, a couple asked the Supreme Court to restrict federal regulations of wetlands so they could build a home on their northern Idaho property. The court ruled in their favor, saying only wetlands that have a continuous surface connection with another r protected water body — such as a permanent, navigable waterway — qualify for protections under the Clean Water Act. 

The Clean Water Act protects the “Waters of the United States” but it does not define them. That has fallen to the EPA, which has changed its definition repeatedly since the law’s passing in 1972. The murkiness and scope of the definitions has long frustrated stakeholders. 

In a news release, Zeldin said the new EPA rule follows the Sackett decision closely, granting protections only to wetlands that touch another protected water body and have visible water for at least part of the year.

Experts say a wetland is doing work even if it doesn’t usually have water in it or is isolated. The benefits of wetlands lie in their ability to relieve flooding, purify water, mitigate drought and provide wildlife habitat. Experts say in an era of increased storms, droughts and floods wrought by climate change, they’re needed now more than ever. 

Many groups have attempted to predict how many wetlands will lose protections following the Sackett decision, but the actual impact is yet to be understood. What is clear is that with more limited federal regulation, states will have different rules governing wetlands. 

Along the Mississippi River, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Tennessee and Mississippi have wetland protections that go beyond the Clean Water Act, a Mississippi River Basin Ag & Water Desk analysis found. Mississippi, which has 4 million acres of wetlands, protects these areas beyond the federal progam with state laws, such as the Coastal Wetland Protection, which specially targets coastal areas.

Iowa, Illinois, Missouri, Kentucky and Arkansas do not have more protective wetland laws on the books. Louisiana extends state protections to its coastal wetlands, but not inland ones.

And state laws are still moving targets. Tennessee lawmakers, for example, voted this year to roll back protections that had been in place since the 1970s requiring developers and landowners to seek state permission and pay for mitigation before draining or altering isolated wetlands. In Illinois, where researchers have estimated about 72% of the state’s remaining wetlands could lose federal protections under Sackett, lawmakers have drafted legislation beefing up their state’s regulations, though they have not passed it, yet.

There are also unanswered questions about how the Sackett decision would affect areas along the Mississippi and other rivers where the river’s main channel is separated from the floodplain by built levees — a concern Justice Brett Kavanaugh mentioned directly in his concurring opinion on the case. 

Wetland-rich Louisiana, in particular, relies on manmade flood control structures to try and hold back floodwaters from low-lying communities. State legislation passed in 2025 made wetland areas behind levees ineligible for state protection. 

Should those areas lose federal protection, it opens them up to “a ton of risky development,” said Haley Gentry, assistant director at the Tulane Institute on Water Resources Law and Policy in New Orleans. 

“The reason to not build in a wetland shouldn’t have been, ‘Oh, you have to get this pesky federal permit,’” Gentry said. “It’s that wetlands flood … this is not creating more affordable housing, if you’re building risky homes in flood zones.” 

Mississippi River basin wetlands are already in trouble 

Groups like the American Farm Bureau Federation and the National Association of Manufacturers, whose members faced the potential of hefty fines if they altered federally regulated wetlands, have reacted positively to Zeldin’s proposed rule. 

The groups have complained that the previous definition, which was published in early 2023 and protected a broader swath of wetlands, left farmers confused about things like what constitutes a continuous surface connection between a wetland and a water body, said Courtney Briggs, senior director of government affairs for the American Farm Bureau Federation. 

“The fact that this administration has come in and given definitions to those terms already improves the situation significantly,” Briggs said. “It gives our farmers more confidence in using their own land.” 

Environmental groups, however, say that there will be consequences of the administration’s effort to make it easier for people to drain and fill wetlands for their own purposes. 

“They have, in this rule-making, completely ignored the costs of fewer wetlands and more polluted water to communities around the country,” said Mark Sabath, a senior attorney at the Southern Environmental Law Center.

In Mississippi, protecting wetlands is at the heart of the fight against the Yazoo Pumps, a flood relief project that the U.S Army Corps of Engineers has touted for decades. The project now also has the backing of the Environmental Protection Agency, whose veto killed a previous iteration in 2008 because of the pumps’ potential to harm 67,000 acres of valuable wetland habitat. In a Jan. 8 letter, the EPA wrote that proposed mitigation components are “expected to reduce adverse effects to an acceptable level.”

However conservationists, including a group of former EPA employees, are not convinced. 

The Mississippi River basin is home to many different types of wetlands, from Minnesota’s peatlands to the swamps of the Gulf South. In some places, they carry economic benefits of their own — like in Arkansas, where they provide crucial habitat for waterfowl that hunters spend big money to shoot. 

According to data from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, 132,000 acres of wetland across the basin were lost between 2009 and 2019, the equivalent of about 100,000 football fields. 

The last time EPA was reworking its definition of the“Waters of the United States,” in 2022, the  Mississippi River Collaborative, a consortium of environmental groups focused on the river,  wrote that the link between continued destruction of wetlands and increased nutrient pollution, a persistent problem for the Mississippi River, “is very clear.” 

“One cannot protect waters like the Illinois, Mississippi, and Ohio Rivers and the Gulf of Mexico without protecting wetlands and small streams,” they wrote. 

Alex Rozier with Mississippi Today contributed to this report.

This story is a product of the Mississippi River Basin Ag & Water Desk, an independent reporting network based at the University of Missouri in partnership with Report for America, with major funding from the Walton Family Foundation.

The Walton Family Foundation is also a Mississippi Today donor. Donors do not in any way influence our newsroom’s editorial decisions. For more on that policy or to view a list of our donors, click here.

After more than 25 years on death row in Louisiana, Jimmie Duncan inched one step closer to freedom Friday when Judge Alvin Sharp of the 4th Judicial District in Ouachita Parish granted him bail, setting it at $150,000.

The decision comes nearly seven months after Sharp vacated Duncan’s 1998 first-degree murder conviction for killing his former girlfriend’s 23-month-old daughter, Haley Oliveaux, finding that it was based in part on bite mark evidence now considered by experts to be junk science.

The Ouachita Parish District Attorney’s Office has opposed Duncan’s release, arguing that Duncan is guilty of the murder. But in his bail ruling, Sharp pointed to evidence that the girl, who drowned, was at risk of seizure, meaning she could have died accidentally while in the tub. Sharp also noted the lack of blood or semen at the scene, contradicting the state’s position that Duncan raped Haley. And, he wrote in the ruling, there was a video, not presented at the trial, that Duncan’s legal team has alleged is evidence that — along with being based on debunked science — the bite-mark analysis in the case may have been fabricated.  

The “presumption is not great” that Duncan is guilty, Sharp said.

“This ruling acknowledged the clear and convincing evidence showing that Mr. Duncan is factually innocent,” his attorneys said in a prepared statement. “Although Mr. Duncan’s ordeal is not over, today marks a significant step forward for Mr. Duncan’s complete exoneration.”

His attorneys said they were working to get Duncan out of prison over the weekend. 

This week’s ruling is yet another chapter in a nearly three-decade legal odyssey that has spotlighted Louisiana’s troubling history with wrongful convictions, as well as its long-held reputation as one of the country’s most punitive states.

As ProPublica and Verite News reported in March, Duncan’s conviction was based largely on now discredited bite mark evidence presented by forensic dentist Michael West and pathologist Dr. Steven Hayne, whose longtime partnership as state experts has been questioned following concerns about the validity of their techniques. West and Hayne also worked on several disputed court cases in Mississippi.

Over the past 27 years, nine prisoners have been set free after being convicted in part on inaccurate evidence given by West and Hayne. Three of those men were on death row. Duncan was the last person awaiting an execution based on the pair’s work.

Duncan, 56, has maintained his innocence since first being arrested in 1993 after Haley’s death. In the ensuing years, Haley’s mother, Allison Layton Statham, has come to support Duncan’s release. At Duncan’s first bail hearing in July, Statham testified that she believes Duncan to be innocent and demanded his release from prison.

Efforts to free Duncan have become even more urgent given the state’s recent moves, under conservative Gov. Jeff Landry, to restart executions following a lapse of more than a decade. 

Louisiana had not carried out a death sentence since 2010 as it has been unable to procure the drugs necessary for an execution. To overcome that obstacle, the state Legislature, at Landry’s urging, recently approved an alternative method: the use of nitrogen gas, a controversial method allowed in only three other states.

That opened the door to Louisiana’s first execution in 15 years. And on March 18, the state used nitrogen gas to put Jesse Hoffman Jr. to death. 

To criminal justice reformers, Landry’s execution push is even more concerning given the state’s history in convicting and sentencing to death people later found to be innocent. In the past three decades, the state has exonerated 11 people facing execution, among the highest such numbers in the country, according to The National Registry of Exonerations.

Despite Sharp’s finding in April that Duncan is factually innocent, Ouachita prosecutors continue to insist that Duncan raped and murdered Oliveaux and should be executed without delay. The district attorney’s office, in urging Sharp to keep Duncan locked up, has argued that Duncan is “a safety risk to not only the victim’s family, but also the general public.” The office has appealed the decision to the Louisiana Supreme Court. 

Duncan was arrested Dec. 18, 1993 after he reported finding Haley’s lifeless body floating in the tub of the home he shared with the girl’s mother in West Monroe. Duncan, who was babysitting that night, told authorities he had put the toddler in the tub to take a bath, then went downstairs to wash dishes. When he heard a noise coming from the bathroom, he rushed upstairs to check on her and found Haley floating face down in the water. She was pronounced dead a few hours later.

Prosecutors enlisted the assistance of Hayne, who had worked on hundreds of criminal cases in Mississippi and Louisiana over his decades-long career. Hayne conducted Haley’s medical exam and claimed he found evidence that she was sexually assaulted and intentionally drowned. He also claimed he found bite marks on her body.

Hayne’s frequent partner, West, then analyzed the marks and found that they were a match for Duncan’s teeth. Based in part on those findings, Duncan was charged with first-degree murder. After about two weeks of testimony in 1998, the jury found Duncan guilty and sentenced him to death.

Duncan’s post-conviction attorneys, however, later uncovered a trove of evidence which, they said, proves he is innocent and was wrongfully convicted, the most damning of which calls into question whether the bite marks Hayne said he found on Haley’s body were manufactured.

In a video of West’s 1993 examination of Haley — which was not shown to jurors at the trial — the dentist can be seen taking a mold of Duncan’s teeth and grinding it into the girl’s body. (West has previously said he was simply using what he called a “direct comparison” technique — in which he presses a mold of a person’s teeth directly onto the location of suspected bite marks.)

In his April ruling vacating Duncan’s conviction, Sharp said the work Hayne and West did on Duncan’s case was “no longer valid” and “not scientifically defensible.” Sharp also stated in his ruling that he found “very compelling” the September testimony of an expert medical witness who said that the child’s death was not the result of a homicide but of an accidental drowning. Prior to her death, Haley suffered several head injuries that could have caused seizures resulting in her drowning, according to the testimony.

Robert S. Tew, district attorney for Ouachita and Morehouse parishes, has argued that despite experts now dismissing bite mark evidence as “junk science,” it was an accepted methodology at the time of Duncan’s trial and that some experts still consider it to be valid. He has also noted that Hayne, who died in 2020, served as the pathologist for the district for over a decade and during that time “there has been no cases overturned because of Dr. Hayne’s autopsy.”

Tew’s office did not immediately respond to a request for comment. 

An initial bail hearing for Duncan held in July was delayed after prosecutors filed a motion to recuse Sharp, claiming he was biased given his earlier decision to set aside Duncan’s conviction. Sharp declined the request. In an October ruling, the Louisiana Supreme Court rejected the state’s appeal in a 6-1 vote. The court has yet to take up the state’s appeal of Sharp’s decision to set aside Duncan’s conviction.

As of publication time, it was not clear when Duncan may be released. 

Full food assistance benefits are now being issued to recipients after a software glitch delayed the payments for a week, the Mississippi Department of Human Services announced Friday. 

“Clients can expect their total benefit balance to be available as soon as today,” the agency said in a press release. 

The slowdown was the result of a software system issue. December benefits are expected to be issued on time. 

The nation’s largest food assistance program was paused beginning in November after the federal government said it would not use emergency funds to pay for the program, even though benefits have continued to flow to states in past shutdowns. 

Confusion ensued after more than a dozen states sued the Trump administration for its refusal to issue benefits. Mississippi said it would begin issuing partial benefits Nov. 10 in accordance with guidance from the United States Department of Agriculture, the federal agency that administers the program.

The state Department of Human Services announced that food assistance benefits were set to resume as normal on Nov. 13 after the longest federal government shutdown in U.S. history came to an end. 

About 1 in 8 Mississippians — over 350,000 people — receive food assistance through SNAP. More than 67% of participants are in households with children, and about 41% are in households with older adults or adults with a disability. In four Mississippi counties, over a third of residents rely on the program to purchase food, according to a report from WLBT.

The state Department of Human Services awarded a contract to Deloitte Consulting LLP to improve the agency’s software system in May. Most MDHS eligibility systems were created over 35 years ago, according to the press release announcing the award. The software upgrades are set to be complete in 2027, according to Jones.

MDHS encourages SNAP clients to check their account balance to confirm receipt of benefits. The agency also recommends registering for a ConnectEBT account and saving ConnectEBT to their cell phone home screen to change their PIN after every use to reduce the risk of fraud.

Editor’s note: This essay is part of Mississippi Today Ideas, a platform for thoughtful Mississippians to share fact-based ideas about our state’s past, present and future. You can read more about the section here.

On my first day of school in Mississippi, a boy pinned me to the ground and made me eat dirt. I was a California kid dropped into the Deep South in the 1980s and learned quickly that I didn’t belong. That moment set the tone for the rest of my years there.

My family was multiracial. My sister had been adopted from Korea. Back home, that didn’t raise eyebrows. In Mississippi, people would ask where we “got” her, as if she were something that came with a label. I saw people living in tarpaper shacks just down the road from our home in Madison.

Even as a kid I could feel something settled in the ground and in the air. A weight. A history. A tension that told me everything I needed to know without anyone saying it out loud. I understood early that the place was not built for someone like me.

When I finally left after seventh grade, I made myself a promise: I would never set foot in Mississippi again. And for almost 40 years, I’ve kept that promise. I planned my life around avoiding the state, even once choosing to vacation in Europe so I wouldn’t have to attend a company retreat in Biloxi. Mississippi was a closed chapter. A place I ran from and never looked back.

Then came Lane Kiffin.

The irony is obvious. I grew up in a UCLA and San Francisco 49ers household. Lane Kiffin is USC and the Raiders. He survived getting fired on an airport tarmac while coaching the University of Southern California football team. He survived Raiders owner Al Davis publicly dressing him down like he had no business holding a headset.

Yet, he looks calmer in Oxford than anywhere he has ever been. Maybe he has found his elusive peace in Mississippi. And I respect that deeply. Peace was not something Mississippi ever offered me.

Kiffin and I are opposites, but we share one thing. We have lived like vagabonds. Always on the move. Always trying to outrun something. For him, it was pressure, expectations and the shadow of his own potential. For me, it was a childhood I wanted to forget and a place I refused to return to. Mississippi wasn’t my place, but maybe it’s his. And there is something admirable about seeing a man find a home in the last place anyone expected.

He has made me rethink things I didn’t think were up for reconsideration. I find myself rooting for him to stay, and in a strange way, rooting for the people of Mississippi to win this one. LSU and Florida can circle all they want. I hope he stays right where he is.

I’m not saying I’m ready to book a ticket back or retrace the streets of my childhood. But I can say that I no longer feel the hard line I once drew. Mississippi will probably never be my place, but I can appreciate that it has become someone else’s. And in watching Lane Kiffin settle into the life he has built there, I’ve felt something I never expected.

A softening. A shift. A recognition that even the places we leave can still hold something worthwhile.

So, yes, I’m rooting for him to stay. I’m rooting for Ole Miss to keep its coach. And for the first time in my life, I’m rooting for Mississippi, too.

Lance J. Mayhew is a published author who writes about food, wine, travel and spirits. He runs a celebrity-backed gin distillery, appears regularly on Portland’s top-rated morning drive radio show and serves as honorary consul for the Republic of Namibia. He lived in Mississippi during the 1980s before building his career in the Pacific Northwest.

Bullets came flying through the walls of teenager Kamia Feazell’s south Jackson apartment shortly after she moved there with her mother.

The ninth-grader was standing in her bedroom in their second-floor unit early one morning when a bullet whizzed past her neck and through a wooden door, sending splinters into her face.  

She screamed and dropped to the floor, thinking she’d been shot. 

At first, she had trouble sleeping after the incident. But Feazell has since adjusted to routine gunfire at Pine Ridge Gardens, better known as Rebelwood – one of the most troubled apartment complexes in Jackson.

“I’m not scared anymore,” said Feazell, who recently graduated high school. “I hear a shot, ‘Oh, they’re shooting in the back.’ That’s it.”

But she does wish management would patch the other bullet holes in their walls: in the kitchen cabinet next to where they keep cereal boxes, a foot away from their living room window, beside the front door. 

These scars represent just a sliver of the grim housing conditions plaguing some of the more than 400 residents of this federally subsidized complex. Mold and mildew. Electrical problems. Broken windows. Rusty appliances. Water leaks. 

These hazards are not a secret. City, state and federal officials who oversee Rebelwood know the complex is plagued. They’ve documented the issues in police reports and physical inspection forms.

But their oversight has so far failed to result in lasting improvements to the perennially troubled complex – a result, experts say, of low inspection standards and weak enforcement. 

The deficiencies persist even as regulators have required Rebelwood’s owners to make repairs. 

In 2023, Rebelwood passed its most recent routine inspection by the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development with a score of 78 out of 100. HUD records show the inspection identified life-threatening issues with the complex, but a spokesperson for the agency would not provide information about the violation. 

“Does it look like a 78?” said Bridgett Simmons, an attorney with the National Housing Law Project.

The complex is also overseen by the Mississippi Home Corporation, a state housing finance authority that awarded affordable housing tax credits to a previous owner of the complex. During Rebelwood’s last routine inspection in 2018, the agency gave the complex three tries and six months to correct the issues, such as a burned floor, broken window panes and roaches. 

Based on the authority’s inspection cycle, Rebelwood should have been reinspected by now. But Scott Spivey, the Mississippi Home Corporation president, said work pauses during the COVID-19 pandemic created a backlog. Two days after Mississippi Today submitted a public records request for inspection and audits, Mississippi Home Corporation scheduled an inspection for later this month. 

Even if the inspection finds problems at Rebelwood, Spivey said his agency lacks the ability to take stronger action for older complexes like Rebelwood because the greatest enforcement capability it has is to ban them from seeking future tax credits – something owners may have no intention of pursuing, anyway.

“Our tools for enforcement, our arsenal, is vastly compromised,” Spivey said.

Jackson is far from the only city to struggle with upkeeping its affordable housing stock. But Simmons said that is no excuse when “people, in particular the tenants at this property, are being harmed.” 

Mayor John Horhn created a housing task force in July, soon after he took office. His action was spurred in part by water shutoffs at complexes where landlords had failed to pay their water bills. 

“No landlord should put a family in harm’s way,” Horhn declared during his State of the City address in October. 

Jennifer Welch, a rental property owner who chairs the task force, said the city intends for its rental registry, created by ordinance in 2022, to help ameliorate some of these problems by using it to track landlords throughout Jackson. The city does not have any active code enforcement cases against Rebelwood, according to a public records request. 

But while the city works to get the registry going, conditions at Rebelwood continue to deteriorate. 

Last year, its previous owner, a New Jersey-based affordable housing behemoth called the Michaels Organization, sold the complex along with 10 others in Mississippi to another New Jersey company. The buyer and current owner, Treetop Companies, did not respond to repeated requests for comment. 

“People just talk about it and keep talking about it and nothing has happened,” Tonia Cowart, a housing navigator with Stewpot Community Services, said about the dire problems at apartment complexes in Jackson. “It kills hope. It makes you feel like well, ain’t nothing ever gonna change.” 

Continued violations

Rebelwood is a collection of brick-and-tan buildings tucked off Terry Road, down a hilly, wooded driveway. On the sunny October day that Cowart visited the complex, no security could be seen. The gate was open, plywood covered several unit windows, and a gray door to the front office was locked. Dogs slept under trees, so still they seemed dead.

It felt as if Rebelwood had no landlord at all. 

As Cowart walked to a courtyard near the front of the complex, looking for tenants to talk to, a tall, sinewy man named Calvin Williams emerged from his apartment and insisted on sharing his story. 

A 63-year-old painter and maintenance worker, Williams said he’s been surrounded by squalor since he moved to Rebelwood two and a half years ago. The outlets in his bedroom don’t work, so he’s had to squish his belongings into his living room and use a MacFyvered system of electrical cords to power his heart monitor. 

In recent weeks, he’s been distracted by a more pressing issue: hot water falling from the light in his kitchen ceiling. 

“It’s hot as hell because it dropped on my shoulder and burned it,” Williams told Cowart. 

Cowart has helped tenants secure units at Rebelwood and hears about problems like this regularly. But her ability to take action as a navigator is often limited to what she can see: Before she places a client in an apartment complex, she will undertake her own inspection to ensure the unit is up to code. 

Rebelwood’s regulators are supposed to catch a fuller picture. 

During Mississippi Home Corporation’s 2018 routine inspection, records show the agency examined 22 out of 160 units, flagging issues at 15. In the unit that would eventually become Williams’, the inspection found that a smoke alarm was “chirping.” 

Mississippi Home Corporation deemed the complex out of compliance, Spivey said. It would take three more inspections before the agency recorded that Michaels had made all the repairs.

Each time the housing agency followed up at Rebelwood and found it noncompliant, though, invoices show they levied a fine against Michaels.

That fine – the agency’s standard fee for noncompliance – was $110. The maximum fine for failing to file annual paperwork on time? $3,000.

By mid-2022, Michaels had racked up $3,330 in fines and begun trying to sell Rebelwood.

That same year, HUD flagged the company for defaulting on the terms of the contract that allows it to draw down federal funding for Rebelwood, according to a lawsuit filed in Hinds County last year. 

“Default means something serious is happening and now you are subject to the enforcement mechanisms,” Simmons said. 

HUD did not answer questions from Mississippi Today about why the company defaulted. But the plaintiff, another out-of-state investment company that was seeking to buy Rebelwood from Michaels, alleged the complex suffered from widespread issues, including fire damage to multiple units, a lack of carbon monoxide detectors and “major housekeeping and infestation problems.”

Within six months, HUD had deemed the property back in compliance, the lawsuit says. The complex would pass its HUD inspection the following year. 

But its new owner, Treetop, is repeating some mistakes of past owners. While Rebelwood is currently in good standing with Mississippi Home Corporation over its physical condition, it is out of compliance after failing to submit its 2025 annual report on time.

Paralyzed by distrust 

Williams has tried his best to make his apartment home, decorating it with posters and a Dallas Cowboys-themed pendant light. But he can’t hide the smell: His unit reeked of mold and bleach, and his kitchen floor was slick with water. Cowart asked if she could get closer to take a video of the ceiling leak.

“It just ain’t no light up in there,” he said. 

When regulators can’t improve a property, Cowart said tenants need to stand up for themselves. It’s a lesson she learned from her mom when they lived at Rebelwood in the 1990s, their first apartment in Jackson. 

“We had to go hard,” she said. “It’s like, you’re being bullied and you finally have to say, ‘OK, what you gonna do?’” 

But the violence at Rebelwood makes it hard for people to trust each other, let alone work together. News articles regularly feature the complex for shootings and killings. A social media creator dedicated an entire Facebook page to videos of fights there.

Williams says he trusts his dog, Peanut Butter, more than any human at the complex. Earlier this year, he said he was sitting on his bed when a man walked past his window, a bag of meat in hand, calling out to see if anyone would help him cook it. Williams said he looked at his red charcoal grill and decided to help. 

“By the time I got the cornbread out, I heard the gunshots,” he said. The man with the meat had been gunned down.

Mississippi Today interviewed the homicide victim’s mother, Henrietta Cooper-Middleton, who said the complex should be shut down.

“I had told him that he needed to be careful about going over there, because I had heard it was dangerous and people were getting killed,” she said. 

Multiple tenants told Mississippi Today that they are withholding rent because the landlord has not made repairs to their units. But this step, a common tool for tenants, lacks force so long as Rebelwood continues to draw down federal funds. The average rent a tenant pays at Rebelwood is just $145, while HUD pays $1,010 per filled unit, according to data from the agency. 

Residents also may not know who to complain to: While some residents across the state take initiative to identify that Mississippi Home Corporation has some oversight and submit complaints, the agency hasn’t recorded any recent complaints from Rebelwood. 

When it feels no one is looking out for them, Cowart said some residents find their time is better spent trying to leave. 

Feazell’s brother, 20-year-old Keymone Feazell, says he goes to work at a steel fabricator and comes home and tries not to talk to anyone. The family, which is from Jackson, moved to Rebelwood after a stint in Texas, they said, because it was the only affordable unit they could find.

“We don’t belong out here,” he said. 

Often perplexed by what they witness at the complex, the siblings are biding their time until work or school takes them elsewhere. Their mom, Latisha Feazell, is on a waiting list for another affordable housing complex, but it’s in Vicksburg, and she doesn’t want to move there. 

Keymone plans to become a truck driver. He wants to get paid to see the country – and to get as far away from Rebelwood as he can. 

Cantrell Keyes is working 90-hour weeks and losing $15,000 a month at the child care center she directs in Jackson.

Nearly half of the 46 families attending Agape Christian Academy World last spring lost access to Child Care Payment Program vouchers, which are essentially coupons that make child care affordable, Keyes said. Ten families left the facility as a result, and another 10 of the remaining families are not paying Keyes the full tuition. Keyes says she will keep serving her families until the day the center’s faltering finances puts her out of business. 

“I have been in the industry for close to 30 years now and never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would be going out like this,” Keyes said with tears in her eyes. 

She worries that day will be soon if the state doesn’t come up with money to plug the hole left by depleted pandemic funds that were enhancing the Child Care Payment Program.

Keyes’ situation is far from unique. Overall, 16,000 Mississippi families are on a waitlist for child care vouchers as a result of expired Covid-era funding, according to the Mississippi Department of Human Services. During the pandemic, the federal government gave states $52 billion to enhance vouchers that help working families afford child care. Since the money has dried up, that stability is withering away. Parents are losing their jobs, children are suffering inconsistent care, child care workers are being laid off and providers are going without pay or shuttering their facilities, according to advocates and industry leaders who spoke with Mississippi Today. 

“It’s a huge crisis for child care centers and parents, and we’re hearing from them every day,” said Carol Burnett of the Mississippi Low-Income Child Care Initiative. “This one center’s (Agape’s) experience times a thousand is really what’s happening in Mississippi right now.”

The Mississippi Department of Human Services has resumed vetting families coming up for redetermination – an annual review of eligibility, explained Mark Jones, chief communications officer at the agency. If families earn too much to qualify for the vouchers and fall off or leave the program, those families will no longer receive vouchers, and the department will begin working through the waitlist. 

For the first time during the last legislative session, Mississippi lawmakers appropriated $15 million of state funds to the child care voucher program. However, that was less than half of what the department requested. Thousands of families were left on the waitlist. 

Given the need, advocates hoped the Legislature would put more money toward the program this year. But in September’s Legislative Budget Committee hearing, MDHS did not ask lawmakers for money for child care. 

Instead, Bob Anderson, director of the Mississippi Department of Human Services, asked for $15 million to pay for the state’s Supplemental Nutrition Access Program after the so-called One Big Beautiful Bill, which Congress passed and President Donald Trump signed into law in July, gutted the program and turned much of the costs over to states. If received, that $15 million that Anderson requested will go toward administrative costs of implementing new federally-mandated bureaucratic requirements for checking if SNAP recipients qualify to receive those benefits. 

In the spring, the Legislature could choose to appropriate money for child care. But in light of Anderson’s request – and his silence on the need for more resources for child care despite ongoing waitlists – experts suggest the need to stop the bleeding after historic federal funding cuts has shifted the state’s priorities when it comes to making child care more affordable.

Meanwhile, nurturing the state’s youngest citizens remains a burden for child care providers like Keyes, who is having a hard time keeping her center financially afloat. 

“I’m just handling it day by day by day by day right now,” she said. “And sometimes I feel like I’m underneath the water and just my face is up with my nose and I’m really trying not to come under because the community needs us.”

‘She grew up here’

Keyes said she has done everything in her power not to have to kick families out. She had to let six of her employees go, reduced four of her staff members from full time to part time and picked up the slack herself by taking on extra responsibilities such as bus driving and preparing lesson plans. She has also stretched resources further and offered discounted tuition to parents who offer work in exchange around the school, such as cutting the grass. She says that’s what community means to her. 

“Putting them out is not going to benefit me because I’m going to just be sitting up here wondering, ‘Where are they?’” Keyes said with a laugh. “What benefits me is knowing they’re in a safe place and then the mom or dad can continue doing what they need to do – working or going to school.”

Many of the children she serves come from households of young, single parents or are being cared for by grandparents. Nearly two-thirds of the school’s families are currently receiving vouchers or have in the past. 

Jazmine Donerson and her sister, Jalan Donerson, both have children who attend Agape and have accrued over $8,000 in unpaid tuition fees after losing their vouchers in June and August, respectively. 

“I recently just lost everything in an apartment fire,” said Jazmine Donerson, a single mom who interns as a medical assistant full time and works an evening shift at Family Dollar. “When I lost the voucher, it was hard for me to make payments. If my daughter wasn’t able to come to this daycare, I wouldn’t have anybody to watch her. I wouldn’t be able to go to school and try to better both our lives.”

She says the debt and the anxiety of getting kicked out or seeing the facility close weigh on her. But mostly, she said she is overwhelmed with gratitude for the consistency in care that Keyes has offered. 

“My baby started here when she was nine months, not walking, not talking. Now she won’t stop walking – or stop talking,” Jazmine Donerson joked. “She grew up here.”

Consistency is critical for young children, explained Biz Harris of the Mississippi Early Learning Alliance, and it’s often the first thing to go when care becomes too expensive. 

“To have to move around and have an uncertain child care situation, it causes anxiety and stress in the parents, and it causes anxiety and stress in the baby – even if you don’t see it, it’s there,” Harris said.

And it’s not just families or child care workers who are affected. Nationwide, the loss of pandemic funding for child care will cost states $10.6 billion in lost economic activity, according to a study conducted by the Century Foundation, an independent think tank in New York. 

Child care is more expensive in the U.S. than any other country explained Elliot Haspel, a nationally recognized child and family policy expert based in Colorado. Haspel said that is because there is no coordinated public child care system like there is for K-12 education.

“We treat child care in this country much more like a private, individual commodity like a gym or a restaurant than we do more of a public or social good like public schools or fire departments or roads or parks,” said Haspel. “So, there’s very little public money in the system, and the economics don’t work without it.”

Keyes has never thought of what she does as babysitting, or anything other than a public good. She views herself as an educator of her youngest charges. Research backs up that perception. The first few years of life are the most critical years for learning and development. 

“At the end of the day, we are an early learning institution,” Keyes said.

Getting creative

As of now, it’s not clear how long Keyes’ child care center will remain open or what approach state leaders will take to ensure funding. 

Advocates have called on the state in recent months to use unspent welfare money to fund the voucher program. But using Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) funds outside of what was allocated for the Child Care Development Fund is prohibited, according to federal guidance. 

The Child Care Development Fund is the federal block grant that primarily funds the voucher program. States can transfer up to 30% of TANF funds to CCDF, and Mississippi transfers the maximum amount. 

Other states, such as Ohio and Texas, have set up direct payment programs to use additional funds carried over from previous years for child care. Jones with Mississippi Department of Human Services said the agency is committed to following official federal guidance regarding conversion of TANF funds to the child care voucher program. 

The agency also has opened a Request for Proposals, Jones said, to use TANF funds for “work support” – programs that help those in low-income jobs remain employed. Proposals include child care, Jones said. The subgrantees will be announced in 2026. 

Meanwhile, Gov. Tate Reeves asked lawmakers to provide $1 million this session to expand child care access for workers across the state. The program, according to his annual Executive Budget Recommendation, would be a public-private “tri-share model” in which employers, employees and the state government share the cost of child care. 

“Any revenue to child care is welcome and wonderful, so that’s that,” said Burnett of the Mississippi Low-Income Child Care Initiative. “But it is a small investment, and the other effort Mississippi has put forward that involved businesses participating was an employer tax credit they could get for investing in child care – and there has been practically no take-up on that.”

Without the promise of help from the state, Keyes plans to start delivering orders for DoorDash in the coming months to earn extra income. Keyes said she doesn’t have the heart to lay anyone off before the holidays, but she doesn’t know how much longer she can hold out. 

Keyes said she hopes that officials will get as creative as she’s had to get to stay open – and that they’ll follow through. She keeps praying because she believes care and education are the foundation to life. 

“It’s not about money for me – I don’t pay myself a salary,” said Keyes. “I do it because I want to see the children grow. When you have a great beginning, you have a great ending. In child care, we’re the beginning for everything. We pour into them what they need.”

Full food stamp benefits are still delayed one week after they were set to resume, according to the Mississippi Department of Human Services. The slowdown is the result of a software system issue, agency spokesperson Mark Jones told Mississippi Today. 

“Our software systems are old,” he said.

Mississippians who receive their Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefits between the 14th and the 21st of each month will receive up to 65% of their November benefits on their regularly scheduled date. The remaining November benefits for all recipients will be issued separately “as soon as possible,” the agency’s website said Thursday.

Beneficiaries in Mississippi receive $183 on average in food assistance per month, according to the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities. Partial benefits for the average beneficiary would amount to a loss of at least $65 in aid as Thanksgiving approaches. 

The nation’s largest food assistance program was paused beginning in November after the federal government said it would not use emergency funds to pay for the program, even though benefits have continued to flow to states in past shutdowns. 

Confusion ensued after more than a dozen states sued the Trump administration for its refusal to issue benefits. Mississippi said it would begin issuing partial benefits Nov. 10 in accordance with guidance from the United States Department of Agriculture, the federal agency that administers the program.

The state Department of Human Services announced that food assistance benefits were set to resume as normal on Nov. 13 after the longest federal government shutdown in U.S. history came to an end. 

About 1 in 8 Mississippians — over 350,000 people — receive food assistance through SNAP. More than 67% of participants are in households with children, and about 41% are in households with older adults or adults with a disability. In four Mississippi counties, over a third of residents rely on the program to purchase food, according to a report from WLBT.

The state Department of Human Services awarded a contract to Deloitte Consulting LLP to improve the agency’s software system in May. Most MDHS eligibility systems were created over 35 years ago, according to the press release announcing the award. 

Jones said the software upgrades are set to be complete in 2027.

Michelle Hodges-Feek hasn’t opened the box in her living room that arrived weeks ago from Mississippi. 

She can’t bring herself to because inside are the cremated remains of her 40-year-old son, Daniel Hollan, who died Sept. 10 at a privately-run prison in the Mississippi Delta, hundreds of miles away. 

She didn’t get an opportunity to say goodbye. Months later, she has an official cause of death and a certificate, but she’s still left with questions: What happened? How or why did this happen? Who is responsible?

“Nobody cares that my son died except me, and all I got is a big box that I don’t have the guts to open yet,” Hodges-Feek, who lives outside of Kansas City, Kansas, said as she began to cry. 

One day she hopes to take a trip to Colorado, where their family previously lived, to have a memorial service for Hollan and spread his ashes. 

He is among at least five people who were from out of state or from outside the county who died in the last 1 1/2 years inside the Tallahatchie County Correctional Facility, a private prison operated by CoreCivic. Deaths there have left family members, like Hodges-Feek, uncertain about whom to go to for answers and whom to hold accountable. 

Hollan was convicted in Montana in 2017 and spent time in state and privately run prisons there before arriving in Mississippi in January among the first group of Montana prisoners at Tallahatchie Correctional. 

His mother sought answers and details from Mississippi and Montana prison officials, a county coroner and CoreCivic. 

It took a month for her to learn he died from an accidental drug overdose. Hollan had struggled with addiction before, but his mother believes he may have used drugs in prison to self-medicate. He had lived with chronic arthritis that affected his skin and joints and a more recent heart condition. 

To date, CoreCivic has contracted with four states, three counties, one U.S. territory and the U.S. Marshals Service to house people at the 2,672-bed Tallahatchie prison.

CoreCivic also signed a deal in February with Immigration and Customs Enforcement to expand immigration detention, including the use of 252 beds at the Tallahatchie facility. 

The facility houses detainees awaiting trial and the convicted, some serving up to life. CoreCivic confirmed that pretrial detainees are housed separately from prisoners from state or federal agencies, but did not provide numbers of pretrial detainees and state prisoners. 

In the industry of incarceration, CoreCivic is one of the two largest private prison companies in the United States, operating more than 70 facilities. The Tennessee-based company reported quarterly earnings this month of $580.4 million, up from 18.1% from the prior year quarter. Tallahatchie Correctional is located in the small town of Tutwiler with a population of 1,635 – a fraction of the prison’s capacity. 

‘Is nobody responsible for these guys’ care?’

Hollan had never been to Mississippi, and it was not his decision to come. Montana prison officials, grappling with its prison population and needing to make upgrades to its main state facility, made the decision for him and 239 other prisoners when it signed a contract with CoreCivic. The state retained custody of him from hundreds of miles away.

Three years earlier, the Montana Board of Pardons and Parole ruled Hollan was not eligible for early release and needed to take a class. As he learned about his out-of-state transfer in 2025, he heard that the Arizona CoreCivic facility where Montana had already sent people offered the class he hoped to take to become eligible for parole, his mother said. 

By June of this year, Hollan was up for administrative parole review, but the board informed him by letter he was ineligible for early release again because he didn’t fulfill the class requirement. The board holds hearings and reviews for incarcerated people housed in Montana for state-owned facilities, as well as for those held out of state in private facilities like Tallahatchie Correctional. 

Hodges-Feek and her daughter, Rebecca McQuarrie, kept in touch with Hollan through several 5-minute weekly calls provided to prisoners. He shared that he had been trying to access medical care from the prison’s in-house staff for at least four months before his death.

“Is it Montana people who are watching them? Is it Montana people who are the guards?  It’s CoreCivic’s people who are the guards,” Hodges-Feek said.  “How can they pass the buck, is that legal? Is nobody responsible for these guys’ care?” 

In response, a CoreCivic spokesperson Brian Todd said the company is deeply saddened by the death of any person in its care, and that the company is serious about following standards and policies that its government partners expect. 

When someone dies, CoreCivic notifies the deceased’s home state and local law enforcement to conduct an investigation, Todd said. Then someone from Tallahatchie Correctional contacts the emergency contact listed in the prisoner or detainee’s file. 

“Every death is investigated thoroughly and transparently, but it’s important to note that the circumstances of each incident will dictate how the investigation is handled,” he said in a Thursday statement. “Our focus remains on doing everything possible to prevent these events from happening in the first place through training, oversight and continuous improvement in our standard of care.” 

Montana prisons spokesperson Alexandria Klapmeier wrote in an email that the Tutwiler Police Department investigated Hollan’s death and the Tallahatchie County Coroner’s Office was responsible for the death investigation.

Anthony Hawkins, the Tallahatchie coroner, confirmed he handles death investigations from the private prison, including that of Hollan and others sent from out of state or other Mississippi counties. After initially agreeing to speak, he has been unavailable for comment. 

Tutwiler Police Chief Carlos Thompson was unavailable for comment about the status of the prison-death investigations. 

Hodges-Feek was told Hollan was found in his cell, blue in the face in the morning, multiple hours after he was last seen or heard from the previous day. She wonders if his cellmate or others had seen anything. 

She also submitted a public records request with the Montana Department of Corrections seeking copies of Hollan’s medical requests and related grievances. As of November, she is still waiting to receive those records. 

The Montana prison official who informed Hodges-Feek and his sister about Hollan’s death said it didn’t appear to be suicide, the women said. McQuarrie wanted confirmation because the youngest of her three brothers died from suicide in 2017 and she didn’t think her mother could handle losing another child that way. 

The state where a suspicious death occurs in a correctional facility outside Montana handles the investigation following that state’s legal processes and laws, Klapmeier said. Once the coroner finishes a death investigation, that official shares the information with the contract prison department and medical and investigation staff, she said.

Mississippi’s State Medical Examiner’s Office conducts the autopsies, as required by law for people who die in public or privately run prisons, jails or correctional facilities. The examination is used to help complete a death certificate, which is issued by the state Department of Health. 

That office completed Hollan’s autopsy and those of the Vermont prisoners and Hinds County detainees, said Bailey Martin, spokesperson for the Department of Public Safety, which oversees the medical examiner’s office.

Mitzi Magleby is an advocate who has worked with incarcerated people and their families in Mississippi’s state- and privately run prisons. Whenever anyone dies in prison, she said the priority should be informing families and guiding them through processes. 

“To me it’s a communication breakdown,” she said. “There’s not enough communication with these families. They’re in the dark.”

For out-of-state families like Hodges-Feek, Magleby said having to seek information from two state prison agencies and a private company is even more red tape to navigate. 

Klapmeier, the Montana prison spokesperson, said the state pays to bring the body of the deceased to their family’s choice of funeral home in the state or transport their cremation remains to the family. 

This was not made clear to Hodges-Feek. She said as her family considered the cost of bringing Hollan’s body home, her daughter and son-in-law considered taking out a loan to pay for it, but Hodges-Feek said she didn’t want them to take on that financial burden. Instead, she approved Hollan’s cremation in Mississippi.

Cremation felt like the only option to get her son home because it wasn’t clear where he would have been buried – Montana or Mississippi – if she pursued that option. 

‘The safest and most dignified option’

Two men from Vermont, which also contracts with CoreCivic, also died in the Tallahatchie facility.

At the end of February 2024, 71-year-old Alfred Brochu, who was serving life for murder, was found unresponsive in his cell and taken to a hospital where he died. He had been at Tallahatchie Correctional since 2011, Vermont media reported. 

Two weeks later in March, 43-year-old Sean Osterhout died. He came to Mississippi in 2019 and was serving up to a 30-year sentence for two charges of lewd and lascivious conduct with a child.

The Vermont Department of Corrections handled the death investigations and found that the deaths were not suspicious, said Haley Sommer, a department spokesperson for the Vermont Department of Corrections.

When a death of one of its people occurs at Tallahatchie Correctional, Vermont prison staff travel to the facility to look at circumstances that lead to the death and to consult with the medical team in Vermont about medical records, she said. From there, Vermont’s Defender General’s office has discretion of whether to conduct an investigation into a prison death.

Vermont has faced a challenge with space in its correctional facilities, and the state’s preference has been to send people out of state to reduce overcrowding at home, Sommer said.  

The state has contracted with CoreCivic since 2018, and Vermont has found that contracts with private companies like CoreCivic to be useful because the state is able to maintain custody, which includes making decisions about inmates’ medical care. 

“It is the safest and most dignified option,” Sommer said about sending inmates out of state to Mississippi and other prison facilities. 

Months before Hollan’s death, Hinds County detainees Ulysses Nelson III and Christian Dyre, both 24, died within days of each other in the Tallahatchie facility. 

Dyre had been at Tallahatchie Correctional since October 2023 and was facing a murder charge, and Nelson had been at the prison since January awaiting trial for aggravated assault, domestic violence and rape, Hinds County Sheriff Tyree Jones said. 

Jones said their deaths were believed to be drug-related because there were reports of contraband in the zone where they both were housed. He said at the time that Tutwiler police would investigate and the State Medical Examiner’s Office would conduct an autopsy and toxicology reports. 

Todd, the CoreCivic spokesman, said there is a zero-tolerance policy for anyone to introduce contraband into its facilities. The company seeks to prevent contraband from coming through such measures as searches, patrols, monitoring systems and mail checks, he said. 

Tallahatchie Correctional medical staff immediately respond to emergency calls and are equipped to provide lifesaving care such as the administration of naloxone, which is an opioid-overdose reversing drug, he said. 

Mississippi Today requested records about the men’s cause of death, but the information was not available by publication. 

In an October interview, Jones would not comment about the sheriff’s office’s working relationship with operators of the Tallahatchie facility, citing ongoing litigation around the Hinds County Detention Center. 

In 2023, the county signed a two-year contract with CoreCivic to send detainees to the private prison due to limited staff and conditions of a housing pod that has been closed down.

‘Nobody cares about these boys once they get locked up’

In the weeks after his death, Hodges-Feeks joined a Facebook group with other family members with loved ones in CoreCivic facilities in Mississippi and Arizona, including those who died there. She now knows she is not alone. 

With questions still unanswered about her son’s death, Hodges-Feek and Hollan’s sister try to remember him as a person who put others first and had a good work ethic. When tornado sirens went off, Hollan was often the first to react and tell his family to get to a safe place. As a child, he saved his own money to buy a video game console. 

But Hollan also had a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This, his mother said, paired with the death of his younger brother led him to turn to drugs and alcohol, and actions stemming from their use led to prison time, his mother said. 

After completing an earlier sentence, Hollan tried to get a fresh start in Montana. Instead, he began to use drugs again, which Hodges-Feek said contributed to another prison charge. Hollan was convicted in 2017 of prostitution and received a 99-year sentence with 75 years suspended, according to court records. 

Hodges-Feek kept in contact with her son over the years as he was moved to state-owned and private prisons in Montana. 

In Mississippi, Hollan used his free weekly calls to tell his mother and sister what he was experiencing: How January rain caused flooding in the prison and the summer passed without air conditioning.

Hodges-Feek has seen how her older son, who also served time in prison, was able to turn his life around. She wonders what could have happened if Hollan had received a similar chance. 

“(Daniel) never got the opportunity,” she said. “Nobody cares about those boys once they get locked up.”

Amazon announced on Thursday that it plans to build a $3-billion data center in Warren County near the new Port of Vicksburg.

This is the fourth large data center planned for Mississippi, with a combined $29 billion in investments. There are already two Amazon data centers being built in Madison County. 

With the current artificial-intelligence boom, companies are building data centers across the country. Many are being built in the Deep South because of its abundant land and water resources, less environmental regulations and relatively cheap energy for the power-hungry centers.

The center planned for Warren County will create at least 200 full-time jobs according to a statement from Amazon and Gov. Tate Reeves’ office. Reeves said it would be the largest private investment in Warren County’s history. Construction is expected to start in 2026.

The new data center will fall under the 2024 Mississippi Major Economic Impact Authority legislation for Amazon’s Madison data centers. According to a representative from the Mississippi Development Authority, the state’s economic development agency, the Vicksburg center will not require additional state funds. In the original agreement, the state spent $44 million in taxpayer dollars, gave a loan of $215 million, and provided additional tax breaks.

Amazon also announced it would commit $150,000 to a new Amazon Warren County Community Program that will provide grants to local organizations.

While data centers promise jobs and tax revenue, critics have pointed out that they create very few jobs relative to the size of the investment and footprint. They have raised concerns over environmental impact, energy consumption and prices for consumers and lack of public transparency about their development or operations. 

READ MORE: Brandon residents want answers, guarantees about data center

While companies invest hundreds of billions of dollars in ramping up their AI infrastructure, Amazon has shown some signs it is lagging behind its competitors. However, in early November Amazon signed a $38 billion agreement to give OpenAI access to some of its computing power.

The Senate Judiciary Committee on Thursday advanced President Donald Trump’s nominations for federal judgeships and U.S. attorney positions for Mississippi, after the nominations had been held up by a North Carolina senator over a dispute over federal recognition of an indigenous group as a tribe.

Republican Sen. Thom Tillis had recently said he was blocking a committee vote on the four Mississippi nominations over negotiations with Sen. Roger Wicker of Mississippi on the Lumbee people being officially recognized as a Native American tribe. Wicker is chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee, which has sway over legislation in which proponents wanted the Lumbee recognized.

The nominations now advance to the full Senate.

Wicker in a statement on Thursday said he’s pleased the nominations moved forward and that he looks forward to voting for their confirmations on the Senate floor. He has declined comment on the issue with Tillis and the holdup of the nominations.

“Justices Chamberlin and Maxwell and Messrs. Kruger and Leary are highly qualified individuals,” Wicker said. “They will uphold the law, defend the Constitution and serve Mississippi well.”

The Lumbee is a group of indigenous people in North Carolina that has been seeking federal recognition as a tribe for over a century. But other federally recognized tribes have opposed this effort.

Language granting federal recognition of the tribe had been added to the House version of the Pentagon’s annual spending bill, but was not included in the Senate’s version, which Wicker oversees.

Earlier this month, the Senate Committee on Indian Affairs held a hearing on the Lumbee Fairness Act, legislation now being pushed by Tillis and other North Carolina lawmakers. President Trump has also endorsed recognition of the Lumbee as a tribe.

In a recent press release Tillis said: “This issue has come before Congress many times over the decades, but never with this level of unity and support. These days, it’s rare to see Republicans and Democrats come together on anything. But when it comes to Lumbee recognition, the support is overwhelming and it’s bipartisan … Here in the Senate, nearly two dozen members from both parties have co-sponsored the Lumbee Fairness Act…”