By ISABELLA VOLMERT

LANSING, Mich. (AP) — Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer on Tuesday signed into law a new 24% tax on marijuana sales between producers and dispensaries, creating revenue to partially fund her long-promised effort to improve the state’s roads.

Whitmer made road repairs her priority this year. The Legislature’s fiscal agencies estimate the wholesale tax will generate $420 million in new revenue to go towards the annual $1.8 billion road funding plan. But analysts predict the additional tax will inevitably lead to a drop in sales.

“When I took office, I made a promise to fix the damn roads so Michiganders could get where they’re going faster and safer,” she said in a video. Whitmer — long considered a potential Democratic presidential candidate, although she hinted she may not be interested in the job — signed the budget in a closed-door meeting.

The wholesale tax will be levied on the sale of marijuana from growers and processors to retailers.

Adam Hoffer, director of excise tax policy at the Tax Foundation, said the new tax will almost certainly lead to an increase in retail prices and a decrease in sales. The Michigan Senate Fiscal Agency predicted a 14.4% sales decline. Shoppers will still also have to pay a 10% retail excise tax on marijuana, which has been in place since it was legalized in 2018, plus a 6% sales tax.

States that allow the sale of recreational marijuana tax cannabis products at different rates, so it’s difficult to make state-to-state comparisons, Hoffer said. But the wholesale tax will drive the amount of tax on Michigan products from the lower end of the spectrum to the higher. Minnesota, Maryland and Maine also hiked taxes on marijuana products this year.

“This massive tax increase is really going to hurt the legal market in Michigan,” Hoffer said, echoing concerns from critics who say it will encourage illicit marijuana sales.

Stuart Carter, founder of the Detroit Cannabis Industry Association, said the tax will devastate smaller businesses in particular. He called it a “slap in the face” after the tax hike was ushered through the Legislature with little chance for public comment.

The new tax was key in the final negotiations on the road-funding plan. Michigan’s freezing and thawing cycle in the winter creates a continuous need for road repairs and the topic has been an issue for decades. Discussion on where to find the funds has been a source of disagreement; lawmakers usually balk at the idea of raising taxes.

The Citizens Research Council of Michigan, a nonpartisan research organization, ranks Michigan 40th in the nation for road conditions and 28th when it comes to funding road improvements.

Whitmer’s first plan — a 45 cent gas tax increase — was rejected by lawmakers in 2019. She turned to a bonding program in 2020 and the state borrowed $3.5 billion to rebuild highways and bridges. The plan created a marathon of new construction projects, but local roads did not benefit and that borrowing is coming to an end this year.

Michigan’s budget for fiscal year 2026, agreed after months of contentious debate, totals $81 billion, according to the governor’s office. Democrats control the Senate and Republicans control the House. The many disagreements between the parties sent the state barreling towards a government shutdown, and lawmakers technically did not pass a budget by the Oct. 1 deadline. But they agreed to a continuing resolution, and the full budget was passed in the early hours of Friday.

About $1 billion of the package has been dedicated to funding local road and bridge improvement projects. In addition to the marijuana tax, it will also be funded by redirecting all taxes paid at the gas pump towards roads. Previously, gasoline sales tax largely went to a fund for schools.

Lance Binoniemi, vice president of government affairs for the Michigan Infrastructure and Transportation Association, said the marijuana tax is a “nontraditional method” of supporting roadwork funding, but lawmakers recognized the urgency of finalizing a plan.

“We think this is a big step in the right direction,” he said.

Associated Press writer David Lieb in Jefferson City, Missouri, contributed to this report.

The Associated Press’ women in the workforce and state government coverage receives financial support from Pivotal Ventures. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.

By STEVEN GRATTAN

BOGOTA, Colombia (AP) — As gold prices hover at record highs, a leading Catholic leader in Peru’s Amazon is urging countries that are destinations for the precious metal to help stem illegal mining that is poisoning rivers with mercury.

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Miguel Ángel Cadenas, an Augustinian from Spain who has lived in Peru’s Amazon for three decades, said illegal mining has surged since the COVID-19 pandemic, citing the Tigre, Nanay, Napo and Putumayo rivers as some areas where communities are at risk.

Tests have found mercury levels in some fish above World Health Organization limits, and hair samples from local residents analyzed by scientists and doctors also showed elevated concentrations.

“We are in a delicate situation,” Cadenas told The Associated Press. “Given that the Amazonian diet is rich in fish, we are talking about food insecurity.”

Mercury is widely used to separate gold during small-scale mining. It contaminates water, accumulates in fish, and builds up in people’s bodies, leading to neurological and developmental harm. Cadenas said the health risks are especially acute in the Amazon, where medical services are scarce.

Research in Peru’s Madre de Dios region found that 43% of women of childbearing age had mercury levels above WHO safety limits, while hair samples in villages along Peru’s Amazon riverways showed nearly 80% of residents exceeded the threshold.

“The majority of people do not understand what is happening. There is barely any information,” Cadenas said. “The state should first provide good information to its own population and then sources of food that allow other alternatives — which do not exist.”

Call for gold traceability

Gold prices are soaring — analysts expect them to average around $3,675 per ounce by late 2025 with possible gains toward $4,000 by 2026, according to JPMorgan.

Analysts say weak traceability systems make it easier for illegally mined gold to slip into global markets. Reports from Switzerland and sustainability researchers focused on environmental, social and governance (ESG) standards say gold tainted with mercury in places like the Amazon is often laundered through refineries before entering jewelry, electronics or national reserves.

Cadenas, who served as a missionary and bishop before being appointed in 2021 to lead the Apostolic Vicariate of Iquitos, stressed that Peru cannot handle the problem alone.

“As long as the price of gold continues to rise, it is very difficult for a national government to manage this situation,” he said. He pointed to gold-buying nations including China, the United Arab Emirates, the United Kingdom and Switzerland.

“The first responsibility should be that those countries buying gold require traceability, so that it is not possible to pass illegal gold into legality so easily,” he said.

‘Extremely serious’

Cadenas also warned of growing violence, especially against local environmental defenders in the Amazon region.

Bishop Miguel Ángel Cadenas speaks while attending an Amazon Water Summit in Iquitos, Peru, Oct. 1, 2025. (AP Photo/Junior Raborg)

Across the Amazon, environmental defenders are frequently targeted — Colombia has led the world in killings for several years, while Peru also ranks among the most dangerous places to speak out against illegal mining and logging.

“There are people who are being threatened with death, and this seems extremely serious to me,” he said, citing reports that illegal miners in remote areas are tied to armed groups, including Colombian FARC dissidents.

Peru has at times tried to rein in illegal mining and mercury use. In 2019 it launched Operation Mercury, a military-police crackdown that sharply reduced deforestation in the La Pampa mining zone, though much of the activity later shifted elsewhere. Authorities also announced record seizures of contraband mercury, including a four-ton shipment at Callao port this year.

Still, Indigenous groups say enforcement is inconsistent, and regional governments across the Amazon warn that cross-border smuggling of mercury continues to fuel illegal mining.

International action

The city of Iquitos hosted the Amazon Water Summit last week, which the vicariate helped organize. Roughly 400 people from Peru, Ecuador, Colombia and Brazil took part in 14 workshops on topics including water and extractivism, climate change and education.

Participants attend an Amazon Water Summit in Iquitos, Peru, Oct. 1, 2025. (AP Photo/Junior Raborg)

Cadenas noted that Loreto, Peru’s largest Amazonian department, has the country’s lowest access to drinking water — with about 60% of the population lacking potable water and sanitation. Peru’s Constitutional Court ruled two years ago that this amounted to an “unconstitutional state of affairs,” but he said the judgment has yet to be fulfilled.

Cadenas, who said he knows Pope Leo XIV — who spent years in Peru as a missionary and later bishop — fears the situation will worsen unless international action curbs demand for illicit gold.

“Every day that passes there are more people dedicated to illegal mining. While there isn’t serious international pressure, it will be very difficult,” he warned.

Still, he directed a personal plea to those driving the destruction.

“Earning money is fine, but it cannot be at the cost of injustice and the lives of the poorest,” he said.

The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.

DULUTH — The Duluth Public Library alone holds over two dozen books about the Edmund Fitzgerald. Yet, John U. Bacon’s new book, “The Gales of November,” is subtitled “The Untold Story of the Edmund Fitzgerald.”

What could possibly still be left untold?

“Almost all the (existing) books are focused on what happened: the whodunit, mystery aspect of it,” Bacon said. While his book delves into that question, it also includes extensive information on the lives and experiences of the men who died when the ship foundered in a Lake Superior storm Nov. 10, 1975.

“We get six crew members who (were previously) part of this crew and knew the people on it and knew the ship. That’s almost unheard of,” Bacon said. Also, “we got the families, who otherwise don’t talk but were very generous with me.”

Bacon also wanted to put the Fitzgerald, which was launched in 1958, in its larger historical context.

“This area was the Silicon Valley of its time,” Bacon said. “It’s called the Rust Belt now, but Detroit was San Francisco in the ’50s and ’60s, and Minneapolis, right up there. Chicago, Green Bay, Milwaukee, Cleveland, Buffalo. These are enormous cities, very important.”

The result is a book that broadens the story of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Readers come to appreciate the life and times of the best-known bulk carrier ever to ply the Great Lakes.

“The Gales of November: The Untold Story of the Edmund Fitzgerald” is a new book by John U. Bacon.Jay Gabler / Duluth Media Group

Bacon doesn’t take for granted, for example, that readers will know what a normal day might have looked like for crew members on a ship like the Fitzgerald. “The Gales of November” breaks the crew’s responsibilities down, job by job.

“I’ve been gratified, even from the family members, to hear they actually learned more about what their dads and uncles and cousins and so on did from this book,” Bacon said. “It’s very hard work. It’s pretty noble work. It’s essential work.”

Poignantly, Bacon even explores the question of how those crew members might have spent their last hours on shore as the Fitzgerald sat at Burlington Northern’s Allouez docks in Superior, Wisconsin. Some stopped at the President Bar, cashing checks and listening to favorite songs like “Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl).”

Some Edmund Fitzgerald crew members stopped by the President Bar in Superior, Wisconsin, the night before the ship’s final run.Jay Gabler / 2022 file / Duluth Media Group

(The 1972 Looking Glass hit about a harbor town girl who can’t compete with the sea for a sailor’s love was, Bacon learned, very popular among Great Lakes freighter crews of the era.)

“The heartbreaking part for me is how happy they were,” Bacon said. “The guys on the (Arthur M.) Anderson, just half an hour up the road in Two Harbors, they’ve got two months left. … (The Fitzgerald crew members) know that, because of McSorley’s wife, because of repairs that needed to be done, they’ve got two days left. This is their last run (of the season). This is it.”

Ernest McSorley, captain of the Edmund Fitzgerald, was planning to retire after the ship’s Detroit run. His wife was in ill health, and he was looking forward to having more time to care for her. As it happened, Nellie McSorley would outlive her husband by 18 years.

The Edmund Fitzgerald at a Burlington Northern ore dock near Allouez Bay in Superior. This photo is undated, but an inscription on the back describes it as the “last known photo of (Edmund) Fitzgerald at Allouez docks.”Contributed / Verne B. Hildebrandt / Lake Superior Maritime Collection at the University of Wisconsin-Superior Special Collections and Archives

The Fitzgerald and the Anderson, which left Two Harbors shortly after the Fitzgerald left Superior, both headed to the Soo Locks, and both initially planned to take their typical route across Lake Superior’s South Shore.

As the weather worsened, though, McSorley and, on the Anderson, Capt. Bernie Cooper, decided to follow a longer but more sheltered northerly route.

“You just gave that storm 14 hours to get there first,” said Bacon, referring to one of the systems that collided to cause the calamitous conditions the Fitzgerald encountered at the lake’s eastern tip. “You also gave the ship several more hours to fill with water. Otherwise, you’d be at Whitefish Bay. You wouldn’t be in great shape, but you’d be there and you’d be safe.”

McSorley also decided to slow down and wait for the Anderson near the end, when the Fitzgerald had lost its radar capability and was relying on the Anderson to help guide its course. At other points in the run, though, the ship sped ahead, potentially subjecting its hull to greater stress.

One of Bacon’s most revealing sources was Rick Barthuli, who was working in the Anderson’s engine room that night. According to Barthuli, the Anderson’s chief engineer quietly ignored Cooper’s orders to drive that laker harder than the engineer deemed safe.

“If you do the smart thing you’ll live to see another day,” Barthuli told Bacon. “So will the captain — even though he won’t know why, and he’ll probably think it’s because of something he did.”

Bacon said Barthuli “might be the last person” alive who was on the Arthur Anderson on Nov. 10, 1975. Bacon spent a full year trying to reach Barthuli.

“He does not have email. He’s in Florida half the year,” Bacon said. “Very, very independent soul, to say the least. Got a hold of him. At first, he’s reluctant, and then we become very good friends.”

In addition to telling the human story of the Fitzgerald, Bacon strove to present the story of the ship’s demise in all its complexity. The reality, he said, is that a combination of factors contributed to the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

“You’ve got all these safety nets that get pulled back one by one by one, and if you had half of them, you’d probably be OK, but you got rid of all of them, pretty much,” Bacon said.

That wasn’t just a matter of decisions made on the Fitzgerald’s final run, but all the decisions leading up to an arguably overloaded freighter proceeding into the gales of November.

“It’s me walking blindfolded around the Grand Canyon,” Bacon said by way of analogy. “If I had a blindfold on, I don’t know I was two feet from going over. If I go over, I’m dead, but if I walk back, I think that was nothing. Blindfold off. And that’s what they kept doing.”

After a half-century of media attention, often unwanted, many of the crew members’ relatives are wary of talking publicly about their loved ones. Bacon was pleased to earn the trust of several families, though, and his book offers the fullest account yet of the lives those men lived.

“It’s good to get that out — their full character, who they really were, what their lives were like,” Bacon said. He also wanted to communicate “the incredible sacrifices of these families.” A career in shipping meant, routinely, long hauls away from home.

A member of the Mark W. Barker crew, left, waves to the crowd in Canal Park as the laker travels through the Duluth Entry in December 2023.Dan Williamson / File / Duluth Media Group

“You don’t have a dad for nine months out of the year. How is that not going to hurt?” Bacon asked, rhetorically. “The sacrifices made before you get to the shipwreck were also, I think, a big part of the story.”

While researching his book, Bacon spoke with people across the Northland.

“Once I got in touch with one person, they told me about their friends, from Silver Bay to Two Harbors to Duluth to Ashland,” he said. With many of his sources being far from young, Bacon felt a sense of urgency.

“The accident is 50 years old,” he noted. “If you don’t get one final version down, this might be the last real chance to do it.”

Brooke Blakey, the first director of St. Paul’s Office of Neighborhood Safety, is stepping down this month.

She said Tuesday that it’s time to pass the baton because the work “is not a sprint, but a marathon.”

And she’s looking for better work-life balance. In supporting gunshot victims and their families, Blakey’s work brought her to hospitals and crime scenes in the middle of the night.

After Mayor Melvin Carter appointed Blakey, she took on the job in the newly-formed Office of Neighborhood Safety in February 2022. It’s centered on what Carter calls “community-first safety,” which he’s said means “preventing crime before it happens — by investing in strong neighborhoods.”

Blakey and her office have been leading Project PEACE, “a methodical, individualized gun violence intervention that connects gun violence involved individuals with evidence-based community led programming, and wraparound supports,” according to Neighborhood Safety’s website.

“Director Blakey is a key architect of the Community-First framework that drove double-digit decreases in every category of violent crime in our city,” Carter said in a Tuesday statement, thanking her for making St. Paul “a stronger and safer community.”

There have been nine homicides in St. Paul this year, compared to 20 in the city at this time last year. Forty-nine people were injured in nonfatal shootings as of Sept. 17, according to preliminary information; there were 77 during the same time last year.

The office started with Blakey and the Neighborhood Safety Community Council, and now has a staff of nearly 20. Its budget is about $2 million.

The Office of Neighborhood Safety includes the Familiar Faces program, which has outreach workers connecting with people who are “familiar faces” at shelters, emergency rooms, jails and other places.

Blakey said her last day will be Oct. 17. The 49-year-old, who has two children and one grandchild, said she hasn’t decided what she’ll pursue next.

She’s looking to “support community while making time to focus and balance my personal life. My commitment to St. Paul and Rondo remains as strong as it could ever be.”

She grew up in St. Paul’s Rondo neighborhood. Her father, Art Blakey, was Minnesota State Fair police chief for 37 years and a Ramsey County sheriff’s deputy who rose to the rank of commander. Her mother, Carolyn Carroll-Blakey, worked for St. Paul Mayor Larry Cohen and Model Cities, and retired from human resources at M Health Fairview University of Minnesota Medical Center.

She previously was an investigator at the Ramsey County Public Defender’s Office and then a Metro Transit police officer where she led the design and implementation of the Homeless Action Team.

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Blakey and another Metro Transit officer filed a lawsuit against the Metropolitan Council, which oversees the Metro Transit police department, in February. They allege in the suit that then-Metro Transit Police Chief Eddie Frizell violated Minnesota anti-discrimination laws. Frizell demoted Blakey from captain to sergeant and then to officer.

An internal affairs investigation and review by an external investigator concluded that Blakey and the officer violated ethics policy on accepting gifts in August 2021 when their children were given backpacks with laptops as part of a community organization event in Minneapolis.

But the lawsuit, which is ongoing, says the event sponsors gave the backpacks directly to the children and they “were treated like every other child participating in the community event.”