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ERIC PREVEN’S NOTEBOOK - If you tuned in expecting governance, what you got instead was an extended thank-a-thon, with no intermission. Over 194 thank-yous were logged (yes, someone counted), not including near-synonyms like “uplifted,” “humbled,” and “deeply privileged.”
The proceedings featured surprise guest appearances by county commissioners, heartfelt proclamations for Pride, and what can only be described as a four-part mic-check. Each councilmember brought forward a “treasured partner,” a cultural milestone, or a legacy initiative, resulting in a dais that resembled a carousel of mutual admiration.
From Re-envisioning resilience: Reflections on the LA Wildfires at BJAC Gallery.
By hour three, it was less a city council meeting and more a civic award show with occasional hints of policy.
Then, mid-scroll storm, the mood snapped cold. Councilmember Eunisses Hernandez took the mic—not to laud, but to warn...
“There are nine ICE raids happening within a two-mile radius,” she said.
“Ninth and Towne. 15th and Santa Fe. They’re targeting garment workers.”
Silence followed. Not respectful silence. Rattled silence. The kind that reveals the room knows what’s true—and has chosen not to act.
When public comment opened, the spell of civic self-congratulation had been shattered.
Speaker after speaker echoed the alarm:
“You’re building out surveillance infrastructure,” said one advocate.
“CCTV, license plate readers, biometric dragnets—all piped straight to ICE.”
Another speaker asked plainly:
“How do you think they know where to go? Who do you think is helping them?”
It became clear that while the Council toasted its ‘equity champions’ with pastel-accented proclamations, communities outside City Hall were being hunted—digitally, and literally.
Smart Speaker: Point of order!
Mr. Preven high-fives Sergeants Duarte and Graciano and heads to the podium. The Council is stunned.
Bob Blumenfield, President: Mr. Preven, we’ll give you one minute to avoid a federal shakedown. Please begin.
Smart Speaker: Thank you, Council President. I will be brief, just a quick Special number 1 motion, I’d like to read it into the record. I’ll have that idiot Groat circulate the findings later.
Therefore, while we deeply appreciate Councilmember Adrin Nazarian’s robust support from the LAPPL and UFLAC, we humbly request that, moving forward, he offer free self-defense classes to the public, including members of the Judiciary—perhaps held right here on the forecourt of City Hall.
Module One: How to identify an approaching tactical unit from a friendly field deputy.
Module Two: Disarming pepper spray with just a proclamation and a DREAM Act pin.
Module Three: Baton avoidance for staffers: duck, roll, file an OIG complaint.
And for the more advanced students—those who persist in exercising their constitutional rights—we’d welcome a federally compliant shield-and-retreat technique co-sponsored by the Marines, the Ethics Commission, and AECOM.
Because if this Council can’t protect us from rent hikes, utility gouging, and bad contracts, the least you can do is publish a pamphlet titled:
“Deflect, Defund, Defend: A City Haller’s Guide to Surviving Public Comment.”
Print it on glossy stock. Paid for by BizFed.
INT. FEDERAL COURTROOM – DAY
We pick up mid-hearing. Judge Birotte has just listened to an audio recording of Eric Preven’s recent Daily News screed about the four billion dollar MacLaren settlement. A hush lingers.
JUDGE BIROTTE (dryly):
We’ve paid a price for keeping people in custody who just wanted to go home. And here we go again!
A clerk slips a note. Judge Birotte reads, barely hiding the grin.
JUDGE BIROTTE:
Well. Mr. Preven is in attendance. Two minutes of public comment. Against my better judgment… in the interest of transparency, I’ll allow it. Make it snappy, Mr. Preven.
Smart Speaker rises with practiced irritation. He steps slightly off center—clear line to the bench, side-eye toward Parole Officer Vault.
Smart Speaker: Thank you, Your Honor. And thank you for the rare flicker of self-awareness.
I am very sorry to hear that Ms. Carbajal was a MacLaren victim. The $4 billion payout - I realize she won’t see much of that. May I ask how much?
JUDGE BIROTTE: No!
Smart Speaker: Fine. But because this county system failed people like Ms. Carbajal. And now that she can access those top secret resources—just enough to maybe buy a sputtering RV—the government is trying to stop her at the edge of the off-ramp and saying, “Sorry, you tested dirty. Back in the blender.”
The woman told us she has a job interview lined up for tomorrow. A plan. And five thousand dollars she’s legally entitled to. That’s not a relapse narrative—that’s a forward motion story you’re trying to cancel in preproduction.
And with respect, Ms. Mathias, who is clearly doing God’s work with a stapler and hope, Officer Vault’s the parole version of a Navy SEAL, and the U.S. Attorney was clearly not listening. That’s four salaries, one life, and a whole lot of cost to prevent progress.
Let Carbajal go home or motorhome. Let her try. And if it doesn’t work, we’ll all be back here with twice the paperwork and half the dignity.
He pauses. The courtroom is still. Judge Birotte glances at his watch, nodding slowly.
JUDGE BIROTTE:
Motion to hold the 90-day residential in abeyance… is granted.
Bring documentation. Show results. No excuses.
He glances at Ms. Vault.
VAULT (smirks):
You got it, Your Honor.
And for the record? (turns to Preven). Now I know why they call you the sixth Supervisor!
Mr. Preven is already gone.
FADE OUT.
Theme music plays: upright bass, a typewriter ding, maybe a gavel dropped in 4/4.
Who Got Taken?
On Friday night, CNN aired Good Night, and Good Luck, their salute to Edward R. Murrow—the high priest of facts in a time of hysteria. Then came the afterparty: a panel of journalism luminaries—Anderson Cooper moderating, Walter Isaacson reflecting, Connie Chung remembering Cronkite, Bret Stephens earnestly furrowing, Kara Swisher smirking, and a CNN-Univision tag team for balance.
They talked about the difference between reporting and opinion. About facts. About what journalism should be doing in moments of democratic strain.
Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, people were being quietly detained and shipped off in vans.
Let’s focus:
Who got taken?
Were there charges?
Were there warrants?
Are lawyers being allowed in?
Is that 9-year-old boy from Torrance really on a plane to Honduras?
We know this much at press time: David Huerta, head of SEIU California, was arrested at a protest. Marco Garcia, picked up at Ambiance Apparel in the Fashion District. Martir Isaac Garcia Lara, 9 years old, reportedly en route to deportation.
DHS says 118 arrests. Advocates say closer to 200. But names? Details? Almost nothing.
Even members of Congress—Maxine Waters, Jimmy Gomez, and Norma Torres—were blocked from seeing detainees at the Metropolitan Detention Center.
Certainly, the footage this weekend was dramatic. Trash fires, rooftop standoffs, Waymo cars torched. Reporters and assignment deskers, doing their jobs, showed us what was happening. That’s real. But the balance is off when visuals become the story, while the lack of information about the detainees goes unexamined.
The media did not manufacture the unrest. But too much airtime was given to spectacle, not enough to the silence from Homeland Security or ICE.
You can show us the guy waving a flag on top of a burning car. But you also have to ask who’s sitting in the back of the van, and why.
Because, as Murrow said:
“This instrument can teach; it can illuminate… but only if we insist on using it that way. Otherwise, it’s just wires and lights in a box.”
This weekend, we got the lights. We got the wires.
But where were the facts?
Dashiell Preven's art at Barnsdall!
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE (AGAIN)
LINDSEY P. HORVATH MAKES A SPLASH FOR SEA LIONS AND CYCLISTS — CHILDREN OPTIONAL
MALIBU, CA — In a powerful tribute to her dual constituencies—lycra-wrapped cyclists with a cause and coastal wildlife enthusiasts with second homes—Supervisor Lindsey P. Horvath is proud to re-release footage of herself diving in slow motion into a pool, as a symbolic act of governance.
While originally filmed as part of a self-promotional moment during her ascent to county power, the splash has found new meaning. This year, Horvath’s office has redirected the annual Malibu SPONSOR Triathlon parking fee waiver (estimated at over $180,000) away from Children’s Hospital Los Angeles and toward a smaller, cuddlier nonprofit that rehabilitates sea lions poisoned by domoic acid. [Not confirmed at press time.]
Horvath has always believed in taking the plunge, gesturing to the recycled footage. Sometimes into public service. Sometimes into clean water. And now, for our coastal partners and “for the mammals.”
Horvath, who led this year’s county Pride flag raising and routinely blends “trail mix policy” with high-aesthetic Instagram deliverables, emphasized that the new triathlon beneficiary aligns better with the Third District’s evolving values:
One smart speaker commented, “This is about intersectionality—between saltwater and sweat, between marine life and mobile donors.”
Children’s Hospital, once a favored recipient adores Supervisor Horvath’s evolving priorities. Hopefully, they will also fundraise around mammals.
Past 3rd District Supervisors contacted for comment did not respond to email but could have easily replied: Zev Yaroslavsky: "No comment.” Sheila Kuehl: "I agree with Zev."
The Malibu SPONSOR Triathlon will proceed in September as planned. Participants are encouraged to donate generously, pose responsibly, and avoid asking follow-up questions about who actually benefits.
(Eric Preven is a Studio City-based TV writer-producer, award-winning journalist, and longtime community activist who won two landmark open government cases in California.)
